ELIE- Activity 7.2

“Safe Add to Cart: How I Avoid E-Commerce Disasters”

     Can’t we just be FOR REAL—E-commerce is both a blessing and a trap. It’s the friend that helps you buy useful things while also whispering, “Buy this cat-shaped lamp you don’t need.” I love online shopping, but I’ve also learned (the hard way) that behind every cute item is the potential for chaos. After reading our Lesson 7 module, I realized there’s an actual science to avoiding the drama.

     To start, product risk is my mortal enemy. You ever buy something that looks amazing in photos but shows up looking like it came from a parallel universe? Yeah. That’s why I’ve become a review detective. I don’t just look at ratings—I investigate like I’m exposing a scandal. I zoom in on blurry customer-uploaded pictures like I’m in CSI: Shopee Edition.

     Then there’s privacy risk, which I take more seriously than my crush on midnight snacks. I don’t share my personal info online because I believe in digital boundaries. The only people who need to know my address are the delivery guy and my dog (and maybe my future self when I forget where I live). That’s why I still use Cash on Delivery like it’s my emotional support payment method. I’d rather hand over cash than my card number. Why? Because if I ever get scammed, at least I still have my dignity. And my money.

     Moving on to temporal risk—a.k.a. the drama of waiting. I once waited three weeks for a “fast delivery” item that arrived slower than my motivation on a Monday. So now I always check the shop’s shipping performance. If reviews say, “Fast delivery! Arrived in 2 days,” I’m sold. But if it says, “Still waiting after 2 weeks. Send help,” I run faster than my internet during a storm.

      And honestly, you know that feeling when you order something you’re really excited about—like a cute phone case with a built-in mirror (because, hello, vanity)—but the order status just stays stuck on “Pending” for three whole days? THREE. DAYS. It feels like being left hanging by an ex you never even dated. No update, no email, no movement. Delivery status? “Preparing to ship.” Since when?? Last week? I swear, I’ve developed trust issues with the phrase “Estimated Delivery: 3–5 days,” because it always sounds like a lie. Meanwhile, I’m at the window, by the gate, checking app notifications like I’m waiting for the love of my life to return from war. And don’t even get me started on those sellers who vanish after checkout. Like, hello? Where are you, Shopee seller123? I left my hopes and dreams with that order! And that broken tracking number? It’s giving ghosted. So yes, the biggest lesson? Online shopping will test your patience, your Wi-Fi, and your emotional stability. But hey, at least I got a ₱50 voucher. Worth it? Debatable.

     Financial risk is the next villain in this story. Nothing haunts you like a “no refund” policy after receiving an item that looks like it survived a typhoon. That’s why I don’t go for sketchy sellers, even if their price is a steal. If the grammar on their product description is suspicious and the return policy says “no returns, no complaints,” I treat it like a red flag on a dating app—exit immediately.

      I also take my time comparing listings. Sometimes the same item has three wildly different prices across platforms. I dig deep, compare deals, check shipping, and inspect whether freebies are included. E-commerce is war. You don’t enter the battlefield without doing recon.

     At the end of the day, what keeps me grounded is the awareness that e-commerce is convenient—but risky. Based on our module, I’ve learned that risks like faulty products, data misuse, delivery delays, and unclear policies are part of the territory. But the smarter you shop, the safer the experience becomes.

     So before I hit “Buy Now,” I pause. I investigate. I double-check. Because I’d rather spend five extra minutes verifying than spend five days regretting. And if I still get played by a mysterious shop that shipped me a questionable power bank from a warehouse in the middle of nowhere? I laugh, I cry, I leave a passive-aggressive review… and maybe still add something else to cart.

ELIE- Activity 7.1

“Bought It With My Eyes, Paid It With My Trust Issues”

     Online shopping is basically my toxic trait—but make it ✨efficient✨. I scroll through TikTok Shop, SHEIN, and Shopee more than I check my email. I don’t even plan to buy anything sometimes… but then a cute top shows up, or a multifunctional skincare organizer, or even a random shoe rack shaped like a cat. One minute I’m just “browsing,” the next minute I’ve added five items to cart like I’m some minimalist who’s collecting maximum chaos. But among all the randomness, there was one purchase that stood out: the time I bought a moon lamp as a Christmas gift for my best friends.

