Tumultuous, the word, has popped up much too often in the last days of December. Looking back, it seems no one could escape the year’s demand for change. The Wood Snake, after all, had to shed its old skin for a new one to grow.
We, in the LIFE Team, have seen our share of life’s tumults. We, too, lived through floods and earth-shakers, and there was no room for brainrot. We, too, are raring for real change, one that checks corruption at the door as we enter another year.
After a year of covering life’s events, and sometimes being part of the stories we write, here’s a look at some of the lessons we learned and how we fuel the endless hope we carry for every new year.
Writing for the best
What could have been greater than joining the DAILY TRIBUNE in early 2025?
In all modesty, I have to say that DAILY TRIBUNE is the best newspaper in the country today — and not just because I am now part of this daily. I can say with conviction that the paper covers everything every reader needs, except porn, of course. Sigh.
I was on a six-month break from writing before joining the paper. It was a period I immensely enjoyed because I didn’t have to run after deadlines. I had time for myself. I watched Netflix endlessly while eating Nips.
The truth is, I don’t exactly enjoy writing. I am probably the only journalist who says that. When I made that confession in the now-defunct Teysie ng Tahanan show of Tessie Tomas in 1995, all jaws fell in the studio. We were a panel of broadcasters who also did print. While everyone went orgasmic over the pleasure of writing, there I was — expressing a different view.
To me, writing is the loneliest job on earth. You face a blank computer screen and wait for the muse to arrive. With today’s traffic, the muse has all the excuses in the world to be late.
Compare that with television work and even doing an online show. You work with a team. If you are feeling nasty, you can walk out and the executive producer will cajole you into returning to the set. In the world of print, you miss a deadline and your editor will kill you.
But I still cannot abandon writing. I would always need to express myself in printed words and I am happy that DAILY TRIBUNE provides me with a venue for that. This 2026, I plan to return to ABS-CBN. But no way am I leaving DAILY TRIBUNE. Television allows me to have a comfortable life. But it is print that feeds my soul.
— Butch Francisco
Between triumph and farewell
After more than three decades of covering showbiz, I have learned that every year tells its own story — but 2025 was unlike any other. It was a year of extremes, of soaring pride and quiet heartbreak, of standing ovations and solemn goodbyes. It reminded me why this industry, and this country, will always move me deeply. There were moments that made me beam with pride as a Filipino. Watching names like Emma Tiglao, Sofronio Vasquez, Jessica Sanchez and Veejay Floresca shine on international stages felt like collective victory. These wins were not just personal milestones for them; they were affirmations of Filipino talent, resilience and excellence. Once again, the world was reminded that Filipinos are not just participants — we are forces to be reckoned with, truly world-class in every sense. But 2025 was also heavy with loss. One by one, we bid farewell to giants who shaped our industry and our collective memory — Nora Aunor, Gloria Romero, Delia Razon, Hajji Alejandro, Ricky Davao, Pilita Corrales. Their passing felt deeply personal, as if chapters of Philippine cinema and music quietly closed before our eyes. Covering their legacies was no longer just a job; it was an act of gratitude, remembrance and mourning for an era that raised generations of artists and audiences alike. Beyond the industry, the year also tested us as a nation. Natural calamities struck our country with unforgiving force, yet time and again, Filipinos rose through bayanihan. In evacuation centers, donation drives and quiet acts of kindness, I witnessed the same spirit that fuels our artists — the instinct to help, to share and to endure together. It was a sobering reminder that even in the hardest moments, compassion remains our strongest currency. As I look toward 2026, my hope is simple yet profound. I hope for healing — for an industry that continues to honor its legends while nurturing new voices. I hope for more stories worth celebrating, more victories that unite us, and fewer goodbyes that leave us aching. And for our country, I hope for safety, resilience and a future where bayanihan is not only a response to tragedy, but a way of life. If 2025 taught me anything, it is this: joy and grief can coexist, and both shape who we are. As I step into 2026, I carry forward the lessons, the memories and an enduring belief in the strength of the Filipino spirit — onstage, onscreen and beyond.
