#Ralph Cyrelle

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“ A CALL TO ACTION: UPHOLDING THE SOLID WASTE MANAGEMENT ACT FOR A CLEANER AND MORE SUSTAINABLE FUTURE "

(TESTIMONIO)

I stand before you today to talk about a very important issue that affects us all - the Republic Act No. 9003 Solid Waste Management Act of 2000. As we all know, the proper management of solid waste is critical to the health and well-being of our communities. Improper disposal of waste can lead to a host of problems, including environmental degradation, public health risks, and economic costs. There was enacted to address these issues and provide a comprehensive framework for the management of solid waste in our country.

The law mandates the establishment of a solid waste management system that is environmentally sound, economically viable, and socially acceptable. Under this law, local government units are required to implement waste management programs that promote the reduction, reuse, and recycling of waste materials. They are also tasked with the proper collection, transport, and disposal of solid waste in their respective areas.

The law also promotes the establishment of waste management facilities, such as sanitary landfills and material recovery facilities, to ensure the proper treatment and final disposal of waste. Moreover, the Republic Act No. 9003 Ecological Solid Waste Management Act of 2000 mandates the participation of the private sector in the management of solid waste. It encourages the establishment of public-private partnerships to promote innovation and efficiency in waste management practices. In conclusion, the Republic Act No. 9003 Ecological Solid Waste Management Act of 2000 is a crucial piece of legislation that aims to promote sustainable waste management practices in our country. As responsible citizens, we must support the enforcement and implementation of this law to ensure a cleaner, healthier, and more sustainable future for ourselves and generations to come.

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"The Importance of Family: Why We All Love Each Other"

True Narrative Essay

Family is important to every one of us and we all love our family. Wherever we go in this world and whatever we may achieve, our heart and soul will always be in our home because it is where our beautiful family is.

It was a good day, My family that loves each other, talks and spends a lot of time together inside the house. My life is full of blessed, struggles, love, and has a dream to achieve my dreams. Even though life is suffering, I'm still continues my studies. I am the only child of our family, I have do my responsibilities to do even though I am the only one.

One of the things I will never forget in my life is that my mother left to go abroad to find a job and help with my studies. My father's work is the driver of the company. My family separated just because they were fighting with each other, and they don't understand a thing that can separate them. It is not easy when your family is not by your side. But now that they have their own family, they still support me in everything. Even though there are many problems, the ones who support me are my grandmother and grandfather, who will help me continue my education and reach my dreams. I studied a lot and worked hard to help my family, showing my mother and father that their struggles could be exchanged through my achievements. There are more opportunities that have come into my life, and I am grateful, especially for my family.

Each of us has our own story to tell and it is up to us how we end it. Choices and desires were played, when I thought this is it or it is what it is. My life is learn and grow about everything. It is the challenges to solve the problems in my life. It is the happiest time in my life, living with no worries even though there are many problems. I will continue of my dreams and never lose hope. The people I loved are still there to lift me up and support me in the things that I want to do. They have been my inspiration in life, even though I have faced many problems in life. I will still fight for my dreams, work hard and I will be able to finish my studies and can have a stable work. I faced a lot of challenges in my life, this is just a test don't lose hope. Although I fail and fall for the first time, I was strong enough to create a new path, and proud of it that have passion in life. Always pray and continue where am I started, even there are many trials until I succeed in the end.

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"Unforgettable Memories: The Things I Will Never Forget in My Life"

Personal Narrative

One of the things I will never forget in my life when I was a child, we traveled in the crocodile park, where there are many animals and you can handle them because they are not aggressive. Our trip was fun because I was with my family and relatives.

One of the things I never forget I never forget is interacting with others. I joined an event where you can enhance my skills; it's Boy Scouts. This was one of the things that was fun when I was young because I used to participate and always active in this kind of event. My grandmother is supportive because she takes care of me because my mother went abroad to support my family.

It was difficult my mother was not by my side. My childhood was happy because there were no problems, but there was a lot going in my life when I became a teenager. I though a lot and still continued because I know in myself that I could do it. A lot is happening in my life, especially in my studies, because I have achieved a lot and I am still continuing it because it is my passion. I have been hardworking in my grades, and I want to achieve my dream so that I can help my family.

I have been loving my family because they are there for me, and I have learned from my life that I should apply myself and do things that will improve myself. I spent my whole childhood wishing I were a teenager, and now I'm spending my teenage years wishing I were a child.

