I Am Unusually Happy

I feel bitchy for virtually stalking.

But the brighter side of it is that I found my self unusually happy, almost perpetually. I have been battling stress unsuccessfully for the past few days and I feel so relieved that tomorrow will be the proclamation of the president-elect. Not that I am a fan Noynoy, because I definitely am not, but because it meant a day off from school.

Despite the fact that I’ve been pushed beyond my stress limits, I have become exceptionally active and happy tonight. Thanks to my music playlist that inspired me to fall in love, also virtually. Yes, it’s not the love that everyone would normally suspect — but the kind that is induced by happy, love songs. Think of the word “contagious”. That should be the operative term.

So there, I have justified the series of status updates I’ve been making within the night, which I really feel guilty for –and, which, nonetheless, I felt short of doing. So maybe I have declared the rest of the supposed updates here.

I am thinking of sending a preemptive letter of gratitude for my senior and manager. And of course, all the glory and thanks to the Almighty. 

_____________________

Now playing: “I CAN FEEL A HOT ONE” by Manchester Orchestra.

I don’t want to inquire on its meaning, although it seems to point at a tragedy. No matter how tragic it may be, I feel good about it. I feel love and sincerity in it. Reminds me of the Salvatore brothers. Where art thou, Stefan and Damon?

I haven't had the change of mind yet. I'd offer both sides of my neck if it were for the Salvatore brothers.

I Don’t Love You

It is a song by My Chemical Romance. And I’m listening, even singing along.

“When you go would you even turn to say, ‘I don’t love you like I did yesterday.'”

Today I am braving to listen to “Every Little Thing” by Dishwalla.

________________________

Yesterday *he made an attempt to reconnect. A futile one like the other day. Lucky for me, the FB chatbox is not cooperative in FGU as I was in the shower when he buzzed me last time. His messages kept popping up. That’s how busted the chat function is at my end.

So, that reminds me of his last few texts a month ago or so, when we were like more than a quarter apart already. He was telling me how unhappy he has become, emphasizing how great things were when we were still together. He also seemingly tried to make his perception of me being strong as an excuse for his actions. That I am responsible and wise enough to handle anything. And he’s right, except from the fact that how I am handling this now was the least he expected.

Listening to Dishwalla now makes me teary-eyed. Reminds me of a feeling that seemed so perfect. Reminds me of a card which I can’t remember when (since there were a number of them), where he quoted the song, “Wish I could be every little thing you want.” I still have those cards in my keeping and I don’t want to be reminded further. They might stir my compassion, if any. And now I quote, like I always quoted, “Would you find out who you are too late to change?”

Just a few hours ago, I had this rare opportunity to talk with his closest friend when the latter called me up for some other purpose. He was eventually brought up in the conversation as he has something to do with our serious subject. Hard as I may to avoid him being the subject this time, I simply said, “He’s never going to change.” I couldn’t remember how many times I said that, and those were the only things I said and all I could say about him.

Oh… He’s so yesterday. I am so determined to find my own future.

_______________________

Then playing… “You are my sweetest downfall…”

_______________________

Then… “Halo”. So in love again with no one. I am so inspired. I just feel I will really find a better future.

_______________________
*B

Dark and Bright

Because it was a holy day in Ateneo last Tuesday, I took the liberty to go home so I could take Paula to her second day of school. It was pictorial day, so the pre-schoolers were required to be in proper uniform. She had class the previous day in casual attire as wearing school uniform is normally waived for the first few days of school.

She was excited. Her Ate (yaya) told me that they had writing exercises that Monday and she was second to finish the exercise. Impressive for a starter, right? Because writing is her weakness, and counting, too. I have so long attempted to teach her how to draw basic lines and shapes, and count from one to ten, but to no avail. Now she will be totally forced to do the writing and the counting.