— Jefferson Fernando
Making noise a collective voice
Bashing strangely took a positive outlook when public indignation was no longer heard in the busy school hub district of Manila, Mendiola, or the globally known protesters’ venue, EDSA, or the rallying turf, Liwasang Bonifacio.
With the recent flood control imbroglio involving decently clothed but corrupt public officials in cahoots with district engineers got its much-awaited public notoriety, protests were made unilaterally a prevailing occurrence, felt even in the most surprising venues.
Protests seemingly permeated everywhere — concert venues, music halls, concert arenas and even coliseums and stadiums.
Boisterous howls of protest are no longer heard in busy streets. They are now heard during concerts, awards nights, even in sports activities.
When the People Power was staged in EDSA, Filipinos were collectively chanting “Tama na, sobra na, palitan na (Enough, too much, it’s time for change).”
Now, protesters are singing a not-so-different tune as in the first Filipino Music Awards, the crowd boisterously chanted, “Mga kurakot, ikulong na ‘yan (the corrupt, jail them),” during one of the breaks in the show.
The Ateneo Cheering Team, at half time during the UAAP basketball game between University of the Philippines and Ateneo, removed their jackets to reveal the phrase “Kurakot Ikulong” all spelled out amidst the cheering crowd, who chanted “Kurakot Ikulong.”
Another protest-like chant happened during Cup of Joe’s “Stardust” concert at the Araneta Coliseum where the crowd loudly said: “Ikulong na ‘yan, mga kurakot (Jail the corrupt).”
When the One Trillion Protest March was staged, many celebrities joined and one of them was It’s Showtime host Vice Ganda whose message of indignation was replete with expletives.
On social media, a plethora of celebrities, exasperated over the seemingly endless corruption of heartless and conscience-less thieves who steal by the millions and by the billions, articulated their collective dismay.
The crowds’ shrieks and shouts, in the prevailing scenario today, is not a display of admiration but rather a showcase of indignation, that when rightfully heard and acted upon will bring about positive change.
— Alex Brosas
Looking back, moving forward
Let me remember 2025 through the people with whom I connected well. In a year where politics polarized the people, floods were of end-of-days proportions, flood control projects did not offer any protection, and earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, the terrible traffic, domestic issues and woes continued our struggles, I thank God for giving me a set of earth angels who have become dear companions and friends.
To my migs and kapwa A’TIN director Julius Alfonso, entertainment writers and friends Alex Brosas and Julie Bonifacio, I am thankful for the time spent with you, stories and secrets shared, blind items and gossips dissected and guessed correctly and, yes, political discussions that never brought friction but made us understand better who are the culprits. And how we laughed silly as we imagined what methods must be done to eradicate them! Yet above all, why we do not give up on the Philippines, because this is home. This is where our hearts are.
To my favorite millennial bloggers/vloggers Naz Tabares, RM Marcelo, Bernard Santos, Ja Miguel, Ericson Layos and Mark Anthony Magadia, conversing with you, reading and watching your outputs, I am impressed with your candor and entertained by your thoughts and actions on life, love and lust. With you, youth is never wasted on the young and I know there is indeed hope because I not only see your passion, as reflected in your work.
Two dear friends, Floyd Tena and Andrew Gan. You always made me feel love. Though we do not see each other on a regular, but the moment we do, it is as if there were distance and space. The conversations always honest. The affection and feels, sincere. The hugs, tighter than tight, and the when will I see you again, always a moment and a surprise.
The year becomes all the more special because of DAILY TRIBUNE. It is my broadsheet home. With Ms. Dinah and the tandem of Pauline and PJ, Ms. Kathy, Jefferson Fernando, my loves in the DTT Show Dani, Christian and Eric, and, of course, to our publishers Sir Willie and Ms. Bettina, it is delightful and wonderful to be in a publication that trusts my talent as a writer, that respects the opinions and views that I express, that always makes me feel welcome, loved and part of the TRIBUNE family.
