23 for 2011

Christmas ain't over but here's to looking forward to everything new, and I don't mean literally.  My 2010 moi would probably be a bit diffident to post a wish list but then hey, what are wishes for if not taking that leap of faith? And why 23? Because I'm turning toowentyyythreee at para may "konek" lang, ano?

Shallow and deep, negotiable (i.e., subject to change, won't cry over not getting it) and non-negotiable (i.e., do-or-die) and a bit pushy, but this is 2011, baby.

1. 12. Solid.
2. Joshua 24:15
3. 144
4. Breakthrough in my academics
6. to get published
7. fruit in j12
8. a new Bible (MSG)
9. family vacay in a place across the ocean :)
10. house completion or a new family vehicle. Or both, why not.
11. favorable resolution in family's civil case
12. successful sale of Bata lot
13. a simple digital camera (you know, the handy one 'coz i won't try to compete with my bro's wish for a DSLR)
14. Stargazer
15. my own printer
16. a bookstand
17. to relearn driving. In my case, yes.
18. a ticket to a Ballet Philippines production or to a Dulaang UP play (or any good play) or to a concert of one of my fave bands/music artist(s)
19. amusement park adventure
20. an Omega watch (Constellation collection) - this is moooost wishful thinking but allow me
21. new running shoes
22. just one more cute little addition to our dog haven :)
23. absolute healing

Oh and there's prolly one more, but this one's strictly between me and God ;)

I want to look back at this post years from now, have a good laugh about it, and still praise God - for the things He granted and for those He did not (if any).

When the Calendar Strikes 12

February is one of my most favorite months for very obvious reasons (if you happen to be a stranger passing by this blog, no it’s not because of Valentine’s) but it comes only as a close second to December.  Yes, only a close second. I came to this conclusion when I was taking my undergraduate degree in UP.  There’s just something about December. It always makes the atmosphere cool and thick, amplifying the Christmas feel around the campus whose buildings throw on colorful lights and holiday furnishings.  I always find strolls along the academic oval a delight and a breather from a hard day’s worth of studying.  The cool breeze and the sound of the Carillon bells soothe and calm effortlessly.  But especially, I love the merry month because of the merry celebration it brings.  I love Christmas! I love it for the revelry, for the giving and receiving, for the food, the songs, the merry and the cheer. I love Christmas for the family gatherings and the memories made out of the occasion.  But most exceptionally, I love the season for its very reason.  I love it for Jesus.  It marks the humble birth of my Savior, of Him I owe every Christmas I’ve ever had.  It’s not just a feel-good month , ya know.  December marks the life of the most important person in my life - heck in all people's lives, as it should be!  It’s the time I am reminded that my God has been born into this world like everyone else. But it’s more than just a simple reminder. If I have one general wish this season for the rest of the world (because world peace is so passé), it’d be that Christmas be celebrated everyday – not with the gifts and sparkles, but with the heart that recognizes its real meaning.  We should celebrate it not just to remember.  We don’t usually celebrate birthdays without the celebrator, right? Just the same, Christmas is a birthday celebration.  So we should celebrate it like the birthday boy is here with us, because He really is! Without His presence, Christmas will cease to be. 

photo taken from sfgate.com

So this time, may Christmas be for the rest of the year and may it stay in our hearts for every month there is - and not just when the calendar tells us so. MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL! :)

My Kind of Outrageous

Because I feel like random today. And it's one of those moments you feel like you just want to jump into a crazy adventure. These are the things I think I want to try if money and time (and fear, maybe) weren’t so big a factor.

1)    Go on a Missions trip in South Africa or Burma.  - I’m not trying to do an Angelina.  I think I may just have the heart.  Besides this is no UN volunteerism, though I would also love to do just that.
2)    Ride a hot-air balloon on a date. – It’s really not that extreme but at least you’ll find me starry-eyed up there. If it's too fancy, a theme/amusement park would do just fine.
3)    Skydive and bungee jump – I would love to do both.For the thrill and the feel of freedom.
4)    Learn a foreign language, seriously this time.  – I took 6 units of French, 3 units of Russian and 3 units of Italian back in undergrad.  Sounds impressive, eh?  Ha! Spell S-A-B-O-G.
5)    Dance ballet - I know, I know, what's so outrageous about ballet? But understand me: it exceeds my kind of moderation. If I could turn back time, I’d probably have chosen to continue.  But then again, it’s only wishful thinking. Masaya na din ako watching ballet performances every now and then.
6)    Climb a snowy mountain. – Okay, well maybe not so snowy. I’m thinking the Himalayans.
7)    Go backpacking around the world. – Cambodia – the Andes– the Bahamas – Israel – Bogota - Russia – EUROPE (that’s a whole continent right there ‘coz there’s just too many too mention)  – and the list goes on. Don't fret, I am quite aware that I need to build up my stamina if I'm this ambitious. =)
8)    Don a pixie cut. – Or the UP Pep look.But first I need to muster the guts.
9)    Dye my hair platinum white. – Or buy a wig, if proposing the idea would freak my parents out.
10)  Scuba dive. – Because I'm aqua girl. Heck swimming is the only sport I feel I could be competitive in if I had serious training.  Plus I'm sure it's a wonderful world down there, I mean under the sea!
11) Dance in the rain on a summer dress. – Inspired by Taylor Swift’s Fearless. You should listen to the song. It totally gave me the idea.
12)   Play the drums or the violin. – I wonder why my parents never enrolled me in any musical instruments class.  They enrolled me in voice twice, in ballet for four years, in swimming for a summer, in an acting workshop but never found it in their soul to make me learn how to play even just one musical instrument.  I had to learn to play the guitar in class instead and it was only then that my dad decided to buy one.
13)    Speak in front of a large audience. – Large as in Big Dome large.
14)    Pass a law that is malum prohibitum. – Something less pathetic than punishing spitting on public spaces, which I actually proposed on a Criminal Law exam because nothing else came to mind. Pffft.
15)    Fly to outer space. – If not with Superman, at least in an uber cool space craft. If this sounds too outrageous, then maybe witnessing a meteor shower would do.
16)    Eat something weird. – Or not. Bleeech.
17)    Sleep outdoors (not camp, mind you)– Like in a beach or a football field or a cemetery (I may be kidding here but who knows)
18)    Fly a plane. And see the sunset from above.
19)    Telekinesis ala Matilda.  Aaaah, the power of the mind.
20)    Give birth sans anaesthesia. I'm no masochist, okay? But then again and hence, the title of this blog.

Crossroads

You know that point in a journey when you are faced with two roads that go opposite sides? You wish there was a sign for you pointing towards your destination, but there isn’t. And the choice is yours to make.  And you think travelling is the hardest part of your journey so far but you’re quite mistaken.  Decisions are bound to break you – again and again.  Why are they so hard to make?

Because I think I have the best of both worlds, but not really.  Long have I realized that I need to zero in on a solitary path if I want to thrive at something.  Feels like a crossroads – at her prime yet at sea floundering to go ashore her island of permanency.  I am not soul searching though; my life’s timeline has a clear demarcation sometime September of 2006 when I found myself – or to put it more accurately, when I was found.  If you ask me what I really want to do with my life, I could stare you straight in the eye without so much of a blink and not think twice of the answer.  I know what I was made to do. But how I am going to do it brings me to this point.  I may be able to do it a number of ways but that wouldn’t exactly yield the best and the very fact that I know it haunts.  So instead I ask, right now, how? Dreams come and go, some have rested quite eagerly in my heart but they can’t be chased altogether. So goes the elimination and slowly I pick some, leave some.  But it’s not enough.  Inside of me, there’s like this raging ball of fire burning for only one and I have to find it – or choose it to consume me.