Studying is not a typical activity for a child her age. She likes to shop for books but she doesn’t really scan them for intellectual purposes. Not that she can’t read, but she isn’t really appreciative of drawings. Maybe she’s just shopaholic as I call her. I can’t even think of anything that really interests her, except shopping, of course. I’ve had my nephew, a toddler then, growing up with me and he was always stimulated by the images of animals and trains. It took me less than five minutes to teach him how to identify colors, like I have never did to my child. Paula has never learned the names of her colors until today. But at least she knows which colors are the same and one. She knows that blue, yellow, green and red are colors, but she doesn’t know which is which. Oh, and she can’t even say her name and her age correctly, at her age of three.

She doesn’t like anything that I try to teach her. What she likes most are things that most adults are able to do. She would intentionally ask me or one of her kuyas (my brother) to do and undo one thing while she observes, then would finally remark, “Ah! Ganun pala ‘yun!” And she then performs that thing by herself. She knows how to operate the TV and the DVD, as well as the MacBook. She can even open her Lola’s safe box. She likes complicated things. Five months ago, I bought her a Logico set which she really enjoyed playing with. She can solve problems without supervision even those which I think are beyond her capacity. Counting still remains her weakness, though.

So, going back to the main topic… I took her to the pictorial. After she had her turn, I told her yaya that we should leave the school’s premises as I haven’t had taken anything yet to satisfy my hungry stomach. Paula didn’t want to leave and insisted that the class hasn’t started yet. I did a lot of explaining, telling her that class would resume the following day and that day was alloted only for the pictorial. She was unhappy, so I took her out to the grocery so we can buy cakes and juices for her baon to school. That day ended well, and we slept better after going through more Logico problems.

I will always remember how she would answer me intelligently everytime I tell her something. I once told her that we’re going to the mall “pero hindi ka magtuturo ng laruan.” When we had almost reached our destination, I reminded her  “na walang turo,” that she replied, “Oo, hindi lang turo laruan, kain lang pwede. (Oo, hindi ako magtuturo ng laruan, pagkain lang ang pwedeng ituro).”

That was many months ago. One week before her class, I told her “na ubos na pera ko” after purchasing a pair of Barbie school shoes and another pair of pink gladiator sandals, and other stuffs for school. She simply responded, “Galing ka school Mommy ‘no? Tapos bili mo ako ng shoes, (kasi) dami kang pera. Balik ka na lang ulit school, dami ka ulit pera.” She is now capable of a logical leap*.

*It was ‘logical’ for her, or she believed so, as she associates my coming from school with having money. She also firmly believes that one can simply get money by dropping by an ATM machine. I believe most kids believe so.

On Parenthood — You Never Wake Up Alone

It’s not a big secret that I am a young mother. And that is not even a figurative language to indicate how sensationalized my maternal instincts are and were during my childhood. I had to look after my little brothers at the tender age of 10 as we went through the bumps and bruises of a typical family in the brink of being broken. I was forced to be responsible while young, and it was not even a choice that I could ever refuse. My closest friends would even remark that my life story would pass for an MMK feature. And here I am, honed through years to what should be almost perfection. And yet I feel I am going backwards. It’s a good thing, I tell you.

Today I’m looking forward to taking Paula to school on her second day. My Monday class wouldn’t permit me to be present on her first day. Thanks to St. Thomas Moore, his holiday proved to be a holy day for a single mom like me to fulfill her duties (Oh, never mind the word “single”, we’ll reserve that for future contemplation). My trips from Makati to Laguna and vice versa normally take me two hours one-way. These “two hours” perfectly embody the principle of time being gold, as these should have spared me from additional stress after heavy loads of work and readings, or have enabled me to replenish some of the overworked brain cells through additional hours of sleep, or have substantially reduced my reading assignments. And I did imply that it takes me another two hours to get back to my point of origin. So there we can now ably quantify the opportunity costs of fulfilling a mother’s duty. But I dare to incur such costs, no matter how expensive they may become. See, my maternal instincts are intact.

Parenthood entails so much more than simply providing for your child. I have to adjust my sleeping schedule so I can make “tapik” on her until she finally sleeps. In worse situations, she asks that I sing to her or tell her stories while I’m almost dying to close my eyes. I have to wake up before she does and make sure she never gets soaked on her own pee. She’s growing and it takes a lot of discipline to have her conditioned on the same. I have to teach her a lot of things and that really entails a lot of explaining too. And the more I explain, the more she asks until it gets complicated. More often than not, I have to act less mature so she can relate more. And the more I get to do it, the more I am able to internalize the youth in me — such youth which I deprived my self of when I decided to take seriously the role of being a parent to my four younger brothers. (That was then, I’m relieved now.)