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Respect is what we owe, love what we give.

Respect is a fundamental aspect of human interaction and is essential for building healthy relationships. It is the foundation upon which trust and understanding are built, and without it, relationships can quickly become strained and even broken. In this essay, we will explore the importance of respect to one another and how it can positively impact our lives.

It is also important because it promotes empathy and understanding. I realized that when we respect others, we acknowledge that they have their own unique experiences and perspectives that are just as valid as our own. This helps us to build bridges across cultural, racial, and social divides, and helps us to appreciate and celebrate our differences rather than fear or mistrust them.

Showing respect to one another also promotes a sense of dignity and self-worth. When we treat others with respect, we affirm their inherent value as human beings, and this can have a profound impact on their self-esteem and confidence. This, in turn, can lead to greater success and achievement in all areas of their lives. Respect is a vital aspect of human interaction that should be practiced by everyone. It promotes trust, empathy, understanding, and dignity, all of which are essential for building healthy relationships. We should strive to treat others with the same level of respect that we would want for ourselves, and always remember that everyone deserves to be respected and valued. By doing so, we can create a world where people feel safe, valued, and connected to one another.

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The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. Importance of pursuing one's dreams, having courage, finding fulfillment in one's work, and preparing for the future. They can inspire to work hard, overcome challenges, and achieve success in their career paths.

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MABINI: A JOURNEY OF PROGRESS AND UNITY UNDER THE LEADERSHIP OF PUBLIC SERVANTS

( Literary Journalism )

Mabini, is a second class municipality in the province of Davao De Oro. In June 12, 1954, The Republic Act No. 1007 An Act Changing The name of the Municipality of Doña Alicia, Province of Davao De Oro, is changed to Mabini. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the Philippines in Congress assembled. The first people to occupy the area now known as Mabini were the Mansakas. Mabiniwas originally part of Davao Province. It became part of Davao Del Norte when Davao Province was split in 1967. Mabini became part of Compostela Valley, and has consist of 11 Barangays.

In 2019, Reynaldo Dayanghirang elected as Mayor of Municipality of Mabini he is a public servant. He has done something in his term that to help the people and have notice issues that have to solve the problem. There are programs conducted to focus attention on it to develop and have a good community. There are many crimes that happen in different barangays and to take action on it. His term ends in 2022, currently the new mayor was elected in Mabini year 2022 during the election is Father Emerson " Em-em " Luego. The Mayor is responsible for supervising all programs, projects, services, and activities of the municipal government, enforcing all laws and ordinances related to governance. One of his advocacy is to develop and change the municipality that have different problems that people are facing today.

Have peace and unity to prevent crime in the community. Many people have given the opportunity to work in private and public places to buy food and necessities for their family. He has helped many people and problems have been worked to solve it. It has been proven that the Municipality of Mabini is beautiful in a different places, there are many places that have become tourist spot. Tourism Mabini has been carried so that more people can travel to the place and have to influenced to show the beauty of Mabini.

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MY JOURNEY IN LIFE: DON'T LOSE HOPE UNTIL LIFE IS SUCCESSFUL

An Autobiography

I believe in myself. I am braver and have a talent that only I know and capable of more than imagine. My name is Ralph Cyrelle Batalon, I was born on June 23, 2005 at Hijo, Maco, Compostela Valley. I lived before at Hijo, Maco, currently I lived in San Antonio, Mabini, Davao De Oro. I am the only child of our family, I have do my responsibilities to do even though I am the only one. My mother's name was Rhoan Flaminia she is an OFW and my Father's name was Rafael Batalon he is a driver of company. When I was a baby my family separated just because of fighting to each other and they don't understand in a thing that can separate them. It is not easy that your family they are not by your side and two of them they have their work. But now they have their own family, they still support me in everything and they help for my studies. Even though there are many problems that ones who supports me are my grandmother and grandfather who will help me continue my education and reach my dreams.

I began taking classes when I was five years old at Hijo Elementary School for kindergarten and continued my education grade four. I transferred at San Antonio Elementary School to continue it until I graduated from grade six. My elementary years was full of memories that I will never forget and it is happy that have a friends.