Why am I even in law school? I must have made up my mind countless times about it, but I’m back to square one.  They say it’s normal to arrive at this point where you’ll try to figure out if it’s really for you.  There are nights – oftener now – when I’d rather do other stuff than study, days when I’d go to class mechanically, classes when I’d space out and find my mind wandering instead of focusing on the professor’s lecture.  Perhaps it’s the leniency. Second semester has been a far cry from the torment of first semester.  Professors are relatively less demanding.  But the desire to study shouldn’t be based on the terror level of the professor or the demand of the subject.  Regardless of the subject, I guess law school should always be law school.  You either absolutely want it or absolutely not.  So why does it feel like I’ve lost it?  Have I been disillusioned early on? I haven’t lost heart, have I?  Maybe this laxity is affording me more time to reflect as compared to the hullabaloo of last semester when thoughts of assessing life choices went to the backburner.  When you have no time to stop and think, you just press on and on even when your spirit’s desperately crying for a halt.  And when suddenly everything slows down, you suddenly catch yourself in a relapse or worse, at an inception.  I don’t know which is better.

I haven’t been through the friendliest of times during and right after the first semester.  I got a lot of first heartaches.  And when I say heartaches, I really mean it - drama aside.  But as mentioned, I really hadn’t had the time to indulge myself some reflections so I just went by the surge, scathing myself in the process.  But never mind the wounds; they don’t hurt as much when you’ve been through storms.  They seem to numb you at the onset, but they actually don’t.  Eventually you disregard them because you get bigger lesions.  What I am more concerned about is the bleakness before me.  I know what’s behind the fog and I am secure of that.  I just need to get it out of my sight.

But I never thought I’d find myself back here – or I knew perchance but I never really welcomed the idea.  It’s so familiar I want to puke.  I find myself in a paradox of getting used to unfamiliarity.

One can’t help it: why was I brought here in the first place? Why give back a dream that seemed only His to give when it feels like drifting away? I let it go once.  Afterwards I told myself that if and when it comes back, it’s mine for the taking.  But why does it feel like this? Did I just hear You wrong?

I get back the thrill every once in a while.  Then I lose it every once in a while.  Instability has always posed precarious dares - never a friend, always an obstinate foe.

Is it only to please mom and dad and the rest of the world who is dreaming for me? They have invested more than I have.  I can imagine the devastation it would bring if I say I’d had enough.  They’ve dreamed this dream for me and with me since time immemorial.  But I catch myself musing about the possibilities of my alternate world, what I could be doing if I wasn’t pursuing this.  I catch myself with questions. Why am I toiling during the best years of my life? Why am I letting myself absorb all the stress when this time of my life could be the most stress-free?  Why am I stuck in a classroom when I could be exploring the world? Why am I subjecting myself to this when I could be doing other things I also want to do? Why am I stuck here? Let’s see. At one point, I wanted to be in the Judiciary, but the institution seems snobby to ordinary people, like they’re creating a world of their own – utopian in aspiration but not close in fact.  So I figured I want to become a legislator instead if only to make laws more sensible or make sensible laws.  Bottom line is actually public service, veiled in the grime of politics.  I haven’t lost heart actually.  It’s just that it’s all a haze.  And up until I get to that point of lucidity, I’ll hang about this path.  I guess I would just have to fight and fight even without knowing if it’s all futile.  I couldn’t really stop, could I? I couldn’t really bring myself to a standstill.  I have to keep moving because the rest of the world won’t stop for me.  I am staying because I am hoping that even as I choose to continue, soon enough the mist will dissipate.  I am staying in the hopes that it is here and in the process that I will actually figure it out.  I am led to believe that answers won’t really come if I stop. Soon enough and not belatedly, it will fall into place.

Even amidst all the burns and bruises, I think I didn’t hear You wrong.  Even when it seems like time passed by mockingly, I will remain. I just needed that thud inside me, that leap to know it’s all alive.

Yeah, it’s all alive.

Aftermath

The world has become so unfamiliar.  Once you were part of the brew, now you appear an aloof soul – not exactly the person you wanted to carry as you step out.  So you have to stick it out and suck it in but not too much that you lose the very thing you’re risking all of these for.  Then the snaps evince that you had a good time those hours when everyone else seemed inebriated.  You fired one shot.  One shot was all it took.  You had to run off but without damages, and you knew it.  And this was the reason why you were playing tug-of-war with dear superego in the first place.  Not that you couldn’t stand the company – in fact you had heart, but the spirit that consumes the collective is just too much for a lone soldier.  So you have to take off prematurely only to find yourself in yet another rendezvous.  What have you gotten yourself into? You could have been watching Mechas in virtual action but here you are whooping it up in the real world.  You didn’t fire this time because there wasn’t any compulsion, thank goodness – maybe it’s the age, you figured.  But the conversations, the culture, the reverie were all too familiar.  Finally you remember the world, you knew how it felt but not completely – ‘coz it will never come to that point ever again.  You know you are not fooled but you continue and try to associate – without a noble resolve.  You knew you’d come home wanting to strangle your spirit.  You knew it would happen.  But you had to go because you couldn’t hide in the comforts of your “zone” forever.  You had to step out and inhale the air you yourself once breathed.  Guilt is out of the question.  It’s really a matter of intent and of doing something with it.  How did you differentiate yourself? Was it even manifest? And you call yourself radical.  You need to break more.  You need the nerve to embrace exile if that’s what it takes.  Whatever it takes, you need to put the light on full view, not dim it.  So what if the world will think otherwise.  So what if they’d dismiss you crazy.  So what if.  So what. So what.

Reliving History

(Overdue, but I'm posting it anyway to serve this blog's purpose. I wrote this as soon as I got home during my short semestral break.)

I.am.home.

A bit tired and sleepless, but my spirit’s buoyancy could not be disadvantaged. My mind reminds me, despite the jetlag, that I promised myself to write about my little and spontaneous field trip to the visiting Andalucia Galeon.  It was such a pleasure in itself, plus the side trip to the Luneta notwithstanding the then impending Legal History exam that awaited us days after.  It was worth the time anyhow, like studying the course hands-on.  But my mind’s on vacation mode NOW so instead of writing about the experience, I’ll just share a quote I lifted from one article in our reading list.

May I just disclaim though that I am in no way proposing a new world order (well maybe I am) but I haven’t gone haywire yet (and maybe I should be).

The old world is dying, but a new world is being born.  It generates inspiration from the chaos that beats upon us all. The false grandeur and security, the unfulfilled promises and illusionary power, the number of the dead and those who are about to die, will charge the forces of our courage and determination.  The old world will die so that the new world will be born with less sacrifice and agony for the living…*

- Carlos Bulosan, “Letter to a Filipino Woman” (1943)


*as quoted from J.A. Cabusao’s “Another World is Possible”: Cultural Studies and Critical Filipino Resistance

I would love to write about you

Someday.

It will be epic, as He said so it will.

This blog's a pensieve

I never post “academic” papers but this is a bit of an exception because I want to preserve a memory. Oftentimes, law school compels you to go through fay-yah!  But also, the people responsible for smoldering you are the ones who ultimately inspire you.  This is a short and rather cheesy reflection paper I made on a talk I now doubly appreciate. With her awe-inspiring dissent in the recently upheld decision on the plagiarism case against Justice Del Castillo, my brief “encounter” with Madame Justice Sereno will now be etched in memory. 

The newly-appointed She of the SC: Profiling and Musings

(Reflection Paper on Lady Justice Ma. Lourdes Sereno’s Talk)

Law is more than a profession; it’s passion for the most junior Associate Justice of the Supreme Court.  She was nothing short of my expectation; in fact the Lady Justice deconstructed my already preset impression of the role she took for herself – monotonous, assured, ne plus ultra.  Though not mere representation of the Judiciary, it was comforting to know that the quality of her character communicated a sense of idealism and in a way though passé, a sense of faith to the institution.

She used rhetoric that did not merit sarcasm. From someone who consciously chose a relatively recluse life – the high price she had to pay – the Lady Justice seemed delighted in recounting her own law school experience and narrating what seemed sundries but were, in fact, practicalities of the legal career path. Questions were stanchly answered with the right balance of modesty and savvy – mindful of her audience, never bordering on too much.  Unsolicited advice was even much appreciated.  I, for one, needed to hear from someone in the judicial pedestal the possibility of realizing the seeming impossibility that is law school.  It was great relief and privilege, perhaps, to glean a positive opinion of such a personality.  Digressing from impartial judgment so often taught, I therefore admit to admiring her character.  One is led to smile thinking the President might have made a fine choice after all.

I understand that the Justice is not mere representation of the Judiciary, but it is comfort – and if I may add, motivation - especially to the ears of a first year law student, that quality of character and a high sense of idealism are not only wishful thinking in the said branch.   She is no embodiment, but she is hope for virtue where it is believed to be premium.

The talk effected a gentle and perhaps, personal stirring of dreams or ambitions.  Initially, I projected a discussion of the most pertinent legal (or political) issues, but there was minimal discourse of the same. As a matter of fact (or of personal opinion), she did not disappoint. The talk granted what I secretly implored: the oxymoron of practical idealism, of modest surefootedness, of a gentle strength, of an actual life in law. Every once in a while, a law student needs to be reminded of why he/she is pursuing this “road less travelled” – elitist in disposition but noble in design. The talk afforded us that much needed reminder.

I know I NEEDED to hear that.


Here’s to reading more sense and sensibility. I hope she does not disappoint – ever.

For the Love of Crim

“Define malum prohibitum.”

“Malum prohibitum, is an act prohibited by law, like jaywalking or chewing gum in Singapore!”

“Therefore malum in se?”

“Is an action! That is evil in itself! Assault, murder, white shoes after labour day.”

– Elle and Emmet from Legally Blonde: The Musical



Because my finals are tomorrow. I love studying Criminal Law. It doesn’t bore me and I don’t easily fall asleep reading cases.  It activates one’s imagination because facts are detailed and rather visual.  It's like watching a movie (with all the action, drama, thriller, and horror rolled into one).  Only that, you're actually reading it and it's true to life, which makes it more epic. BUT here's the catch: somehow, it cultivates more paranoia for the already paranoid. Not that I'm saying I am. I rebuke the spirit. 

Plus, I hate reading rape cases.Blaaah.

Impossibilium nulla obligatio est.

Last streeeeeeeeeeetch. Here we go!

My finals are looming like Goliaths.  But I'm claiming David, yo. :)

Oh, how I missed thee

 ...good ol' Poetry :)

(A foiled attempt at vers libre)

A Matter of Season

Has winter passed us by?
The fire flickers or it does hide
Under the guise of coldness,
Of this strange distance where we began.

Perhaps it’s time for spring
When trees bloom
Thus we grow,
Sowing and reaping
Sowing and weeping.

Shall we wait for autumn
When golden leaves fall?
They go a-crackin’, dried and broken
Shaken and shaken
Until their fall.
Can you hold on a little bit more?

But I look to summer,
Though it hasn’t come.
I lay still gazing towards the sun.
I’ll meet you there
At its peak, under the scorching heat
When church bells ring,
Church bells sing.

Let's talk about boys

Sure I had my fair share of butterflies in the tummy way back my teenybopper days.  I had my first serious crush (and I call it serious because it was rather long-term) in grade 5. I remember trying to hide stupid smiles when our eyes accidentally meet. I recall feigning nonchalance after receiving my first Valentine’s gift, attempting to sound ladylike cool whenever he called on the phone, finding excuses to go to the cafeteria (even though I had baon) just so I could bump into him, and above all trying to deny to death that I was actually crushing!  Aaaah, kapag tumibok nga naman ang puso.  Or puso nga ba? But I call it young unadulterated affections. I wouldn’t dare call it love to avoid self-incrimination. It was just a simple throb of the heart – or rather, the hypothalamus. Or a plain surge of hormones. We had no magazines to drool over boys back in grade school; sweat-laden, pigtail-pulling creatures were sooo not drool-worthy.  There was nothing to try to legitimize (and encourage in order to exploit) too much attention to the XY specie.  Not that noticing them is bad; it’s natural! It’s normal! Hurrah, hurrah. You’re abnormal if you haven’t felt a teeny-weeny bit of kilig.  But the danger of too much spells fixation that’s out of all proportion.

Earlier this week, I had a rather hearty lunch with some girl friends at Banapple (highly recommended, by the way).  It was too hearty in fact that we had to deliberately pause for breaks before desserts.  One friend grabbed a Candy magazine and gave a brief shriek after seeing some Jackson kid on the cover.  Then there was Nick Jonas on the other side; another friend seated next to me announced her distaste for the other Jonas brother (Joe, I think) to which I professed my disinterest to those young lads because I personally would rather drool over the oldies RDJ, Hugh Jackman, Gerald Butler and the likes. Call me old school, I wouldn’t mind. So we went into girl talk, but when my friend browsed through the pages, I noticed – and with utter amazement – that majority of the folios served to hail and highlight pictures, profiles and juicy curios of… tandarararan…  BOYS. And more boys. Young men, school boys, cute and pa-cute boys, pretty boys, local biz boys, Hollywood boys, random boys, Justine Bieber wannabes, Jonases, and even all-grown-up-Peter-Pan-Jeremy-Sumpter – NAME IT. They all grace the insides of the glossy publication.  This was the publication I once enjoyed for its fashion advices and I-so-can-totally-relate teen stories.  Whut! Have I been missing out on the youth too much? As far as I can remember, I’m just three years sailing away from teenage life.

Don’t get me wrong, I totally understand the process of puberty. I have nothing against the opposite sex ‘coz I’m looking forward to ending up with one for life.  During my time, which was not so long ago (and I’m not playing pretend here), those magazines always had pages (sometimes, centerfold) that featured ‘ze crush-worthy. So then…what’s your problem, dudette???

Well, I totally get it but I don’t totally dig it.

What I don’t dig is how indulgent and exploitative print media can become in terms of teenage mania. And teen magazines are just one of the many serious letdowns nowadays.  Adult publications (i.e., those debasing the female as object of lust and those that market superficial beauty), for a lack of a politically correct term, are becoming hard to stomach. You can blame my ego for all this bashing, but I will definitely drive my point.

In a way, I am generalizing and not generalizing. I’m not singling out any magazine because the trend is manifest in other forms of media too.  And the imminent menace of this is reflected in ways more than one. Children are advancing to the stage of premature adulthood with the way they pick their clothes, the way they learn expletives at an early age, the way they’d rather spend weekends in front of the computer than outdoors, the way they scurry to get into relationships, and the way they rush in where angels fear to tread.

Actually, that single observation led to a lot of realizations.  You can easily connect the dots from a starting point.  The youth are corruptible and school, media, the family, society and other institutions have respective prerogatives to tackle this fact.  Either they allow for aggravation of worsening worldviews of the youth or rectify the crooked (and hiding in the guise of liberalism) stance of the status quo.

So obviously, this entry is no tribute to the male specie.  It’s another violent musing. Hate me or love me, but seriously, I worry what kind of generation we might be raising. Don’t you?

Disappearing Act

Why ditch it? It’s a no-brainer, actually. First let me give it its due. In fairness to the genius that is Facebook, it had been a trusty go-to pal during episodes of mental and emotional overdrive. But – and here comes the heartbreak – it has been messing with my discipline.
 
Hence, if you can't beat it, ditch it.

No more cathartic interludes to disclose thoughts and emotions.
No more telling the whole world whatnots.
No more rant and rage stats.
No more virtual dialogues, however enjoyable and engaging.
No more tags.
No more virtual causes to support; after all, there are real ones that merit more credit dontchathink?
No more stalking the Dean – ooops.
No more eerie messages from incognitos.
No more unsolicited friend requests.
And most of all, no more neurosis triggers! Can I hear a huzzah!?

BUT. BUT. BUT. Hold your laments and judgments.

This is just pro tempore, after all. I’m no social goner just yet.

So, the general query: Why chastise thyself? Suffice it to say, it’s all done in good faith. :-)

An Inception State of Mind

Because the idea deserves it.

It wasn’t heart-stopping, nor was it jaw-dropping.  I presume it not as a brainchild, pilot and novel, but as awe to the psyche, remindful to it of what it can conceive…and achieve. The reality of the idea is here.

No, this is not a movie review.  Don't expect it here. Those are rendered for purely academic purposes on my part.  But this is a reflection, a musing of what my subconscious might have had already came across. This is rumination – one among many daily – of the human psyche. I shall merely state the obvious.

Dreams frequent me.  They serve different purposes – some I know not what – but they do.  Lately, my dreams haven’t been saccharine, like living in a fantasy world.  Some have been disconcerting, the kind that probably merit construal.  But most leave me retrieving, musing, conceiving. I’ve tried on my own to interpret, trying to crack the shell, make sense of the familiar unfamiliarity, of the seeming reverie.  I’ve had dream within dreams, semi-reality within the reality of sleep.  Dreams are an escape to the weary idealist, a nightmare to the content realist, a surprising projection of inmost desires.  But dreams are an instrument of communication.  The movie illustrated this by insinuating that the most genius form of manipulation is traversing the psyche, twisting it and engraving the idea without the slightest hint of doing so.  True enough, it is mind-blowing to conceive of inception in dreams – much more being stuck in limbo.  You never know when the dream ever started, or if they’ll ever end. Indeed, power is attributable – and very highly, almost utterly – to the mind.  It is a phenomenon that warrants some marvel.  And so, I marvel.

I write because I marvel. I write because I have an idea.  But this is not inception.  I’m sure it is no brainchild, for others might have beat me into it centuries long gone.  I write to reinforce an idea, to affirm that it crossed me – once, twice, thrice in my reality.  But this is a splitsecond hurrah.  ‘Coz this is my own little input.

What awes me most is inception.

It struck me.

An event that is a beginning.

I guess it will never really escape me.

The inception is the beginning; it is also the end.

When I Grow Up

If you think Law is IT for me, you’re mistaken.  Don’t be fooled with my previous write-ups, both hailing and ranting about the learned profession. Law is just like pre-school, ya know, to reaching my ACTUAL dreams and ambitions. Here’s a sneak peek of what I’m REALLY going to be when I grow up:

BALLERINA.  ‘Coz I love ‘em skintight leotards and tutus. But seriously. Four years of ballet cut short to turn me into a geek of some sort. When I got to see prima ballerina Liza Macuja perform in Swan Lake and in the flesh with all those other Russian danseuses, I just knew it.  I envisioned myself in the center stage…until my mom burst my bubble in fifth grade when she decided on my behalf that ballet is mere superfluity to hardcore academics. So, I wonder if I can give it another shot…only that my flexibility powers seem to be all poofed out now.  I can’t even do a decent split.

SHRINK.  If I weren’t torturing myself reading SCRA and digesting the sometimes indigestible constitutional, civil, criminal and what-have-you cases, I’d be all the same torturing myself (at least in a close to masochistic way bwahaha) trying to understand the abstraction that is the mind.  But what the hey?! Why would I want to understand how the brain works? Well, that’s a secret I won’t tell – at least not in public cyberspace.  And please, no, it’s not out of some nerdy curiosity. I’m no nerd, UGH.

SWIMMER. Because h2o is pure love.  And who can resist the smell of chlorine and sunscreen? Not me, dude, not moi.  And the beach, of course, which I miss direly!!! Just a trivia though: You’d be surprised to know I was a bit hydrophobic when I was a kiddo. I was mega loser that I couldn’t even muster the guts to submerge my head in water for a splitsecond. But as always, I was able to (because I had to!) overcome my fear and turn it into awesome LOVE.  Swimming is definitely the sports closest to my heart.
 
UN AMBASSADOR OF GOODWILL. Like Angelina Jolie - minus the tattoos and the paparazzi. I wouldn’t mind the Brad and the kids and the gorgeousness, though. *wink* Well, I’ve always considered myself pacifist in a lot of ways and “inclined” to “altruism” (but here’s a quick remark: I think that there’s actually an itty bitty tinge of self-service in altruism). In reminiscence, back in grade school, whenever a quarrel arose among friends you’d always find me in the middle – not wanting to take sides, trying to be the goody-goody mediator and the corny little peacemaker.  ‘Coz I love my peace, baby! I love them hippies. HAHA Belligerence should be banned from this world. Tact and diplomacy rock, yo.

The next Aung San Suu Kyi.



 

KIDDING.




 

Or Lea Salonga.




 

PARTLY KIDDING.



 

Or Lara Croft.

 

NO KIDDING.




AT ALL.

Okay, admittedly, the list seems more like frustrated fantasies than promising dreams.


Pero eto talaga NO JOKE…





Ang maging dakilang NANAY at LOLA at GREAT GRAND LOLA! O ano, akala mo lawyer pa din, no??? Boo.

I wasn’t super fond of kids before. But ever since I joined the kids’ ministry in church, I developed a fondness for the kiddos that grew to become admiration. Kids are the most awesome of the human race. They’re simple and pure and inoffensive and oozing with faith.  Being surrounded with children makes me want to relive childhood, or rather, WANT to be a child all over again. Adults should sometimes unlearn being adults and relearn to be young again, to be youthful and childlike.

When you’re a kid, you have all these dreams. You can dream all you want, deaf to the world’s taunts and jeers. And the greatest part is, in a kid’s little world, there are absolutely NO LIMITS! 

And when I say no limits, I mean being a Justice of the Supreme Court flying to the moon, being likewise an astronaut who’s pastoring millions and gazillions of stars while taking care of her brood tagging along in a space craft and being the perfect wife to a handsome alien husband from planet Krypton.

Nah, of course I’m just kidding.

You go for your zenith

 Why did I subject myself to this?
Why am I subjecting myself to this?
Why? Why? Why?

Lately, I kid myself with these questions.  Alam ko naman na itatanong ko din 'to eventually. I try to joke around with it so that after a crying session of frustration and letdown, I am able to compose myself again.  I barely get to chew on disappointment simply because time and keeping up with the rest of my world don’t afford me the opportunity.  Lately, I haven’t been really the type to dwell and mull over negativities. Why? Dyahe eh. I don’t like thinking about them. But I guess you never really escape that moment when the world seems to be all doom and gloom, as if it just turned its back on you (this is an exaggeration so don’t take me too seriously). I guess somehow you would eventually get to that point of almost losing it.  ALMOST, but not quite. But then if you’re the type who’s like me, you will end up TRYING to tough it out (God knows if you’re successful) and eventually deciding to woman (or man) up to it.  Giving up simply is and cannot be part of your vocabulary – unless the heavens turned on you and decided on your behalf.  There will come a point you will question your capacity, your ability, your intellect, your heart, and your destiny.  But after falling hard and true, to that deepest almost endless pit, you find out you cannot fall farther or dig deeper.  The only other option (aside from waiting passively for death) is to find your way up – no matter how forlorn the thought, no matter how agonizing the climb, no matter how heartrending the process.  You just have to find yourself again, find your purpose despite the world shouting, “HEY! JUST QUIT IT, YO. IT’S IMPOSSIBLE! WHO ARE YOU FOOLING?”  You just have to dust yourself up, even with the tears and mud and burns and bruises.  Either that or you die.  Because what’s the point of living when you are not able to live your call? As one of my favorite professors (I won’t name him ‘coz I’m still under his class haha) put it, you have to reach the maximum utility.  In this case, one has to reach the maximum utility in life.  In economics, it’s maximizing efficiency; it sounds superfluous but that’s how it is.  Either you live to the maximum or you don’t live at all.  You don’t settle for just living; you go for LIVING!  You don’t settle for what you could easily do, you go for that which breaks you and contests you and pounds you to pieces and makes you come alive. You don't settle for just a piece of cake, you go to the vomit-inducing. You don't settle for the chickeeeeen, you go for the heartstopping. You go for that which spreads you too thinly, to the point that you almost founder.  You go for that which brings you to the edge, to the brink of kaput.  You go for that which brings out the best in you after life subjects you to the worst.  You go for your zenith.  You find it and subject yourself to its ordeal.  As Helen Keller avers,

"Life is either a daring adventure....” 

That adventure depends on you.  It could be adventure in the literal, or it could be something internal or abstract.  Whatever it is, go for it at full speed.  It’s not for the thrill of it – there is no thrill in distress.  It’s not for the masochist in you (well, perhaps for some they could attest) but it’s for the very purpose of YOUR living – that you were able to live the life you were supposed to live.  I believe we all have that life we are destined to live.  Some of us do live it but only to a certain extent.  Some of us don’t really reach zenith.  Sad part is some of us don’t ever get to live it.  But what’s the saddest – if not the worst -  is not ever realizing it.  They say that ignorance is bliss.  I give partial credit to that.  There is some truth to the suffering of knowing.  But when you suffer, it is only out of a metacognition of your status.  And that metacognition is the superlative of the outset.  It is the first step to reaching your zenith.  And what is life if not living it all out? What is our existence if not giving it up to live?

We don’t live to merely exist.  We give up our being to BE. We cease to exist so that we may acquire life.

We die to live.

Three's A Crowd

Meet my new and coolest friends! These buddies keep me company in the wee hours, always there through thick and thin (..readings). So lemme present....*drum roll* please

BFF # 1: Kulay-ful Markers and Pens

I have to admit, they may not be that BFF material but they sure make studying lighter and much more, erhm, fun. Trust me, when you're forced to go GEEK mode (or trying to be, like yours truly), you can't help but indulge in the littlest pleasures like enjoying switching between highlighters. I know, ang babaw but heeeey, they give life to the rather arduous feat of trying to stay awake while brow-burning. I need their sanguine-ness when my eyes go droopy. Their life span's shorter relative to undergrad usage (considering the Mt. Everest of readings I have), so I have the grandest excuse to COLLECT! Woopeee! :)

BFF # 2: Coffee

Well, we didn't click the first time.  Can't blame me though. This thing always got my heart beating twice the normal rate. I used to have palpitation fits with her.  ‘Di kami bati noon eh, lagi niya kasi ako pinapahamak. But not anymore! Of course, miracles DO happen...and whoever wants to remain enemies with the very thing who's got the solution to her perennial problem?! :)) You see, I really had no choice but to befriend Ms. Coffee right here.  I call it FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS. Yeaaap, she's the best frenemy ever :)

BFF # 3: The Text

Last but definitely not the least. There can never be markers and coffee without THE text. It’s the very material that connects the whole barkada. You're the glue, dude! Who's the meanest, baddest, bully-est of them all? Of course it would have to be You, collective books and papers. I am survived by you. How can I not love you? Hands down, you're the bestest best SADIST friend on the block :)  I'd die in recit without you. :))


So there. 3 weeks in school. New environment, new experiences and new friends! Welcome to the best dweeb life ever! :))

Hanggang

Ilang ulit mo bang, itinatanong sakin
kung hanggang saan,hanggang saan, hanggang kailan,
hanggang kailan mag tatagal,
ang aking pag mamahal,

Ilang beses na nga ba ika'y natanong? Hanggang kailan, hanggang saan?

hanggang may himig pa akong naririnig,
dito sa aking daig-dig
hanggang may musika akong tinataglay,
ika'y iniibig

Ilang beses na rin bang tumulo mga perlas mong luha? Ngunit hindi nagsawa ang iyong pagmamahal. Ni hindi tumalikod, walang panahon ng paglisan..

giliw wag mo sanang isiping
ikaw ay aking lilisanin,
di ko magagawang
lumayo sayong piling
at nais kong malaman mo
kung gaano kita kamahal

Bakit nga ba? Hindi ko mawari 'yang puso mo... pero patuloy siyang tumitibok, naririnig ko. Bakit nga ba? Bakit? At sa mga sandaling ninais kong lumayo, ika'y nanatili...Bakit mo nga ba ako minahal?

hanggang ang diwa ko'y
tanging sayo laan
mamahalin kailanman
hanggang pag ibig ko'y
hanggang walang hanggan
tanging ikaw lamang

Hindi ko maintindihan. Hindi ko kayang tumbasan, ngunit sa puso ko'y Ika'y nanahan. Lagi na lang...akong umiiyak sa walang kondisyong iyong pagtanggap. Bakit mo nga ba ako minahal?

hanggang may himig pa akong naririnig
dito sa aking daig-dig
hanggang may musika akong tinataglay
ika'y iniibig

Ngayo'y hindi ko maipapangako ang katumbas ng iyong puso, ngunit ito'y ilalaan para sa iyo lamang.Sa mga pagkakataon ako'y makalimot, ipagpatawad muli, saluhin mo ako ng iyong pag-ibig. Hanggang kailan, hanggang saan? Maaring 'di ko alam...

giliw wag mo sanang isiping
ikaw ay aking lilisanin
di ko magagawang
lumayo sayong piling
at nais kong malaman mo
kung gaano kita kamahal

Ngayo'y ito'y pinanghahawakan, sumpa nang walang hanggan. 'Wag bibitiw O giliw, 'wag lilisan...Ika'y minamahal.

hanggang may puso akong
marunong mag mahal
na ang sinisigaw ay lagi ng ikaw
hanggang saan hanggang kailan
hanggang kailan kita mahal
hanggang ang buhay ko'y
kunin ng may kapal

Hangga't sa ang puso ko'y nagmamahal, ika'y isisigaw...

giliw wag mo sanang isipin
ikaw ay aking lilisanin
di ko magagawang
lumayo sayong piling
hanggang may pag ibig
laging isisigaw, tanging ikaw

O Giliw

hanggang may pag ibig
laging isisigaw, tanging Ikaw...

To Live By

"I will not die an unlived life. I will not live in
fear of falling or catching fire. I choose to inhabit
my days, to allow my living to open me, to make me less
afraid, more accessible, to loosen my heart until it
becomes a wing, a torch, a promise. I choose to risk my
significance; to live so that which comes to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom and that which comes to me
as blossom, goes on as fruit."

-- Dawna Markova

A Love Letter

Dear Malcolm,

I know we just met. I barely know you, except for circulating rumors and almost a week's worth of getting-to-know. I've heard all about your notoriety - your angas repute, your snobbish style. They say that getting into a relationship with you entails a roller-coaster ride. But I'll shrug 'em off..

'Coz I think...and I KNOW IT'S TOO EARLY TO SAY...but I'll say it anyway...

...I think...

I've just fallen for you.

I'm sure you're used to admirers and haters alike. Girls swoon - and FAINT - over you. Even the most alpha of the male specie shudder in your midst. I'm no masochist, don't get me wrong. You're just too awesome not to like. And promise, I'll pray not to regret getting involved with you. DON'T DISAPPOINT.

And as the song goes, "Jai ho."


Tayo na, ha? Kahit four years lang. ;)


xoxo,

Aiken


P.S.

Just so you know, I don't like cool-offs. So steady lang tayo. :D

Prelude to Whatever: Complicated Premises, Simple Conclusion

I’d say the UP College of Law is bent for some hard sell. Or to presume it more accurately, it already has its much coveted buildup as THE killer academic institution. From enrollment to the orientation, I could sense shock waves transmitted from one freshman to the next. Mind you, we haven’t even started yet. And as if we haven’t had enough jitters to spew, the institution seemed to take pleasure in sowing seeds of agitation to the frosh. Not one itty bitty opportunity was missed at insinuating the struggles of this road less traveled. If this is what gearing us up for the pits of law school is, I’d better be praying for some heaven.

Overwhelmed is such an understatement. The opposite – capitulated – is how I’d rather describe it. No matter how hard I scream inside or try to distract myself, I know that it’ll be futile. The best option would be to surrender – surrender every amount of stress and worry to Him, surrender everything to the Father.

I’m caught in a standstill. I’m contemplating whether or not to give up my part-time stint as a writer. Would I be able to juggle? I guess so. But would I be able to juggle without compromising my academics and risking my health? I can’t afford mediocrity in school and in my job. Plus, ministry should not be put on hold. I don’t know if last week’s hiatus from Clementine’s (my little ideapad) momentary death is a sign to stop. Or maybe I was just given enough stretch to decide. In any case, it led to some starting anew. My files are all RIP now. I hardly struggled with the letting go stage. I guess the heavens are telling me to start with a clean slate. I fear I might be exaggerating this experience, but I am at this so-called transition point. It’s pretty tough a stage so I’m cutting myself some slack.

Sigh. Decisions. Decisions. I’ve noticed the alteration in my temperament the past month. I’ve been less analytical and emotional the past weeks. Whenever the spirit of “dwelling on something” lures, I feel like there’s a shield ready to deflect every attack. Good thing Jesus taught us the simplicity of things. People tend to blow up little things. Sometimes, life gets so theatrical because of our inflated view of ourselves. Matthew 5:37 tells us that life is sometimes just a simple “yes” or “no” to which I say, right on! More often than not, we don’t really need that complicated gray, middle area which I abhor BY THE WAY. If we realize that life’s just really simple, we also are able to simplify things.

So, my point exactly is to keep things simple and in perspective. (That’s your grand formula for the next four years?!! Your supposedly well pre-meditated game plan?? Uhuh. I know of no other). When life seems too tough, I pray to remember that God’s love is simple. This goes with every decision. When the next chapter of my life seems so complicated, I know that His love will un-complicate things. When the demands of law school seem to reach zenith, I’d find myself at His feet. When ministry life is on the brink of burn-out, I know His mercies and love are fresh every morning. When I get so complicated, I know His love will un-complicate every complication in me. And His love is the only Truth I know. So I guess that’s just what really matters, eh?

The write-up that never made it to the About Me page

Much to my introversion, I have actually wanted to create a self-portrait back in college.  But since I’m no good at drawing at all, I’ll make up for it in blogging. So excuse me for a blog’s moment.

I’m predominantly melancholic, subsequently phlegmatic and sanguine (they tend to play tug of war), and working on my choleric muscle. I multitask but am not multipurpose. I think I want to live in Fully Booked, the one in Serendra; it’s like a four-/five-storey nerd’s haven. I have found out that there is actually a sense of fulfillment in doing your own laundry.  I seriously want to sky-dive.  I have selective academic memory, an attempt to justify a deficit in mathematical flair (haha).  I am petite, deal with it. I love the word “perennial”. I am eclectic when it comes to music (I appreciate the 70s, was born an 80s fan, left my heart in the 90s and going with the flow of the double zeroes).  Can I qualify myself multilingual? For an aspirant, I am fairly fluent in English, Tagalog and Ilonggo and can say “I love you” in about 11 languages…and c-o-u-n-t-ing. Holy (or godly) is the new handsome. A Kindle is a wish, an iPad another wish, but books are a timeless essential.  I have aligned myself a few notches left of center in the political spectrum – this is in hindsight; now my politics is based solely on His. Contrary to common standards, love, for me, is no trial and error; I am not for trial and I am not an error. I believe in a three-fold profession: to administer justice, to preach, and to go forth and multiply. Of course, to love is the upward call. My personal credence is not hot or cold and especially not lukewarm; I’d very much prefer white-hot (thanks to Rhoald Dahl for the term). I don’t want to live elsewhere abroad ‘coz I love my Philippines, baby! There is no such thing as an “accident” because I wouldn’t be in Destiny if this wasn’t so. 

Once upon a time, I was good as dead.  But then I met grace hanging on the Cross. Now I know I have my happily ever after.

My Happy Life Song

(Because it just captures so much ^_^)

AND SO I AM - Erin O'Donell

I have been known to overanalyze
I like ice cream but only late at night
I don't give up without a decent fight
This is who I am

I am a hopeless romantic
But life leaves no time to get caught up in it
But still my cup is overflowing with
Happiness and joy

Chorus
I am faith and hope
I know 'cause I am known
Your are life and love
You are and so I am

I am the owner of a moody soul
I try to accept the things I can't control
There's so much that I guess I'll never know
I take it as it comes

I don't drink coffee
I like my sleep
It's hard to admit it when I have a need

Good or bad this is the truth about me
But more importantly....

Chorus

You are and so I am
Undeserving but forgiven
I was hopeless but now i'm living
I was lost until you found me
I am free because you saved me

I am faith and hope
I know 'cause I am known
You are life and love
You are and so I am
I am grace and truth
I am all things in you
You are life and love You are and so I am 

Thinking Out Loud

 I am for Eddie Villanueva. I will vote for him for what he is and what he is not.

What he is levels the playing field when juxtaposed to the likes of Teodoro and Gordon, and maybe even Aquino.  What he is not shames the others known for political and moral sleaze.

What he is is what others are not and maybe vice versa. 

If we talk about galing, he may not exactly be topnotch but he has it, to say the least. Marcos and GMA had their chance of putting their genius to good use, but they blew it – BIG TIME.  And whoever said skill and genius can save this nation? We had had far too many geniuses that bled dry the nation’s coffer.  Our nation plunged to a downward spiral ever since Marcos.

If we talk leadership, the guy’s piloting multitudes. There’s not a trace of doubt in my mind about his ability to lead a people. He took care of his flock successfully.  He who is faithful with a few can be trusted to take care of the many given him.  What makes him capable, you ask? Simple: He took care of his Father’s sheep.

If we talk passion, the guy’s a walking image emblazoning the very term.  I don’t mean to be blunt about it – I am blunt about it. A self-confessed ex-atheist, he rallied in the streets against martial rule before he rallied people to the Source of it all.  Radical is what he was and still is.  His love for the Philippines never dwindled upon discovering faith.  Through His love for God, a deeper love for his country was birthed. I don’t mean to sound religious but you gotta deal with it.  His passion’s the REAL thing.

If we talk virtue, he just might put to shame his contenders – a point I will not further explicate because bashing would be unnecessary.

If we talk integrity, I see no other who can boldly embody the word without claiming it for himself.

If we talk competence, he’s in. That he had experience lecturing about Political Economy or that he went to a prestigious law school are just mere add-ons.

If we talk faith, speaking in his behalf won’t suffice.  To call him just a religious leader to downgrade his qualification is pitiful an attempt.  To use the supposed separation of the Church and the State to counter the guy’s bid for the presidency is out of context.  The Preamble commences imploring the aid of the Almighty God, not the aid of religion.  We need to understand that religion is not God.  It’s highly agreeable that leaders like Villanueva shouldn’t become politicians. Why would he? After all, he was called to PUBLIC SERVICE and not to the comical world of POLITICS. There’s a fine line of difference right there.

If we talk utang na loob, don’t we want a president who is accountable only to God and to his countrymen – not to any political trapos?  I don’t want a leader shifting sides when self-serving interests call for it. I don’t want a leader wavering between opinions.

The Philippines does not need another lesser evil.  Let’s raise the honor of this country, por favor. At such a dismal state, I don’t want to play my cards on ambiguity anymore.  The Philippines may not deserve the kind of leadership it hopes for, but it needs it direly. 

We’re choking to death but eggheads still boast their own cynicism. We’re down in the dumps and complain, but we choose to remain there by voting blindly.  We’re close to hopeless as a nation yet we fail to anchor our hopes in the right source.  We want change but we’re betting on leaders that can’t even change themselves. My pastor put it perfectly when he said, “A leader that cannot even change himself cannot change the whole nation.”

Do we deserve a better Philippines? We may not. But I WANT a better one.

 2010-2016? I say babangon tayo. Eddie Ako.

Let me write about you

…about your ways familiar, your natural concern, your intuition almost always right, your character indomitable, your calm upon every storm, your beauty radiating by age, your conviction strong-willed and wise, your love so true and outright.

…about your stance willful but gentle, your diversions infectious and feeding, your heart so big untainted, your wit that never fails to cheer, your presence prized more than gold, your love unrelenting.

…about your spirit childlike and true, your beauty from the inside out, your nature true to form, your heart ever so patient, your soul forgiving, your love untainted.

…about your aura placid as ever, your genius you must realize, your innocence behind the mask, your future stellar, your love quiet and meek.

…about your wisdom of old, your heart fragile but overflowing, your blood flowing in mine, your companion whose love lingers, your love ever growing.

…about you and the future, your friendship genuine, your alliance everlasting, your love by His love, your life-bearing love.

…about you prized more than life, your smiles tear-jerking, your laughter joy-giving, your hugs uplifting, your love consuming.

…about You and You and You and You

…about Your love eternal, about Your love saving, Your love dying, Your love creating, Your love haunting, Your love unfailing, Your love securing, Your love unending, Your love absolute.

So, let me write about You.

NERD-ing

It’s when you find yourself failing, despite desperate efforts, to busy with something.  Then you let your mind linger for a little while – to that vast and empty space where you could pour in a good amount of your own ideas and imaginations.  Or some fiend beat you to pouring in his own ideas to distort yours. So you stop as you recall and recoil in thought: an idle mind? The devil’s workshop?

Danger zone. Fat chance.

So your hand reach the nearest sensible soft- or hardbound.  Familiar feel of fiction: unsatisfactory. Not enough to satiate. So you fidget around still, finding more than fiction.  And – yep – there goes sensibility.  You grab hold – eyes wide – of that bulky boredom of a book.

Textbook on the PHILIPPINE CONSTITUTION.

Welcome to this rare occasion of swotting. 

Profiling the Self and Other Rambles

photo courtesy of Mobile1

I am amazed at how I am easily amazed by little things, and just the same at how unperturbed I react with some big ones.  Am I of the psychologically anomalous lot?

I am rather upset by my almost annoying pacifist nature.  Not that I want belligerence into my system; maybe I am led to justify some glitches in self-esteem with being passive.  This has to be dealt promptly.

Shortly after the previous week’s hiatus, I have concluded how thinking equates to therapy.  It’s expected (to say the least) to a melancholy state of mind.  One just has to learn to filter thoughts.  It’s therapy – not hindrance – to an au natural walking psyche.  But too much of it is Prozac – destructive in a way that is addictive.

For a person who once fought and frantically fights inconsistency out of her being, it is to be assumed that she desires consistency from herself and others.  It’s an attempt at security knowing the insecurity the problem at hand brings.  The problem (or rather, the threat of the problem) triggers the solution.

If I were to be my own shrink, I’d diagnose internal entropy – if there’s such a thing.  Seriously, I’d like to teach concord to my id, ego and superego.   I guess it’s all about subduing them three. But most importantly and preferably, it’s bending the will to the right source.

I refuse and henceforth refuse being nondescript.  Not my thing and especially not my nature.  Such a shame if I should waste away like that.

The past week has taught me a lot of good things.  In fact, they’re beyond good. Wielding to refuse condemnation was not big a dilemma but it wasn’t piece of cake either.  The key, I guess and I have peace of assuming correctly, is love.  Hate shouldn’t be my business because it isn’t.  Have I got the nerve to wield it? Not even the right.

If I have to describe the inclusive emotion of the previous week, I would no doubt say bittersweet.  It’s a paradox in itself just as how the past week has been.  Were we created ironical? ‘Coz it seems our very nature – both human and spirit – shout all sorts of ironies.  Mostly, good ones I would like to believe. 

By and large, I wouldn’t expose such a parody of myself (and mind, in particular) in unrestricted space.  But this is an exception because otherwise, I wouldn’t have enough impetus to write when I had wanted to.