Paula has taught me a lot of things — such things I have never learned to find even in my most intellectual state. I can hardly imagine how a child is able to introduce you to peace and happiness, and a love that is truly worthy of being called unconditional. So that’s why I will never refuse to pay exorbitant opportunity costs. And the things that are most expensive are usually the luxury that most people cannot afford. Well, ideally, everybody can. But not everyone would be immediately willing to take the risk — not at my age, and not in this society.

I am not contemplating on how difficult it is to be a young mother, in a stage where  you are both nourishing a child’s physical and non-physical needs while you struggle to establish your stability at the same time. But it is something that I am determined to accomplish. Paula and I will learn together, grow old and be happy. And one of the luxuries money can’t afford is when you’re down and out, someone will call, “Mommy, gising na, “ after long hours of slumber.

When You Can’t Simply Dance

For the past few weeks, I have not been faithful to either work or study. If there’s googling, there’s youtube-ing. I was not torn in between, though I can be charged with infidelity primarily for the latter.

I am guilty for taking pleasure in watching K-pop and belly dancing.

And I miss Tuding’s — the late-hour food tripping with my little brothers.

Indulgence. Indulge me, please.

So this is stress.

On Grammar and Error

Shet!

That’s how I exclaimed when I backtracked my write-ups! Sorry for the grammatical errors and whatever error you may find. I am simply squeezing in my thoughts between heavy work and study. LOL. I am not perfect, and I don’t aim to be, set aside my perfectionist tendencies. Irony is a figurative language, and so is paradox and oxymoron, so go figure. Go find errors at the expense of your time. And watch out for inconsistencies and simply delight in the fact that you were able to spot them immediately, a lot better than I am. That only means you are brilliant.

Let’s call it a day!

B-I-N-G-O

I hit bingo *today. Not that I made a good recitation because such a conclusion would require a value judgment. So to answer that, no, it’s not a good recitation.

I was, again, first blood, in my class yesterday. And after a long interrogation with my professor, I didn’t seem to think we ended ‘peacefully’. There was no way I could think that he was ever satisfied of my answers, considering the fact that he spent like 10 minutes (that was according to a blockmate’s calculation) of our precious 1-hour class with me. And I was not about to give up, until he gave up on me. Hahaha! And it was not a good thing, I guess. But it was worth it.

And it’s not the bingo part yet. Moving on to our next class, I was duly ‘ordered’ by my groupmates to do the reporting on behalf of our group members for our Philo class. It was something that calls for a more personal note, making us reflect on how we think about the law, why we want to pursue it, what makes it attractive and what is its purpose to us. I delivered a classic line that goes, “Strive not be a success but to be of value”, relating to the purpose of pursuing the law. It is upon recognizing the needs of our society that we felt we can be of value, and that we want to be valuable. That was supposed to be the dramatic part until he injected the “what is value” question, which, btw, is a combined diversionary and delaying tactic, considering the time limit imposed. And the tricky part was the presentation of an object that would represent the group’s idea of law, wherein we decided to introduce the “eagle” as a ‘living’ object. He then emphasized that he wanted us to physically present an eagle, which is apparently impossible in our case. He explained the significance of such presentation, so I simply brought up his concept of “dream-storming” to solve the issue, although it was of no help at all, I presume.

What settled the bingo was my last class for the day, resulting to an all-class recitation. So there, you get it — I recited for all three subjects for that day.

I am not sure if I am feeling more comfortable now but, nevertheless, I’m way up the confidence ladder, just a single step or so. Maybe everybody else will soon get his/her own exposure and find some time to make him/her self more at ease with the block and the professor. Every single day, it feels like we are being culled. And every day we find a hot seat waiting in Room 313. But I hope one day I’d be able to look back and find how hard we tried  and how bad it felt to really get what you want. I really wish it will come to an end — and a happy ending at that — so we can tap each other’s shoulder and say, “It was worth all the pain.” I’m looking forward to that day. I’m not yet done with you, law school.