My high school life started, when I was twelve years old at Pindasan National High School. I meet my new classmates in different school, some of them become my friends, I worked hard in my studies and got awards that I achieve to achieve my dreams. I participated in many events to boost my confidence especially with many people. I learned a lot throughout my Junior year that you will really get to know yourself and see the potential in everything that will be good for learning.

Currently, I'm a Grade 12 HUMSS Senior School Students at Mabini National High School to continue my studies and graduate this year. As a student, it is the most important thing in our life is family and friends. They have been my inspiration in life, even though I have faced many problems in my life.

I will still fight for my dream, work hard, I will be able to graduate. Study hard and don't waste and opportunity that will come in my life. I faced a lot of challenges in my life, this is just a test, don't lose hope, always pray and continue where am I started, even there are many trials until I succeed in the end.

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WORK HARD TO ACHIEVE YOUR DREAMS

 Personal Essay

Things that happened in the beginning of our lives during our childhood, have a great impact on our existence in this world. One of the most important in my life is that have a good life, have a good health of my family, and also have a stable life that have and to pursue my dreams. Everything in this life has an explanation and has a reason. It would be too boring if we get everything easily, the problems help us to understand many things.

One of the things I will never forget is that my mother left to go abroad to a find a job and help for my studies and also my family. I studied a lot and work hard to help my family to show my mother that her struggle can exchanged through my achievements. There are more opportunity that have come in my life and things that can help especially my family.

From now, I'm grade 12 student and graduating this year. I will work hard to finish my studies. My life is to learn and grow about everything. It is the challenges to solve the problems in my life. It is the happiest time in my life, living with no worries even though there are many problems. I will continue of my dreams and never lose hope. The people I loved are still there to lift me up and support me in the things that I want to do.

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" LIFE IS LIKE A DANCE "

Life is like a dance, sometimes we know the steps and sometimes we make them up. Sometimes we follow the music and sometimes we make up our own tune. Sometimes we get our toes stepped on and sometimes we step on others toes. Sometimes we slow dance and sometimes we fast dance. There are even times when we sit out for a dance or two. The good thing about life, and dancing, is we can always step back in when we are ready, we can dance any dance we choose and it doesn’t matter if we know the steps or not, we can make them up as we go.

One of the experiences I had was joining a dance contest. Yes, I was shy, about interacting with others because I was afraid to speak to my fellow dancers, about bringing out my talent, especially in dancing. It was the first time I was involved, and I didn't know how to dance before. One of the things that strengthened my heart was my family, because they were there to support me. One of the things I will never forget was told to me. Don't be shy about dancing; bring out your true talent, and show your talent. I know that I have a hidden talent, so I try to give them inspiration by dancing. So dancing is important in our lives; it gives us self-confidence and help us learn to listen to our emotions and understand our feelings.

I have experienced that even if you make a mistake in a step in dance, it can still be changed, and it's okay because in life, even if you make a mistake, you can still do things to change and can learn a new things that give an inspiration in life. For now, I have become better at dancing, and I have learned the things that I should know because it is my passion. I realized that even though there are many problems and challenges that come into our lives, we will continue until we reach our dreams in life, especially what is your talent in life.

Dance has moral lessons, it teaches you not to give up. One thing I learned that dance is life. When you fail up a mistake, you need to encourage and get up and try again. Dance has taught me lot in life, learning to listen your emotions, and understand of feelings. It is a reflection of something within us that we can only do with this world.

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Disclaimer: This blog will serve as a casket that will contain the authors’ thoughts, ideas, knowledge, their personal experiences and the likes. Note that the creation of this blog is for academic purposes only in our creative non-fiction class. This blog will be handled by the listed name below.

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LODGE: A LYRIC ESSAY BY: EMILIA PHILLIPS

When the Sleepwalkers at dawn finally stumble into their rooms, or slump over the steering wheels of their hubcapless Impalas, the seagulls land and become a landscape over a landscape, as snow does: a contour line, a living topography of the Budget Inn on the corner of N. Lombardy and Brook in Richmond. When the flock lifts, it lifts at once, proportional to its placement across the steep roof, the cars, and open lot, so it seems something essential, even soul-like, rises—the way in movies a ghost flickers over a body at death: superimposed blue, see-through and shining: confused, maybe even smiling, until it looks around and sees itself, or who it was, there, on the ground.