The new year is just a few days away and I dare say, bring it on! My hope is for more public service and less politicking. More acts of kindness and sowing seeds of love and understanding. And that all we do should always be for the collective good.
— Alwin Ignacio
Soft drink, hard year
One October afternoon, I sat waiting outside the doctor’s office. The doctor was not yet in — a new pulmonologist I had handpicked from an app. “Mayo, Stephanie?” the secretary peeked out and called for me. “Mag-timbang lang po tayo, ma’am.” I went in, removed my shoes, and stepped onto the digital scale without looking down. She mumbled as she jotted down my weight: “150 pounds.”
What? I asked. Since 2020, during the Covid-19 lockdown period, I had been 140 lbs. “Are you sure?” I asked again. She laughed and said yes. The last time I checked — earlier in 2025 — I was still 140 lbs. Ten pounds in the span of two months. I panicked.
The year 2025, I became fatter. And I knew why. I had started consuming Coca-Cola like water. I could no longer remember when the habit began. Did it creep in during long days of stupor? Or did it take root during dining events where indulgence felt deserved?
It is 27 December as I write this — two months after that doctor’s visit. I glance at the cold bottle of Coke mismo beside my laptop, then reach for it. The plastic is slick with cold, sweating, dotted with tiny beads of moisture. I twist the cap, and the soft sizzle that escapes makes my heart skip. The smell hits first — sweet, sharp. Caramel-colored bubbles surge upward as I take a long gulp, the sharp carbonation burning my throat. I feel awake now. Rewarded. Held by sugar, dopamine lighting up my brain. Never mind the crash later.
There are four days left until 2026 — the year I will stop drinking Coke. I tell myself this as I set the bottle down, still half-full. It will not be easy, but I will do it. They say it takes two straight weeks to build a new habit. I want to believe them. Right? Right?
— Stephanie Mayo
A year of connection and words
Same as most, 2025 was one of those hard-to-describe years, with its fair share of high points, and challenges. On some days, I felt like I knew exactly what I was working towards, while on others, like I was just winging it. For the most part, I just kept moving forward, and took on whatever came my way with as much aplomb as I could muster. Today, I find myself standing at the end of a year that was built on the words and stories that I put down, and connections with the people whom I’ve crossed paths with.
Sometime last year, I went back to editorial writing, which I had put off for a few years to do other things. Sure, it’s like riding a bike, albeit a rusty one — so it took a bit of time to get those gears turning smoothly. Each story, oftentimes, also came with a unique experience — meeting people, watching a show, or trying a new restaurant for the first time — which kept the work very interesting. I rediscovered the joy of seeing each assignment through a different lens, and telling it from that perspective. Of course, there was a learning curve to all this, of course, as language is a living breathing thing, and the writing had to follow suit. So did I. With each article — which ran the gamut of theater reviews, food stories, profiles and fashion — I was happy for the chance to put my words and stories out there again.
I’d say 2025, for me, was also about people — with whom conversations turned into connections built over common friends and shared interests. In this case, it was a shared love for theater, food, or fashion, or somewhere in between. Working on Trumpets’ Joseph The Dreamer around mid-year was a chance to meet the new cast, and reconnect with the older ones. At the end of it, we left the show as friends. There was also the group of foodie friends with whom I tried out new places to eat. Or when I signed up for a one-day choir to sing with strangers. Just because. So it became a recurring theme for most of my year — where lunches, coffee dates, and the like became opportunities to build friendships, old and new. To all of whom, I am grateful.
In June, I went to see the Manila production of Come From Away. On the stage was a giant sign that said “You are here.” I asked Michael Williams, who directed the show, if I could go up and take a photo under it. Looking at the picture now, I am reminded of this fact — I am here. In this moment that I have walked through the past year to get to. At the cusp of a new year, where the unwritten awaits. With a chance to learn from each person I encounter. A chance to show kindness every chance I get. A chance to share more stories. A chance to be fully present, for everything. Because I am here, and that is a gift.
— Elizabeth S. Timbol