And a bingo should have its much-awaited prize, although it’s in no way related to the same game I was talking about. While others are speaking of how they de-stress through wining, I beg to be different by simply dining. I think I can never learn how to drink, no matter how law school sucks. Good job to anyone who can make me.

 

 

 

A festive treat in McKinley was sure to end the day right, and tight to the stomach.

 

_________________________

*Practically, ‘yesterday’, but that day didn’t just ended for me. The day ends when I finally sleep.

And dang! I am confused on how to place the asterisk. Dang, jejemons! They are contagious as virus!

Hello, Diligence

I am making friends with an old acquaintance. Yes, it was merely an acquaintance for I have not really spent significant or even a short,  quality time with my subject. I had known its existence since I was in grade school but I opted to keep close ties with skill and talent. But they, alone, cannot hold me up in achieving a bigger goal. Thus, I need another one to match the growing dream with a bigger circle. Hello, diligence!

No More Hell Week

Oh no, I’m not backing out from school.

It’s simply to reiterate that the concept of “hell week” now applies to every week. And that being repetitive and regular, the term is no longer applicable to special weeks — not special in the positive connotation, but meaning occasional.

I will no longer have the idea of hell week coming at certain intervals. It will be every week, so there will never be a week that can be distinguished from the others as being the worst of all.

Every day is a struggle, and I am saying this not in the sense that we use it as we try to overcome a depression. I am not delivering this line to express my bitterness but to pose this as a challenge. I am not disheartened nor discouraged by that fact. It makes me want to fight more, not fight the struggles that are presumed in my position, but the apprehensions and anxieties I have in the idea. And I have to fight this feeling of pressure and stress without even trying. And even if I try, I have to believe and push to myself that I can do it no matter what.

Take the other night as an example. I’ve had a reading assignment, just one amidst the others that are in a long list, waiting to be attended to. I was totally racking my brains off for hours, analyzing concepts and principles. And being the occasional reader, I have to go back and forth and back to put the ideas together. It’s like putting the broken pieces of a fragile vase together, which requires careful attention if you intend not to break it again. Reading for hours may cause one to engage in passive reading. You go through the lines and simply loose the idea and the spirit of the words. And that only meant a waste of time, because I have to go through them over again. And extending more hours only  results in diminishing marginal productivity. (I am an economist in principle because I know my math, econometrics and their application, but not at heart because I am devoid of its logic.) But I battled every minute of it to make it to the last page. The good news is, I was prepared for the recitation. But my misfortune is, my professor didn’t call me.

Anyways, the net effect is positive, I have accomplished the required readings. I just hope that I have fully absorbed it, so come examination, reviewing would be less daunting.

When the purpose of highlighting is defeated.

 

I may be a fool to waste my golden time on this self-indulging writing. But I have come to realize that letting my heart out is helping me in so many ways. For one, I get to keep my brains active while I literally feed my stomach, which for some reason makes everyone call for bed right after. Second, I am able to put things into perspective and encourage my own self to take things seriously as I try to look into the brighter side of things. And finally, inter alia, it keeps me sane in this mentally challenging world.

Oh, btw, just a funny thought. I have observed that as I go further through my textbooks, I get to mark more and more lines with the highlighter. It’s like I’m leaving too little space for the less important lines. So why can’t I just highlight everything? LOL.

 

 

Oops. I remember, I have an ongoing battle.

I Hereby Adhere to the 10,000-Hour Rule

I am minutes away from sleep. Please, not an hour or so. I really hope, just in minutes. I am overworked and all. Thus, shorter sentences.

And I couldn’t leave without pressing — wordpressing at that. I do not want to forget a promise I have recently made to myself, and I am making it official.

I am not an avid reader of any kind, I have mentioned that a million times. And no matter how many gazillions I may want to mention that, it will remain an understatement.