I dreamed I wandered lost in a city in only a lace nightgown, a blanket over my shoulders. I’d escaped a high-rise hotel after an elevator crashed into the basement, a column of fire rising and lashing through the steel doors on the top floor, the stairs blocked by avalanche. I don’t remember how I got out, and therefore wasn’t sure I had. (Was I a ghost? a projection?) I came to on a sidewalk in a deserted part of town (the buildings boarded up, the garbage in heaps on the curb uncollected) without knowing where I was or where I was going. But then I found my car double-parked, running, the key in the ignition.

Frank Zappa wanted to buy up billboards along the Eisenhower Interstate Highway System and plaster them with two words: DOUBT EVERYTHING

Today, two suns: one in the rearview, one in the side mirror. The meter money rattles in the door to the bass drum on Feist’s “The Bad in Each Other.” As I turn a corner, my shadow laps me.

I drive from Richmond to Raleigh, Raleigh to Fredericksburg to Gettysburg, on two-lane highways for two days. I keep my notebook open on my lap to write down the names of motels I pass, partly because they’ve devolved from Technicolor postcard destinations with mod geometric signs, to roadside slumps of peeling paint and mediocre marquee promises, housing stereotypes and imagined meth-dens—and I admit, I love ruin, and therefore, seeing them, a quarter plunks into the vending machine of my heart and down drops that generic American Nostalgia.

ROYAL INN

* Waterbeds *

CRESCENT MOTEL

Clean Room  *  HBO

360

M

O

T

E

L

CARDINAL MOTOR COURT

Travelers Welcome

Micro Fridge

JOHNSON’S LODGE

Vacancy / Single Double / Color TV

—and partly because they seem like my late anxieties become totem: unrest, excess, (anonymity).

Driving from Gettysburg to the Baltimore Amtrak, I listened to a Hopkins radio segment on the link between sleep cycles and depression. A neurologist advised listeners emotional health could be improved by turning off the television and computer at least two hours before bed, as electronic screens emit a blue light whose rapid frequency fools the body’s circadian into thinking it’s a time for wakefulness, a bright re-beginning.

One summer, at age ten or eleven, I couldn’t sleep and so watched the full run of Nick-at-Nite, Lucy at nine to Mr. Wizard at five, sucking on Mayfield banana popsicles and chipping away at Rita’s Italian ices with a tongue depressor, crawling beneath the uncurtained back windows from the den to the kitchen so no one, no intruder surely there, could see me. My mother, severely depressed, slept all night with a hair dryer on to drown out noise; she held it like a drowsy cowboy on watch with his gun. I was terrified, and rightly so, of fire, and so I stayed awake, for when I closed my eyes I saw her shadow moving down the hall, eyes aflame, smoke sibyling from her mouth.

The insomniac speaker of Larkin’s “Aubade” is terrorized by this thought:

The sure extinction that we travel to

And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,   

Not to be anywhere,

And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.

For three years I’ve had bouts of nighttime terror: about my ten-year-old half brother’s death and my diagnosis of stage IV melanoma a year later. With cancer, it helps knowing where the cells are; when one doesn’t know, Not to be here, one feels one can’t control it, contain it.

With my brother’s death, my great transgression—which I grieve but cannot help—has been to imagine his body underneath the soil, in his last Halloween costume, a Superman uniform, the premortem atrophy turned postmortem decomposition. I wish he were ash. Not to be here, / Not to be anywhere, so that he could be free again to dwell in thought.

When dark times loom, we cliché. Night is coming. Whenever we have hope, we cliché. I see the light at the end of the tunnel. Both used as metaphors for the approach of death.

Once a black bag was wheeled out of the Budget Inn. Police tape cracked like a whip in the wind. Another time, another day at the red light, I look through an open door, second from the end; inside, a shirtless man with Manson-esque beard and hair, danced in front of the television rabbit-eared to the news.

(some recent favorite church marquees)

My mother tells this story:

The father of my first best friend, the preacher at the Grace Reformed Baptist Church, asked me, age four, if I’d died that day, where would I go, heaven or hell?

I answer again and again in the retelling: My mom doesn’t let me go places like that by myself

Miscellaneous roadside signs, line breaks original.

