The Homeless Child Has No Lola

I have become a story teller. It’s not a voluntary act or from some deliberate concern but a matter of necessity. Of course I did envision myself as a mother-teacher who would  impart stories of good values as I attempt to inculcate good morals to my child. But I have let go of that idea since I am not a full-time mother and traveling from Laguna to Makati and back everyday has been eating my precious time. It was a sacrifice I had to make — less quality time for Paula but at least seeing her everyday.

But things have changed since I entered law school. I come home only on weekends and spend limited time with her. And since I am always almost at the edge of breaking down due to sleeplessness, I make crazy efforts to put her to an immediate sleep. Thus, the story telling.

My stories have evolved over time. There are crazy ones and those of the impossible which she doesn’t really mind. She likes to ask questions and I give crazy answers. I don’t intend to sound funny, and she doesn’t find them funny either, but I don’t have the intellectual vigor to provide intelligent answers. But surely, there are also cases wherein I am able to provide, if not the best, at least logical and reasonable explanations.

My encouragement for her singing evolved too. I found this song by Carrie Underwood entitled “Temporary Home” which I really like and find the message fit for a growing child, except for the continuous flow of the lyrics which can be a little hard for a 3-year old (She has turned 4 just earlier). So to make the song a little catchy for her, I’ve decided to relate one of the stories behind the lyrics. The song actually tells about the life of three individuals who see some things as temporary in light of a greater plan that must be waiting ahead of them. It tells of hope and dreams. And the first story about the little boy was the one I really feel connected to, although my life was never close to his.

Little boy, 6 years old
A little too used to bein’ alone.
Another new mom and dad, another school,
Another house that’ll never be home.
When people ask him how he likes this place…
He looks up and says, with a smile upon his face,

“This is my temporary home
It’s not where I belong.
Windows and rooms that I’m passin’ through.
This is just a stop, on the way to where I’m going.
I’m not afraid because I know this is my
Temporary Home.”

 

You get the story, right? So I tell her that the little boy’s real mom and dad have left him and that some other couple are about to take care of him. And I remind her how lucky she is that I didn’t leave her just because I love her. She asks so many questions, every “bakit (why)”  there is to ask. So I explain that maybe the kid’s parents do not have the financial capacity to raise the child or they were not ready to accept the responsibility. And another bakit comes in. A lot of bakit, and finally she made a qualification, “Wala ba siyang lola?”

So you get the idea. If the parents left the kid, wouldn’t the lola be taking care of him and not some other people? That made me think of my mother who is taking care of her when I am away. She’s the closest she can think of as a solution to the child’s problem as it is how it goes in her life.

My mother is not perfect, she never really took care of me and my little brothers. But I am amazed how great a job she’s doing for my kid. She brings Paula with her everywhere and she stoops down to Paula’s level with much enthusiasm. That’s even an understatement. Mama is never the emotional, sweet mom. She’s strict and a force to be reckoned with. We always complain about how she makes little things a big hell of a deal. But she transforms into a kid whenever Paula is around. She dances and screams with her.

I did say a few times that I will never be the way my mother was to us. But that story of the homeless child showed me that I cannot match the attention my mother is giving to my child. That little boy had no one else to care for him, but Paula has my mother during my absence. She even sent a bad yaya away for hurting Paula. She is perfectly filling my shoes and is effectively playing the role of the mom that I want to be.

I will be that mom someday, now I tell myself.

I Said No More Coffee But Then I’m A Liar

I need a life extension… Everyday.

You see, 4-6 hours of sleep is torture. It does not only make you less productive, it also adversely affects your brain processing. So when I lack such sleep, I can no longer think rationally as to live up with my promise.

Damn you, insomnia. I should be strictly allotting my extra time to reading. And you are eating my time.

Sweet Thoughts From a Little Boy

I was chatting a while ago with an old friend whom I used to be with in a school play during grade school. I was Mamma Mary and he was my son, Jesus. So you can imagine the age gap. Nonetheless, he’s like three years my junior.

He was asking when am I going back to Cebu and he told me how he frequents Manila to do errands for his dad. So it was a brief hi and hello and some agreement on a potential meet-up.

It was just great that he remembers me all this time. Way back in elementary and high school, we didn’t really hang out that much. He was the type that most girls would have a crush on but hate at the same time, as he was good-looking and often described as ‘mayabang’. I was the proactive school girl who was always  trying to balance acads and extra-curricular activities. I may be a little visible in the school community, but this kid was effortlessly popular. I sometimes wished he was my little brother.

I haven’t seen him since I left highschool except for one encounter in a computer shop. It was brief as well. But he was totally different then. He has matured and has clearly developed some “kapreskuhan” (sorry I don’t know the english translation). Maybe girls were easy for him. But I didn’t pay much attention to his ‘hirit’ then.