I have, so many times, almost felt crying to the words of my professors as they try to explain to us what it is to be a lawyer. I am an idealistic person and their often too genuine definition is only but a confirmation of what I’ve always felt about lawyering. And I am not claiming that I know everything about it. As I discover every piece of the big puzzle, I can then suddenly build the image that I want to create for myself. Having worked out that this is the impossible dream, I have recognized the need to adhere to the 10,000-hour rule to achieve success. That’s Malcolm Gladwell’s, taken from the Beatles and Bill Gates, among others. So today I battled 2 1/2 hours, short hours of pure study. Not bad for a starter, eh?

First Blood*

Between the time we took our seat after saying our prayers and the moment I stood up, I was diligently conducting intimate conversations with the Almighty. Thus, “Lord, sana matawag ako sa case na alam ko.” And in between, I was concentrating and conditioning myself for a possibly shameful act.

I felt it coming. When my attention was called, I knew it was what my friend calls now “First Blood.” Not really my first bloodshed, not only mine. For it was the first baptism to which other baptisms would follow, but a bloody baptism at that. “This is law school,” I reminded myself, then proceeded  with the case I was called to recite — “In Re Cunanan”. To trigger the processing of my poor memory, I began by describing the law involved in the case, which was the center of the dispute. “It was about the Bar Flunkers Act of 1953, ” I uttered finally. My professor didn’t really say anything, didn’t raise a particular question. He simply stated the title of the case so I went on discussing the facts, the issue and the held/ratio. Then words just kept flowing before I knew it.

A long pause after my very last word. Then someone else was called, and unfortunately interrogated. “What power are we talking about?” Although I did mention in the decision that “there was a manifest encroachment of the judicial power of the Supreme Court,” which is something I got from the digest. I didn’t sit down until he asked me to, before the second blood spilled.

I was shocked for a moment and contemplated, I felt I was short of my answers although it did feel like forever. My seatmate was congratulating me in my absent state of mind. I was still contemplating. It was only minutes ago that a blockmate pondered on how demeaning it would be for the batch if the first attempt would fail. And there I found myself with mixed emotions — bothered and relieved at the same time. Relieved that I came up with something, bothered if that was really “something”. I was the very first — and it was the kick off recitation to the whole batch and the years to follow. What a way to begin.

It could be luck that somehow I read the case and knew about it. It was luck considering the fact that I only survived the 15% of the overall reading assignment. Who could expect that I’d compete for a 150+ case marathon and reach the finish line on time? I couldn’t tell until now what he thinks of my answer. All I know is, I was the only one who was not interrogated maybe because I was the first blood.

So that was Tuesday. And three days after, it was still fresh on my mind. I took the exam with less than 50% of the required reading done. Open notes but the papers were of little help. And I survived.

I couldn’t imagine how much stress is there for me to cope up with in the next few weeks. This first week has been hell to me and the next to come seem more promising. It was really heavy load, but I was lazy too. I miss the feel of my bed and my blanket, and of course, Paula. And the thought of her fuels my determination. I am resolute. I will bring home to her what I promised. And I will prove that she’s not crying in vain for my absence.

This is not only my bloodshed. It’s hers, too.

*Is a term more often used in DOTA, according to my brod. Thanks, Les, for the wonderful term albeit the brutal context.

The Confessional

Because I am trying hard to balance work and school, I have decided I needed some inspiration. And there’s only Dashboard Confessional to keep me company. And though the idea of not being able to attend their recent concert in Manila punishes me, it doesn’t keep me from patronizing the band’s artistry and lyrical genius.

I'd kill for someone who can sing and write like him. I've never known anyone who can equal the genuine and sincere emotions of his music.

Random lines from Christopher Carraba:

But I’m dying to live.

Take notice, take interest, take me with you.

We are, we are intriguing. We are, we are desirable.

But all our fears fall on deaf ears.

It’s better to hold you and keep you pacified.

Won’t you hold me now? I will not bend, I will not break.

Maybe it’s love but it’s like you say, “Love is like a role that we play.”

But I believe in you so much, I could die from the words that you say.

Just found the pieces but they fit like they weren’t made for it.