All

Girl Staff

FLYING CIRCUS

AIRPORT

AMERICAN EX-PRISONERS

OF WAR HIGHWAY

On an unsalted stretch, bested by ice, I submit to $51/night and color television at the Boston Inn in Westminster, Maryland, the only place open. The incandescent light reviving a moth’s orbit that had stilled in the darkness preceeding my artless entrance on the chain gang of shadows, anxious and shaking. My pack slumped on the chair. The odor fecal, of cigarettes. My mind wanders: Whose knees were burned on the geometric carpet? A hole melted into the bedspread’s vanitas of flowers. The dead bolt latches but the doorframe’s busted, gold chain thin as a necklace. My tire tread caked in snow.

On the lobby RCA, a football game in whiteout conditions in the snowy reception of antennas where we lose the players in a huddle.

Entering this room, I enter a room inside myself with four corners and a human form, crouched in a shadow the bathroom light falling on me and falling on me again in the mirror. I want to hear the form speak to me, my own voice echoing off the tile before I leave with a refund, but as I recall absence can only be heard by dogs.

Weeks apart, I drive past two abandoned churches. First, a one-room wooden with peeling white and copper-green paint, broken glass windows, on Mt. Olive Lane in Southern Virginia. Alongside the No Trespassing signs, a little one:

FUTURE HOME OF

The Wedding Chapel

The other’s outside Biglerville, Pennsylvania. I barely got a look at it, except its yellowed marquee:

NEW

HOPE

CHURCH

Bachelard: “It is better to live in a state of impermanence than in one of finality.”

Which is why it is better to live in language rather than out of language.

But a word might change us, our landscapes, our movements, how we see our country, literally and figuratively. As if by traveling on the interstate, we might actually move between states of being.

On our way to see our first place in Richmond, we got lost on a street that was the same name as the street we were supposed to be on but didn’t connect to it. As we were driving, slowly to see the numbers, I caught sight of a woman on the concrete porch of one of the craftsmen. She had on several layers of skirts in autumn colors, a peasant shirt, her hair wrapped in shimmery purple. She looked like one of the vintage coin-op fortune tellers, a gypsy, although I have never seen a real gypsy, and worry now even calling her that I’m buying into America’s greatest product: cliché.

She beckoned to us, waving come in, come in, come in.

I fantasize about inventing a downloadable voice setting for GPS: VIRGIL™ who might provide us with more insightful directions. Ex. You will leave everywhere I guide you, we hope.

A partial concrete list of my abstract fears:

Vibrating bed. Shag carpet. Blacklight forensics. Synthetic waffle batter hissing on a press at the continental breakfast. Candy bars in the minifridge with the little bitty bottles of Jack. Bedbugs. Plastic mattress covers. Oily telephone receivers. Bedside table Bibles. Peed-in pools. Sticky and/or stained sheets. Fist-sized holes in the wall. Bullet-sized. Busted-in door frames. Snapped door chains. Snuff films. A friend’s coke cut on my bedside table. Thin walls. Thin doors. Peepholes. Hair in the drain. Unidentified fluids. Unknowns, ineffables. Unspeakables.

The preacher, I remember, had a waterbed.

Was it to be more like Noah?

I’ve always sympathized more with the unnamed thousands, millions who died in the flood, who didn’t believe Noah or in the coming apocalypse. I like to think they weren’t jaded with God but rather hopeful that they would keep what they had, that they wouldn’t get washed away. Their bodies are never mentioned, not during the flood. Not after the arc lands. I like to think that those people lived, a kind of Calvino-esque city, a world under the surface world—permanent against the changeable winds, the temporary currents.

So many of the old tourist motels outside of Gettysburg National Park are now low-income apartments. Often, driving home in the early evening, I’d spot residents in the parking lot igniting charcoal in a scrap-metal grill with lighter fluid.

A baby draped over a shoulder like a rifle.

A car hood up.

Or no one at all.

One still has a vending machine, the only light for a mile.

Before my mother married him, my stepfather—addicted to pain pills, recovering with pain pills after a car wreck caused by falling asleep at the wheel after a handful of pain pills—lived in the Extended Stay America. We would bring over beef tips and baked potatoes from Steak-Out and eat them out of to-go Styrofoam, Law and Order on the television.

Before that, we lived with my father near a cemetery, the thought of which, lingering just beyond the dark shape of the woods, would keep me up at night, as if ghosts could travel underground and rise into my room like radon. I had recurring nightmares of tombstones erupting through the floorboards.

A cemetery seemed then as much a transient space as a motel, or a mobile home like where my husband grew up.

These places seemed not to create life, but carry it.

I pass an empty field bordered by trees, a tattered billboard in its center: