#MultipleIntelligence

There are just some things that make a lot of sense when you're scrolling down your newsfeed. Today, I found this. And to me, it made a lot of sense. :) 

I may never beat or be as good as Einstein when it comes to Quantum Physics (or just plain Physics for goodness' sake!), but I bet he'd never outscore me in karaoke :P or preach with as much passion. :) I'm sure I don't know a whole lot of stuff that my professor knows, but I'm also quite sure that the converse holds true.  I'm just saying that we gotta love and embrace who we are, what God gave us and focus on our respective gifts and strengths. Then, we shine.  We can't drown in other people's expectations.  We aim for a goal and if we miss the first shot, who cares? Never mind the inglorious whisperers on the sidelines, the condescending look on your professor's face, the judgment that passeth the countenance of a stranger.  We try again. 'Coz if we kiss-ass and people please and try to succumb to every expectation, we will fall short at some point and fall prey to depression. So we embrace our identity, our uniqueness, and our abilities in order for us to shine the best we can.  We dust ourselves up, wipe the tears from our eyes and tell ourselves "Sige lang, ok lang yan. Kaya yan." :)

Rekindling an Old Flame

I will write again, soon - after I am settled snug in a workable academic routine and after achieving a considerably stable momentum.

I hope to allot my me-time writing instead of dillydallying in Facebook.  This is hitting two birds with one stone: writing and improving my writing, as I need to take this skill a notch higher, which means that I need to take legal writing more seriously.

In some days, I might probably spew boredom with a lot of words from outer space.  But in outer space, of course it'll make a lot of sense.  The goal is not to alienate.  The goal is to effectively alienate.

I kid. :)

Oh yeah.

Je veux cette montre.

A Midsummer Memoir

I haven't blogged since forever so to make up for all the lost posts, here's a quick rundown of my whereabouts and whatabouts (whut?) this hot and humid season. My silence may come across as busyness but in actuality, it is all an attempt at productivity which, mind you, isn't at all futile.

To start with, I am almost done with my third book this summer. You read that right: third, baby! And that's excluding the Hunger Games trilogy which I finished in like 2 days during the holy week. Guilty pleasure.

Currently reading this very, very dangerous book *wink*

I met up with high school buds Anjela and Jackie (who will soon be a Mrs come July!).  We were discussing marriage and home-building at dinner (I couldn't believe my ears!).  The last time I checked, we were just kids who thought marriage was a thing of the far future - the very faaaaaar future. That night made me realize I have been teleported to that "very far" future. 

We went to Jackie's and her fiance's humble abode, which was still under construction.  Man, the adult bug just totally hit me. And while we were touring their house, something caught our fancy: a go-kart we were too eager to drive! Good thing their subdivision's still a bit unoccupied since the roar of the engine could definitely disturb the snoozing majority at that wee hour.

I'm happy to say that I finally found my way back to the water this summer. In case you don't know, the only sport that's close to my heart is swimming, so I always look forward to some splash. I didn't get to surf though since the closest I got to the beach this summer is at a viewing deck. Heck it was nighttime so I didn't even get to see the glorious sun hovering above the waves of the sea. Plus, there are no giant waves here on our side of the planet.  Baler, which happens to be a must-go-and-see place in my list for some real surfing experience, is approximately a few hundred kilometers away from Bacolod. So, surfing's prolly not gonna happen this summer. Bummer. 

My cousin & yours truly with the stick-til-your-eyes-pop goggles

my dearest kafatid

my parents bringing cheese to the pool, yo. 

I also got to dance under the rain! I had been meaning to since the rain started pouring early this May but I couldn't bring myself to enjoy the downpour by my lonesome. Buti na lang umuwi ako sa lola ko! My cousin (Alexs) and I enjoyed nature's very own shower albeit we wished it got even stronger. I secretly wished the thunder roared louder and the lightning displayed its beauty while I reveled in the tears of heaven :) Aaaaaah, sweet life. 

And I finally got to meet this little cutie (who's my cousin's baby):

And I guess the highlight of this vacay so far is experiencing farm life at its finest. It deserves a separate entry and I just might have to do that but I'm too eager to compress everything here that I'll post snippets of our little country road adventure.

"Ang Manggahan ni Juan"

My mom workin' the coconut!

Literally, chicken feed.

My dad deep in the jungle...or rather, the backyard. 

Saccharum Officinarum a.k.a "tubo"

A rather innovative way to play during my dad's childhood days :)

a la Secret Garden

a local delicacy we call "bukayo"

It's more fun in the river!

throwing pebbles 

By the river Piedra (erm, Caduha-an), I sat down and ate

the best puto-cheese ever

That's all for now folks! I still have two weeks left before I fly back to Manila. I'm going to visit my sister in Iloilo  this week, spend quality time with the fam, finish reading all my books, reconnect with old friends and keep in touch with the church family I miss! :) 

Making the most of vacay and gearing up for the next adventure that is another school year,

Aiken with  lots of love from Negros

THIS

Spellbound

There are those that bore me, those that appeal for a little while, and those I am forced to swallow – like a daily dose of vitamin C.  But there are those that beguile effortlessly I lose myself in them.

The dilemma when I start reading a book that enthralls me is that I pay more than enough homage to it.  I get detached to reality that I force myself to make a mental note that it’s all fiction and a figment of another man’s imagination.   The characters don’t exist despite the longing that they do.  Some characters are as real as you want them to be, but there are those that you know are also the writer’s depiction of what she could only hope for. So I attribute the blame to the author – how she can create and frustrate at the same time, how much she builds up a character only to afflict the reader with its nonexistence.  Well, there could be some truth to its existence.  But only in another world that only the mind can contain – nowhere else.

I’ve had those moments of fascination when I find myself too engrossed to drop the book, too wrapped up to acknowledge my hunger but sentient enough of a looming headache I still reach out for the anti-radiation glasses when in front of my laptop, gulp a glass of water and munch on some bread.  I could trick my brain so easily when I’m in this state. 

It has been a while since I’ve actually gorged on plots and storylines, aware of my own feebleness to disengage and the penchant to drift off.  At some point, I thought I totally lost interest – that I’d never lose myself in any story again.  But I’m awfully good at second-guessing myself. 

The holy week has left me enough time to fritter away, left in the solitude of my dorm room.  The halls are dissonantly still and unforgiving with their constant reminder of this seclusion.  The rooms are almost empty save for some lit ones.  Almost all of the residents went home to their families leaving less than a quarter of us to ourselves.  And with a place to myself, there is further melancholy. But with this unwarranted privacy, my roommate left me with something to keep sane – or so she thought. 

She left me with a copy of The Hunger Games.  It was a split second decision to read it because I was too keen to find out what happened in the next two books. Watching the movie left me in a cliffhanger just when I’m too eager to move forward.  Not until you read the first installment. I can remember her eagerness and how much she’s exerted the effort to convince me I must set off at the inception as you would any other story. 

And so I did if only to comply with the minimum requirement of giving the book some justice.  And happy I did.  As always, the text was a far cry to the movie.  But I must remind myself that motion pictures can only do so much when it comes to accommodating every detail, every character and element.  I have them to thank for enhancing the mental images of the scenes and the settings of the account.

I couldn’t help my frustration, though.  They cut off a lot – and I mean a lot lot. No matter, my mind worked better envisioning, bringing the characters to life until I reach the end when I had to contend with the fact that they’re a fabrication with a thesis so close to reality and a post-apocalyptic setting that’s so far off.

I remind myself that, after failing to stop the tears from flowing.  The author worked wonders in reaching my heart – my heart that was once always enclosed with fences and walls.  I melted because I felt for Katniss when she achingly realized memories are somewhat an infinite container of love that when broken may be irreparable.  I hated the fact that she flipflopped on every emotion – no, that she wouldn’t admit to herself that she loved and that she had to choose.  I crumbled in the last page when it took her so long to give full access to her heart.  I crumbled because I liked Peeta.  I love his character so much I almost wish he was real. 

But I snap back to reality and he’s not.  He’s just a figment of Collins’ brilliant imagination – too good to be true.  But deep down, there’s this indubitable hope – almost ludicrous – that such a character exists, or fractions of him at least. 

I finished all three books in two days, only occasionally interrupted by a friend for dinner before I lunge back in my head.  I finish the trilogy with half a heart in admission that I am a hopeless romantic – that no matter how I puke at the very idea, I am and I’m as normal as any woman who finds the thought of security comforting, of love promising and the possibility of loss maddening.

I relate to the characters – of who I am, how much of them I am, and how much of them are the people around me.  As I detach myself gradually, I realize that this medium of writing has a magical touch to it, that in some part of the globe, there are those that feel like you and me.  I remember my frustration in travelling, or the lack thereof, and the consciousness of my limited worldview and that in travelling I know I could expand it to unthinkable lengths. 