     I got it from Shopee, because it’s my go-to when I’m being a sentimental shopaholic on a budget. The moon lamp was aesthetic, affordable, and highly rated. I saw it and thought, “Yup, this is it. This is the personality gift.” It had excellent customer reviews and those magical product photos that scream add to cart now or cry later. So I did what had to be done—I checked out.

     When it came to payment, I didn’t even think twice. Cash on Delivery (COD) is my forever ride-or-die. I’ve never tried online payments, and honestly, I don’t trust them. Maybe one day I’ll evolve, but for now, the thought of putting my card info online gives me instant anxiety. I’m a very private person—I don’t even share much on social media. I use the internet strictly for school, memes, and the occasional deep dive into useless but fascinating rabbit holes. Sharing financial information? That’s a big no from me. COD just makes me feel safer and more in control of the situation, like I’m holding onto the last piece of sanity in a digital world full of potential hackers and identity theft drama.

    What really adds spice to my shopping habits, though, are those chaotic live selling events. I swear, whenever I see a seller yelling “Pa-mine po!” while waving discount vouchers and free shipping offers, I am spiritually weak. I cannot resist. I live for those moments when your total magically drops because you stacked vouchers like a pro. It’s a kind of thrill that only fellow budget warriors will understand. It’s like doing extreme couponing, but digital and more impulsive. The urgency, the countdowns, the flashing SALE signs—it’s like Hunger Games, but with skincare and crop tops.

     Now, when it comes to what actually affects my buying decisions, it’s a combination of several things all happening at once inside my very overwhelmed brain. First, if something’s catchy to the eye, I’m already 60% convinced. If it looks cute and aesthetic, my willpower just fades. Then, I scroll through customer reviews because I need validation from total strangers to feel okay about spending money. The item has to be useful, too—I’m not here to hoard things that’ll end up in a drawer of shame. Affordability matters a lot, of course. I want something nice without feeling like I have to skip meals. And if the seller has a high rating and fast shipping? Consider it done. I’m sold. Lastly, the fact that COD is an option just brings me peace of mind. It’s my version of insurance—no commitment until the product is literally in my hands.

     The moon lamp finally arrived, and I’m happy to report that it lived up to my expectations. It looked exactly like the pictures, worked perfectly, and my best friends absolutely loved it. For once, everything went smoothly. No delays, no product defects, no scammy surprises. It was one of those rare online shopping victories that remind you maybe e-commerce isn’t entirely out to get you. It helped ease my usual paranoia about product risk and late delivery nightmares, even just for a moment. Still, I always mentally prepare myself for the worst until the item is physically in my room.

     In conclusion, my experience with online shopping—especially this one—was a mix of joy, panic, and small triumphs. I love how convenient it is, and the way it opens doors to endless choices, but I’ll never let my guard down. I buy smart, pay with caution, and never give out more information than necessary. But the moment I see a live seller shouting “Buy now, free shipping!” while holding a cute lamp under ring light lighting—I’m there. Cart loaded. Trust issues aside, I’ll probably do it all again next weekend.

ELIE-Activity 6.2

“From Zero to Submit: A Multimedia Miracle (Fueled by Panic)”

    Let me be honest right off the bat—I didn’t wake up one day thinking, “Wow, I’m going to be part of a multimedia project today!” Nope. It was more like, “Group project na naman? Saan na naman ako kukuha ng app pang-edit?!” And to make it worse, half the time, we didn’t even start on time. Cramming? Oh, that wasn’t just part of the process—it was the process.

     Back in high school, we had multimedia projects for Creative Technology and Entrepreneurship. Whether it was filming, poster-making, or doing some ad for a fake business, it always started with an idea… and then weeks of doing nothing… until boom—suddenly it’s due tomorrow. Somehow, we always managed to pull it off, but not without chaos and sleep deprivation.

     For the filming and advertising parts, we used whatever was available: phones, laptops, and wireless microphones if someone was lucky enough to own one. We edited using CapCut, VN, and FilmoraGo on our phones, and sometimes Shotcut or Adobe Premiere Pro if the laptop was feeling generous and didn’t lag or crash. More than once, I lost my progress because I forgot to save. Pain.