In conclusion, you don’t really have to understand my babbling.  As I said, it’s like therapy – this whole rambling thing, this madness. ;)

And no, I’m not at all about to take full interest in Psychology. At least, maybe not yet.

Spotted Chuck Bass

It was like one of those silly moments.  Kez and I uttered those words that probably had our Father give in with a laugh.  Even the angels probably aww-ed with wonder at our childlike – or childish – excitement. 

The first one was close.  We let out a girly, giddy shrill as our eyes got a hold of the pink Blues Clues stuffed animal hoisted by the mechanical hand.  But our fancy was rather momentary.  It succumbed to gravity before we could rejoice. It was close - so close in fact, that the prize was just a few millimeters away from getting into our hands. We heaved out a big sigh.  And God must have seen our letdown but fighting, hopeful spirit.  He couldn’t let us down this time – not when we put so much of our hopes into His hands.

We didn’t waste time to ponder a second try.  With double effort and extra-needed faith, we mouthed our prayers – this time adding “In His name” and “By His blood” to the conclusion.  I guess God must have blushed with jest at the very scene unfolding before Him.  Around us I noticed two or three teenagers watching and Timezone’s security guard trying to hold in a guffaw as he watched the outcome unravel.

A few maneuvering moves of the stick later, we settled for what we deemed a good spot and let out one last murmured plea.  Then Kez pushed the button.  We watched in much anticipation as the mechanical hand grabbed perfect hold of the pink fluff and moved it to the perfect landing spot…and dropped it, almost unbelievably.

We shrieked.

Our eyes couldn’t believe it.  What was the probability?

We really weren’t able to get over the astonishment fast but I came back to my senses quick enough to notice the guard grin sheepishly and a few bystanders almost fascinated not by the “miraculous” event but by the reactions painted all over our faces. 

Good thing we didn’t look our age. J

Honestly, we went through some heavy chow time thinking over the name we would give the pink stuff. 

Destiny? Summer?

How can you say it’s a she?

It’s colored pink.

But it looks more like a he to me. The color shouldn’t be a bias factor, ya know.

You’ve a point.

Plus, he’s got that scarf – which makes him look gay, actually. Ha, ha.

Conrad?

How about Caleb?

Ummm, no.

Well I guess it doesn’t sound right for a stuffed toy. Hmmm. Let’s think of something relevant that happened today and relate the name. How about relate it to Alice’s?

The Madhatter, of course! Maddy! We can call him Maddy.

Cute but how about Johnny? Like Johnny Depp?

Not quite.

I know! He has a scarf. How about Chuck? Like Chuck Bass always wore his signature scarf.

Oh, right! Perfect! And he’s spotted.

Perfect. So it’s settled then.

“Spotted: Chuck Bass,” we chorused, mimicking Gossip Girl’s infamous voice-over.

And so that, my dear friends, was how it all came about.

But you are afforded the right to call the little fluff Chuckie, if you’re chummy enough with him.

Don’t get us wrong though.  We really just had the time of our lives – reliving childhood and making God laugh, probably.  Not that we’re all pathetic and all. Just living ridiculously young. Really. ;)

The BIGGER Picture

I can vividly remember, it was January of last year when I circled Diliman’s academic oval trying to force back those tears that were much too unruly for my weakened self.  Back then, the bigger picture was bleak, though somehow I tried to see it. All I held on to was a promise.

Just last Friday, I received news. I passed UP LAW and am qualified to enroll sans any interview. I was dumbfounded.

I found out about it in the midst of a live rock ‘n roll concert in the UP Fair.  For a second I thought I just lost my sense of hearing from all the head-banging commotion.  Everyone around me was going gaga over the revelry of the fair and here I was, in the middle of all the noise but completely deaf to their jubilation.  It was the prime of the night but lights from the fair blinded all around. However, inside me was my own little piece of sunshine that, for that moment and even just for that moment, shone more brightly than any of the lights that could be seen by the naked eye.

Oh yeah, I was pretty dumbfounded alright.

Just last year I was playing tug-of-war with God, trying to have my own laughable way.  Good thing I lost BIG TIME.  Pfft, the idiocy that is my opinion.  He knew better of course.  He knew this was going to happen.  And so as I look back, I seriously wouldn’t have it any other way – even if things turned out a bit differently. No matter where I go, I know it’s better than my best – His will, that is.

And so yeah, I passed UP Law.  Here goes my dream. But to be honest about it, euphoria has yet to sink in at the bottom. I guess I need about a month for that. But what I find most astounding is the idea that my desire is in congruence with His plan.  What a relief to know that one’s prayers are exactly what He wanted to grant.

It was just last year when it seemed so unclear, so unfair.  But in His time, He makes everything so beautiful – so beautiful that when the realization of a promise comes to pass, you are struck dumbfounded and in awe.

The bigger picture is much clearer when you’re seeing a part of it right in front of you.  It looks so good up close. But it’s much more exciting when the next part comes as a surprise…which, I guess, will always be.  Thank God. J

Melancholy, of late

It’s a minute to 2 in the morning. I am astir not because I can’t sleep; I could force some shut-eye if I wanted to. Besides, I can feel the demands of this corpora for some undeserved rest. But the reason for my vigil transcends what my physical may not readily grasp.  This is one of those moments when I wish the spiritual realm would just swallow me up and spit me back out into the physical, drained and empty.  How many times can someone be new again? How does one bury the dead that it may never have the chance to stir anew? Like how can a transgression be pardoned many times?  Well, only one answer comes to mind. Grace keeps us alive.

On the Revolutionary that is Che

Ernesto “Che” Guevara is some guy.  Otherwise, Benicio del Toro must have portrayed more than he should.  Cuba must pay some homage to Argentina for producing what history brands the symbol of the Cuban (if not Latin American) revolution.  Che took his revolutionary craze to smashing heights, even forging a deal with Fidel Castro to take the revolution throughout the Latin region in exchange for his adamant participation.  No one in his right mind would fight a war not his own if we speak in terms of nationality.  L’amour is what it takes.  This coming directly from a guy not of Cuban descent.  A love for freedom and humanity is what drove the revolution.  Bereft of that single factor, the revolutionary is pigeonholed as counterfeit.  Che defined the revolution quite differently than what is normally understood.  Revolution is not war.  Winning the war IS the start of the revolution.  One does not win a war then go home to his wife and children.  One wins the war and goes down to the real business of overthrowing a government.  If the governed wins, it does not remain governed.  It governs and must take on the task of doing so.  Otherwise, all is lost. 

Empathizing with the revolutionary that is Che is not necessarily siding with him.  But the l’amour that he exonerates leaves the lasting legacy. And the boldness to which he took change into his own hands and extended it to people leaves the indelible mark of a genuine revolution.  He was and probably will always be a man of high esteem for his character and principles, for the audacity and passion and for many other reasons the man is worthy of. 

If this man from Argentina could take his passion for Cuba to such a level of extremity, a man from his own land could no doubt take it farther.  If this revolutionary roots his cause from l’amour, any man who roots his cause from something higher and greater can definitely bring revolution to ethereal realms.  Not every man can be like Che, but as the guy points out, even the peasantry can join the force that leads to transformation.  Consequently, even the mundane takes on the courage day by day against the option of backsliding in failure.  As the seemingly strong cower, the weak musters up the courage to be the strong.