But there is a cheaper alternative and an efficient one at that.  It’s not the interaction those social networking sites usher in. Nor is it the enforced commerce of the television.  It’s one begotten by words, how they expand one’s vision so simply even when it’s all in your head.   You can curl up under the oak tree or in a corner of your bed and find yourself some place else, your perspective of the world expanding word by word and page by page.   

I was reading Jane Eyre before I had Collins prescribed as a breather.  It was a good imposition though.   Even in classics, I find myself – in bits and pieces, sometimes in a lump.  They’re fiction and I keep reminding myself that – but when I cross the threshold, I let the current take me and allow myself the deluge.  But I’m careful to reach the surface and breathe in for some air.

All it took me was two days, three maybe, to infuse contemplation and regain equilibrium.  Of course, there’s more to this entry than just the beauty of literature.  It digs deep.  I find myself when I linger, afforded retreat, with a medium to sketch an identity. I come full circle, traversing a wider circle each time. #

I'm on a mission

After months of turning a blind eye to the reality that is my weight, I am finally admitting my guilt. I’ve probably snubbed it because I was enjoying myself too much carbo-loading and indulging my cravings.  No, I am not fat. I just gained.  Well, I was a happy gainer.  For once, I went home sans any parental sermon of how sickly I look.  I WAS happy until I found it quite a challenge fitting into my jeans – my jeans that normally and perfectly fit.  I thought my tees were shrinking and started blaming it on the fabric.  But they couldn’t all be shrinking at the same time, could they? And my arms looked twice their normal size in a picture.  My tummy began to form flaaaaabs. Noooooo.

That’s when it hit me. Growth, at this point, would be all horizontal for me.  I didn’t want to look like a cute little orb bouncing her way into the world (pun intended).  That was when I had to move on from the stage of denial and face this brutal fact of my life.  :)

But dieting was clearly out of the question.  I never really got into it – closest I did was pre-prom which was a total failure.  I ended up eating Jollibee burger yum after every school day instead.  Heck, I even chomped on pizza moments before putting on my prom dress.  That was how secure I was. Naks.

Actually, I do not know how to diet properly and I don’t think I need to. I was too secure with the fact that I never really ballooned in my entire life.  Sure I gain, but I also lose weight fast – as in furious fast. Give me a few days and I’d be back to normal. But apparently, a woman’s metabolism changes through the ages.  But, you’re too smart NOT to know that, Aiken! Well, sorry to disappoint.  I banked on this psychological backbone and convinced my brain I’d never really have a problem changing wardrobe sizes – at least not until I was thirty-something.  Well it proved effective – until now.

It started towards the last quarter of the year.  It was finals season and I was stocking up on all the edibles.  It' okay to do that, but it’s not okay when you’re eating and not moving.  The holidays came and my parents were glad to see me looking healthier than ever. Come January, a lot of people commented on my weight.  My, look at you! *Sabay squeeze sa arms* (Well thank you very much for rubbing that in.  Nagkasakit na ako sa lagay na ‘yan, ha.)

Normally, those punches would’ve set off an alarm. But fortunately for me, I was the girl who could not be moved. I refused to yield to the pressure! It was crazy. I was never an advocate of dieting, never a stickler for a nutritional regimen, and I never cut off on eating – ever! I love food! Those who often eat with me know this.  I love food and I find delight in eating good food. Now if you’re my crush, you’d probably find this odd. But of course darling, my tummy was probably filled with puke-inducing butterflies if I (ever) dined with you. Just so you know though, if I had my way, I wouldn’t even hold back.

So, I love food and this fondness was (and is) fueled with stress from law school.  I would crave for the unhealthiest stuff and satisfy this unhealthiness – este, cravings. I recall a week when all I ate were pasta and fries almost every day and cake almost every other day.  Blame the hormones and whatever gastrointestinal shiz there is that’s pushing me to gobble.

What adds salt to the wound is my lack of exercise or any significant physical activity for that matter.  The only “exercise” I do is walking from the dorm to the college and back.  That’s it.  Most of my time is spent sitting down or sprawling in my bed reading and writing, reading and writing. Welcome to law school.


So what brought about this sudden change of heart?

I still love food. I thank God I do.  And I don’t think I’d stop loving it soon.  But I hate it that I couldn’t wear the clothes I want and that would normally complement my frame just because I feel so discomfited.  The thought of having to spend unnecessarily just to change my wardrobe is a joke.  The fact that I’d run out of breath after just a few minutes of fast-paced walking is a jab at my ego.

Aaaah, yun pala yun eh. Egoooo. Pffft.

Well, not really but it was major epiphany for me right there. I was fit before. I had muscles. I jogged and swam without getting dizzy. I didn’t wheeze like some puny loser after a kilometer sprint.  I was fit, then. What happened to all the fitness? Apparently, it’s no eternal magical state. It takes effort to sustain.

And though sustenance is really not a major goal right now, at least I have mustered enough guilt to get my body back in shape.  Let’s get sexy – este, lean- back. Harhar.

So to jumpstart this endeavor, I started cutting on the big meals and started eating smaller meals more frequently.  And I hit the Orbit Track! With no warm-up! *major slap on forehead*

My roommate told me that 15 minutes of exercise would already leave me sweating mad. I brushed it off and thought it was too short a time for exercise.  I’d probably do 30. Major NAAAAAKS!

After what felt like a reasonable stretch working the machine, I checked the time: 2 minutes. 2 freakin’ minutes. Whuuuut.  The clock must be broken. Haha. But it wasn’t and I was just really out of it.  So I extended out of self-shame.

I probably lasted 10 minutes and had to stop because I was feeling lightheaded. So much for not taking my iron.  In a nutshell, if exercise was a measure of wealth, I’d probably be insolvent.

But because I love a good challenge, I will mount that thing again tomorrow, and definitely do better than 10 minutes. 11 perhaps. :)

And…there goes my mission.

Gotta bring leeeaaaan back.

My Summer Bucket List

No, I’m not ditching the road map. This summer is gonna be armed and dangerous with a zest to make things happen.  Naks.

Mark those words and foil any haggling.

Spontaneity does not depart my vocabulary.  But I’m not one to skimp on planning either.  And it gets frustrating to a point of resignation whenever I extremely deviate (i.e., not even starting or attempting to start at least ¼ of the list).  And what tops the frustration is when all those brilliant plans go to the backburner – or worse, the dust bin – because of languor (i.e., the disillusionment brought by the second-rate satisfaction of the couch).  Suddenly, it’s more convenient to just lie around the living room and loaf in front of the TV watching DVDs and munching on junk.

Here’s the problem with settling: you eventually regret it because you know that there was something better within your reach (may not be of comfortable distance, but still within).  You look back, heave a heavy sigh and mutter those words of absolute dread, “What a waste!”

So you know where this is heading and it’s heading somewhere.

Borrowing some immortal lines from CS Lewis, “Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is.” I know it’s toooooo tempting to just do nothing whole summer, but hopefully the murk of possible regret will weigh more heavily.

So here’s my bucketful:

1) Learn to ride the bike. Because I can.  Angas much? Yeah, well, to make up for the sad reality that she doesn’t know how to work the gear at 24. Haha.
2) Travel. I don’t care where – well, actually I do – but just lead me some place where I can step back and see life in another perspective.
3) Intern at some law firm (that is, if my schedule permits)
4) Cook.  Or learn how to cook. I started last Christmas and it was a pretty good start – what with a teacher like grandma. :)
5) Surf. This is not top priority. I just recently took an interest when my roommate, who’s not exactly a swimmer, recently learned how to surf.  I mistook this sport as one too tough, but apparently it is pretty learnable.
6) Preach. This one’s easy not because it’s literally easy but because it’s a delight I don’t even have to compel myself to do it. But, it only happens upon invitation.  So God-willing, He’ll let me :)
7) And of course – tandararan! – review Obligations and Contracts. I know what you’re thinking and keep it to yourself! But believe me, this is sanity. I figured I won’t have the luxury to study this foundational prereq of all civil law prereq just months before I take the bar.  And I haven’t exactly taken this course seriously in class so I have to make up for it by self-study.  Plus, as mentioned, it’s a prerequisite to almost all the classes I’m taking next semester. I have to at least exert the extra effort. :)

That’s it. The list’s pretty reasonable, toned down and feasible by common standards. I don’t have any excuse to not achieve at least one.

And a serious tip to the unwary: Don’t be fooled by the equation of rest equals not-doing-anything.  It’s all in the mind.  I have been there- the doing nothing yet feeling more exhausted than ever phase.  So I have integrity to tell you that rest is not exactly tantamount to doing nothing. That’s procrastination and it’s taxing.  One can rest while being busy with stuff that relaxes her mind, calms her heart and makes her happier than normal.

Yeah, trust the expert. Ha-ha.

I'll stop the world and melt with you

Or rather, think it through.

It’s almost the end of the month and the academic year is fast coming to a close but it seems I’ve been hit by the soul-searching bug at such an inopportune time.  My thoughts are running wild and I am almost besieged by all sorts of pressure and the strain of school. I want to scamper away, tempted to put everything on hold and just go out there.  But it ain’t gonna happen.  This month has been mad.  Some of the year’s highlights already transpired this February – the UP Fair, this year’s first Women’s Encounter (the best so far!), birthdays, Citipointe live in church, and lots of other awesomesauce.  It has been mad with responsibilities and opportunities.  Now that I’ve occasion to step back and reflect, I find myself at a standstill while the world is spinning at a relatively faster pace than when I was younger.    Is it the hormones? Is it just the time of the month? Or will this mental and emotional skirmish of trying to figure out what I want (aside from becoming a pastor) last for the rest of my law school life?

Three nights ago I thought I went mental.  I was forcing myself to study while in tears.  I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t absorb anything.  I was a wreck who just wanted to know what she wants to do in life so she could move on and do that. (Or who just had too much dose of the Encounter breakthrough that she would rather just hold encounters every week from that time on). Escaping would be the most comfortable thing to do but in times like these, I’d be the masochist.  So I did the most sensible thing that night: I prayed.  And asked God that if I couldn’t be uprooted from the situation I was in, at least I be given the courage, the calm and the will to fight. And because prayers are miraculous to those who dare, I was answered.  I suddenly felt overwhelming peace and found myself in the zone.  It was supernatural.

I woke up, went to class and experienced little miracles. I concluded I still had it in me to carry on. Maybe, just maybe, I'm still made for this. :)

A Prelude to the Quarterlife

Two days to go.  On Wednesday, I’d be double the age I look.

Okay, that was an overstatement and only because I’ve been getting more than the usual scoop of remarks about how young I look.  The obvious response would be to take it as a compliment.  Thing is, amongst friends my height, I’m a case in isolation. But to my solace, they’d attribute it to good genes. And I buy that for peace of mind. Haha.

Twenty-three had been conceivable but twenty-four feels like a spring to my years – like I’m about to cross some border.  Of course, age remains to be a concept which is why the very title of this entry contradicts my belief.  But you know, it occasionally gives you a tug at life’s movement and a cue to step forward.

Today, I’m exactly where I visualized myself to be almost a decade ago – a bit off schedule but within approximation.   Not that I’m still following the schedule.  All the blind curves and prolonged pit stops rescued me from a life that would have been less than the best.  I would say that those deviations were divinely orchestrated – even the letdowns and setbacks.  Things would’ve been terribly different had I settled with my own blueprint and only listened to my own voice.

What would have I accomplished a quarter-of-a-century old? I would be in South Africa doing volunteer work for the UN since Beyond Borders moved me that much.  I would have fallen for some guy I’d mistake for John Cusack’s character in Serendipity.  I would be a happy stressed “public servant” who’d earn the ire of politicians ‘coz she’s too ridiculous to think she’d make a difference.  I’d be working in the DFA as if I remember anything from all my foreign language classes.  Heck, I’d probably even do a Liza Macuja. Well, maybe that’s stretching it a bit.  But no matter how silly or altruistic my intentions were, they’d fail the test of purpose.  Needless to say, I’m nowhere near any of the above. 

And thank heavens.  Almost a quarter into this life (that’s assuming I reach a hundred), I am winning souls and making disciples. Ain’t life grand?

Judicial Hanky Panky

The day of reckoning draws near and from the sidelines, the likes of us can’t help but shout our own boos and cheers.  In anticipation of the spectacle that is the impeachment trial, I thought I’d contribute to the pool of critiques and commentaries before the tide goes any higher.

 (photo taken here)

I was originally going for Corona-ng Tinik but thought it might be a little too impolite to the judiciary (plus, I think it sounds too familiar); after all, the Chief Justice was quoted attributing this whole impeachment hullaballoo  not only as his personal battle but officially, of the whole judiciary as well.  I am wowed at the idea of such counter-strategy. But that particular statement topped my irk-o-meter.

I’m no legal expert and bereft of any bragging rights but in my 2 years of law school training, never have I come across a doctrine equating the Chief Justice to the whole judiciary.  Not one of my professors ever advanced such view.  It’s defensible to ascribe an attack on a justice as an attack on the integrity of the Supreme Court.  But to the whole judiciary? I think that sort of thinking may find good ground in Mt. Olympus. 