     When it came to posters or menus for our pretend food stalls, we used ibisPaint to design from scratch. And when our minds were blank—because, again, we started too late—we rushed to Pinterest for inspiration. It’s basically our unofficial groupmate. Zero contribution sa group chat pero solid sa ideas.

     Most of the stuff we used came from us—personal gadgets or borrowed from someone in class who had better tools. We downloaded the apps ourselves, and most of them were free. If not, we relied on free trials and prayed they wouldn’t expire the night before the deadline. And yes, there were moments we had to uninstall TikTok just to make space for video editing apps. Sacrifices were made.

     Now let’s talk about using other people’s work. Guilty, but responsibly guilty. We got music, sound effects, and background clips from the internet, but we were careful. We used royalty-free music from YouTube’s audio library, Pixabay, and Bensound, and we only used images labeled as safe for educational or personal use. When required, we gave credits—usually in the last slide or video frame while silently hoping the teacher would notice.

     Looking back, I realize that what we were doing was actual multimedia work—combining text, video, audio, and graphics. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And through all the stress, confusion, and cramming at midnight while the rest of the group suddenly “fell asleep,” I learned something. I learned how to work with what I had, how to make things look decent under pressure, and how to stay calm when everything starts going wrong 3 hours before submission.

     And maybe, just maybe, I enjoyed it—right after the breakdowns. So no, our projects didn’t look like Hollywood-level films or Canva pro posters, but they were made with effort, panic, and a lot of last-minute genius.

      That’s how I survived multimedia in high school. And honestly? I’d do it again. But this time, maybe with a little less cramming. Maybe.

   

ELIE- Activity 6.1 – COLLABORATIVE PROJECT CRITIQUING

Whatch the video here: https://youtu.be/c0wjoAS-K7o?si=VUB8lhdGmxLgEWzh 

ELIE- Activity 5

     “Social Media: My Favorite Frenemy”

     Social media? If it were a person, it’d be that one friend who’s always there—sometimes helpful, sometimes chaotic, sometimes dragging you into drama you didn’t ask for. It lets me express whatever’s on my mind, no matter how deep, random, or straight-up dumb it is. It keeps me connected with people I barely see, which is great because effort in real life? Meh.

     It’s also my personal “tea” supplier, updating me on world events and celebrity scandals like they’re of equal importance. Plus, it’s my safe haven if I ever do something embarrassing—just disappear into memes and trolling until people forget. Entertainment? Unlimited. And when I feel like being productive, I can post my creative outputs, from video edits to covers, or just rant about my life, whether people care or not.

     Social media is like that unpredictable friend—sometimes fun, sometimes toxic, but always there, ready to either ruin my day or make it infinitely better.

ELIE- Activity 4.2 Reflection (question no. 1)

“Should You Trust Medical Websites for Diagnosing Yourself?“

     I’ll be honest—I’ve done it. One weird symptom pops up, and before I know it, I’m deep in a Google rabbit hole, convinced I have some rare, incurable disease. A mild headache? Must be a brain tumor. A sore throat? Clearly something life-threatening. And don’t even get me started on symptom checkers. They always make things worse. So, can medical websites actually help me diagnose my health problems? Short answer: No, not really. Long answer: They’re fine for general information, but they’re absolutely not a substitute for a real doctor.

     I’ve realized that medical websites are unreliable for a few reasons. First, they don’t know me. They only take in the symptoms I type, but they don’t consider my medical history, lifestyle, or the fact that I have a tendency to overthink every little thing. Second, they’re often wrong. Studies say symptom checkers are only accurate about 34% of the time, which means there’s a 66% chance I’ll get a completely wrong diagnosis. That’s worse than flipping a coin. Third, some of these websites have hidden agendas. I’ve noticed that a lot of them just happen to suggest treatments that involve buying specific medications or supplements. Coincidence? I doubt it. And lastly, symptoms overlap way too much. Fatigue could mean anything from stress to anemia to a vitamin deficiency—or maybe I just need to sleep like a normal person. A website can’t figure that out for me.