My hopes are so high that your kiss would kill me. So won’t you kill me so I die happy?

So much for all the promises you made, they served you well. Now you’re gone and you’re wasted on me.

Color the coast with your smile, it’s the most genuine thing I’ve ever seen.

I think tonight I’ll take the long way.

Always assuming the worst but you’re going on nonetheless, and there’s nothing to cushion your heart led fall. Letters from further away keep pulling me close to home. And there’s something to cushion my callous sighs. And I know that you hope for longer good-byes embracing for forever and falling in your eyes.

I’m living in your letters. Breathe deeply from this envelope it smells like you and I can’t be without that scent. It’s filling me with all you mean to me.

There is no need to test my heart with useless space. These roads go on forever, there will always be a place  for you in my heart.

We’re not 21, but the sooner we are the sooner the fun. Grow up fast!

It doesn’t make it easier to be away. I’d like to hire a plane. I’d see you in the morning when the day is fresh. I’m coming home again. (These are like words from a soldier who’s sent on a mission.)

The harder I push the further I fall. Well you don’t mind me being headstrong.

Maybe it’s right but I can always, always, always be wrong.

A certain callousness complies in your charm and in your pride, a hopeful look draped in despise. I wanna give you everything you need. What is it you need? Is it what I need? Is it within me?

It seems our day keeps falling on a leap year.

She’s got a history of killing herself and I had a habit of dying. I think she’s given me something to live for… It’s cruel but she’s got a good hold on me.

(Intro music of “Stolen” — that is, if only I can write it. LOL)

And from the ballroom floor we are in celebration. One good stretch before our hibernation. Our dreams assured and we all, will sleep well.

You have stolen my heart.

You are the best one of the best ones. We all look like we feel.

If it is born in flames then we should let it burn, burn as brightly as we can. And if it’s gotta end, then let it end in flames.
Let it burn all the way down.

If this is ever meant to end, then I hope it ends where it began.

The road is now a sudden sea, and suddenly you’re deep enough to lay your armor down.

The lights will flash and fade away, the days will pass you by. Don’t wait to let your armor down.

And she pulled you in, and she bit your lip, and she made you hers, she looked deep into you as you lay together quiet in the grasp of dusk and summer. But you’ve already lost when you only had barely enough to hang on.

And she made you better than you’d been before.

And you held her looser than you would have if you ever could have known… Some things tie your life together, slender threads and things to treasure. Days like that should last and last and last.

We are still dreamers in our dead sleep, naked and tangled, twisted in love.

Heaven’s not waiting. It’s spilling its secrets. It’s right here between us, and we’ve no other choice but believe.

You are only strong enough to handle what I need.

We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden.

Our act of defiance, we keep this secret in our blood. No paper or letters. We pass just close enough to touch. We love in secret names, we hide within our veins the things that keep us bound to one another.

Your name is pounding through my veins.

Then I’m on my second round of the playlist, beginning with “Stolen”.

Oh, btw, I really like The Swiss Army Romance album. I can almost imagine myself having to battle a long-distance relationship with a soldier, which, btw, is highly improbable. It’s a classic, and I believe it has set the foundations for the mainstream emo music that we know of today. It’s so raw and genuine, almost hurting. When you hear Chris singing and playing the guitar, you will be reminded of Secondhand Serenade. And it’s quite the opposite to me — I remember Chris when I hear Secondhand Serenade so I’m not so impressed with the latter (although I really like “Your Call”, it’s so Dashboard).

Would it be weird to confess that his guitar speaks to me? I don’t know, but I get so emotional whenever I listen to his lead. How come some of his broken chords are not so broken at all? In fact, they are ironically clear as lenses to me. And when he sings, my heart would burst into tears as if they have eyes. LOL. No kidding, they are as real as tangible. And I can almost relate that to my crying over listening to “The Scientist”. (I’ll tell you about that next time.) Cliche and tautological, but Dashboard is the most amazing musician I know.

Dem. I feel so in love with no one.

"Careful now, you're so beautiful when you've convinced yourself no one else is quite as beautiful."