Recall the whole Garci fiasco that marred GMA’s repute.  The Chief Executive reaped discredit for that, but the whole Executive branch couldn’t be slammed altogether.  To some extent, they gained from her stay in power through their appointments. But the character of each appointee cannot be undermined because of GMA’s suspect moral fiber. 

Similarly, misleading is the conclusion that to hold a Chief Justice accountable is in effect, to undermine the Judiciary.  In fact, the very process of impeachment operates to filter the institution. For heaven’s sake, the Chief Justice is not the Judiciary. No one died and made gods of mere mortals.

In spite of this, I am a student of law and I am mandated to respect the final arbiter of what would eventually and probably be the cases I would handle.  I am also necessitated to respect the authority afforded to the highest court.  While I’m clearly no fan of the Chief Justice, I respect the authority of his office.  But, what becomes of an authority vested without merit? Are we bound to revere it just because? Or does this afford us enough justification to pay no heed to such supremacy? I say we must regard it, but like many exceptions to the rule, we are not proscribed to question it. 

The creature that is the separation of powers paves for the system of checks-and-balances in the government and dismisses any claim to primus inter pares among any of the branches.  For this matter, no one can call dibs on Duke-ship in the governmental peerage.  It’s like the Presidency, the Legislature, and the Supreme Court are the dukes and duchesses; the executive departments and appellate courts the marquis; the bureaus, LGUs and trial courts the earl, viscounts and barons.  Such is the hierarchy of government. But hegemony is clearly out of the question.  

What I am trying to drive at is that no one – not the President, not the Senators, and apparently, not the Chief Justice – is spared from being held accountable. I understand how the whole impeachment process stinks.  It’s like a skunk that expels unwelcome political stench.  Though not primarily meant to besmirch, it still sends off a signal that could damage one’s repute or political ambition. Through the lens of objectivity, it is a course of action to uncover the “truth”.  But of course, it is more than just that.  It is a game of numbers. And power and the desire to stay in power. 

As a side comment, permit me to express my amusement to President Aquino’s youngest sister.

The news of impeachment may have caught the public off guard, but it is no big surprise really, considering the budding political skirmish between the Executive and the bulk of the Supreme Court.  It’s no hush-hush that the present administration is hell-bent on countermanding the anomalies of its predecessor.  But of course PNoy kept mum about it, as should be expected.  But I think he should reconsider. If I were PNoy, I’d free myself of the formality of pretense. It’s pretty useless since his sister’s not shutting her  mouth and by the looks of it, not anytime soon. 

(photo taken here)

I was reading our school’s paper when my eye caught sight of this little comment right side of the Editorial page.  To wit:

“I really have to choose? Okay. Si Senator Miriam [Defensor-Santiago], kasi kailangan naming ng boto niya sa impeachment [ni Supreme Court Chief Justice Renato Corona].”

In fairness to Kris, her brand of transparency is what our “public servants” probably lack. Maybe she should be spokesperson. :)

I Pledge to Read

...and make up for all those years I preferred sitting in front of the idiot box than devouring the classics.  Occasionally chancing upon lists and lists of timeless manuscripts and even noteworthy contemporaries gave me a sinking feeling of failing one’s own belief.  Here I was thinking how avid a reader I am until slapped with an eternal list of books I should have read all the summers of my childhood. I don’t regret spending nights playing SuperMario or tree-climbing with my cousins or flying kites in the open fields of Cadiz.  The only regret I now have of my childhood is reading less than what I should have with all those free time. It was pretty delusional to believe and equate the love of reading to a zeal for it.

It’s such a shame and a pity likened to one who adores Audrey Hepburn but hasn’t paid enough homage to watching any of her films the fact that I haven’t read Charles Dickens yet.  To prove how off tangent I was, I bought a copy of Frankenstein at a book sale with such geek vogue. But to date the paperback’s still lounging inside my suitcase since almost half a decade ago.  Mary Shelley would have zombied on me at such a callous act of devaluation, though honestly, honestly not in bad faith.

So I pledge to read though most unfortunately at such a time when the demands of law school would not indulge me.  But as they say, if there’s a will, there’s a way. And summer. And the perennial holidays and semestral breaks.

So I pledge to read more and devour as much knowledge and wisdom as I can.  And I intend to make each reading activity an optimal learning experience.


So help me God. #