     Now, I get it. Going to the doctor takes time, and sometimes I just want quick answers. But I’ve learned the hard way that self-diagnosing online isn’t worth the stress. Doctors actually look at the bigger picture—they don’t just match symptoms to diseases, they run tests, ask questions, and make sure they’re considering everything before giving me a diagnosis. They also create a real treatment plan, instead of leaving me to randomly try over-the-counter meds or some “miracle cure” I found online. Plus, seeing a doctor helps me avoid unnecessary panic. I can’t count the number of times I thought I was seriously ill, only to be told I was just dehydrated.

     That said, medical websites aren’t completely useless. I do use them for general knowledge—like if I want to understand what iron deficiency actually does to my body. They also help me prepare for doctor visits, so I can ask better questions instead of sitting there nodding at medical terms I don’t fully understand. But if I’m going to use them, I make sure I’m looking at reputable sources, like government (.gov) or medical organization (.org) websites, instead of some random blog promising a “one-week cure” for everything.

     At the end of the day, I know medical websites are just a starting point, not a final answer. If I’m genuinely worried about my health, the smartest thing I can do is go see a doctor. Because let’s be honest—Google has tried to convince me I’m dying way too many times when all I really needed was some water and a long rest.

ELIE- Activity 4.2 (question no. 2)

     “ The Reality of Online Defamation” 

     I never thought I’d be a victim of online defamation, but it happened when I was in junior high school. Back in 8th grade, a classmate falsely accused me of cheating on an exam. The reality? I wasn’t cheating—I had simply reviewed my answers, and after noticing some mistakes, I had my teacher recheck my paper. That led to a few extra points, which apparently made my classmate furious. Instead of accepting that he had made mistakes, he decided to twist the story. Right there in the classroom, he shouted that I was a cheater, making sure as many people as possible heard him.

     I thought that was the end of it—just some classroom drama that would eventually die down. But I was wrong. That night, a friend messaged me, saying that the same classmate had posted something online, heavily implying that I had cheated. He didn’t mention my name, but it was obvious he was talking about me. The worst part? People started engaging with his post, fueling the false story. That night, I felt crushed. I cried myself to sleep, feeling completely helpless.

     The next morning, I decided I wasn’t going to let this slide. I told my parents everything, and they gave me advice on how to handle the situation. Instead of just staying silent, I confronted him directly. I was firm but controlled—I told him to delete the post immediately. I insisted that I wasn’t a cheater and made it clear that spreading false accusations online wasn’t just mean, but harmful. I also pointed out that his post made it seem like he was fishing for sympathy and trying to get people on his side without knowing the full story. I warned him that things like this could backfire, and in the end, he would only hurt himself.

     Thankfully, after that confrontation, he deleted the post. He never admitted he was wrong, but at least he stopped spreading lies. The damage was already done, though. Even after the post was gone, some people still believed the false accusation, and I had to work twice as hard to prove that I was honest. It was frustrating, but I learned a few valuable lessons from the experience. First, online defamation is no joke. A single false post can spread like wildfire, and even if it gets deleted, the damage can linger. People love drama, and once a story is out there, it’s hard to undo the impression it leaves. Second, staying silent isn’t always the best option. If I had ignored the situation, the false narrative might have grown even bigger. Speaking up for myself and addressing the issue directly helped shut it down before it got worse. Third, involving my parents was the right decision. At first, I thought I could handle it alone, but their advice gave me the confidence to stand my ground. Lastly, I realized how dangerous social media can be when people use it irresponsibly. It’s easy to type out a post without thinking about the consequences, but words—especially false accusations—have power. Additionally, online defamation is just one form of harmful content on the internet, and it happens more often than we think. International laws recognize that while freedom of expression is important, it has limits—especially when it starts harming others. Spreading false accusations, inciting violence, or posting hateful content isn’t just unethical; in many cases, it’s illegal. The courts play a role in defining these limits, ensuring that people can’t just say whatever they want without consequences.

     My experience taught me that social media isn’t just a place to share thoughts—it’s a platform where reputations can be built or destroyed in seconds. That’s why we need to be careful with what we say, what we share, and how we respond to online drama. And most importantly, we need to stand up for ourselves and others when falsehoods spread. The internet can be a harsh place, but with the right approach, we can at least try to make it a little less toxic.