So earlier I saw a more matured person in him, and a better one. He is clearly not the boy I met in grade school, nor the boy I stumbled upon during my teens. He made a strong argument which has never crossed my old mind.

Little Boy: So I have a lawyer na when times get rough? Lol.

Me: Definitely, if I make it through the bar.

Little Boy: You will. I know you will.

Me: Hahaha

Little Boy: Yeah. I guess.

Me: Let’s hope.

Little Boy: Hope is for the weak. You don’t need that.

Me: So pray? Hahaha.

Little Boy: You got balls. (and a smiley)

HOPE IS FOR THE WEAK. Interesting… Coming from a young mind.

Now I will remember that all my life. And he believes in me.

——————

Little Boy, in case you come across this page, I don’t intend to make a judgment by calling you such. It’s just that I’m always reminded of you being my child in that play. =)

Holiday Reminiscence

It’s a holiday and I’m sipping coffee while I force a book unto my brain. And because I hesitate to be lonely, my lappy Samson provides me some music background and a few updates of my friends through social networks. While browsing through FB, I came across some old photos of Paula during our holidays off home and was reminded of some of the humors we’ve had encounter.

 

My friend, Je, making fun of the only baby in the group during our Macau trip.

 

She hoped the metallic comb would open the package.

 

She tries to open anything that gets into her hands. I'm not sure if she thought the disposable undie has something edible with it or she simply hates plastic packaging.

 

So here's Ate Je training little Paula how to make "irap".

 

A locale in Macau in amusement. She's not the first victim, though. We've had a number of encounters with strangers asking for photos with her in both HK and Macau.

 

The cheek peace sign.

 

She doesn't like the feel of the sand on her feet. Good thing the puppy has tamed her for a long minute. Taken in one of the beaches in Batangas.

 

Nobody disturbs her when she's concentrating. At least everyone's eyes are on her.

And I was immediately struck of how fast Paula has grown up. She is a school girl now and can easily write her own name although with the letters in random order (She spells her name “Puaul”). These photos were taken when she was only two, and now she’s turning four.

She called me up yesterday, telling me “antagal mo naman” and asking if I have a surprise for her.

I’m just missing my baby. I’m off work-off school without her for the first time. Then I’m off Paula, too, making me offed three times today.

So what do you think about your holiday?

Despicable Mom-ME

des pi ca ble |diˈspikəbəl|

adjective

deserving hatred and contempt : a despicable crime

The youngest person in the household next to Paula is a high school student, a cousin who’s been living with my family since my parents started to support his studies. This leaves Paula the only baby, who’s turning four, the primary source of joy and the leading object of fun. Yes, fun.

I always see to it that I come home for the weekends so I can spend time with her. We go out in the mall, in the park, or just about anywhere we can hang out and pig out. I bring her to work and school whenever possible. When I’m home, she goes with me wherever I go. Based on these, anyone can conclude that I am such a great mother, but in truth I am not. I am no perfect mommy. I am also a kid myself.

So when does being despicable come in?

I bet sending her on errands does not count. She willingly obliges to every order that I make, even it be about asking money from my mother for a movie pass. She also provides for our drinking water during meal time without us having to ask her.

We make fun of her, with my little brothers as my partners in crime — twisting the word ‘baby‘ to ‘baboy‘ when we say “ganda naman ng baboy na yan.” And my brother says ‘bata‘ repetitively to make it sound ‘bata bata bata bata‘, in effect, having ‘taba‘ in between.

We play dead until she cries. Well, that was when she was a lot younger. She now knows when we’re just acting, but still she cannot discern whether something is a truth or a lie. So we make her cry with the stories that we make like one when I made her believe that she has a twin sister, just like my brother, and that I take care of the other baby when I am away from home. She’d cry, unbelieving I could spend more time with the other child.

We feast on her chocolates. She’s so generous she’d offer anything she has and when nothing is left, she just simply says, “hayy… wala na ako.”

I put out the lights when we sleep which scares her like hell until she sleeps from crying. She has some negative vibes with my room that makes her uncomfortable.

We sometimes subject her to some emotional depression when we compare her with other kids just out for some laugh trip. She’s always in the limelight and on the hot seat of ridicule.

We all love her. She brings out the kid in everyone of us. She makes us forget about the seriousness and monotony of adult life. She makes us vibrant and young and happy and beautiful. She causes us to be despicable and admirable at the same time.

I guess she’s too young to take everything seriously. She does not know hatred yet so we’re always on a clean slate whenever the need for another drama pops up. Hate me, if you may, but I don’t want to grow too old for her yet. I want to be as young as possible so she can always relate and is always open. I want such bond to be so strong that age would not pull us apart by the time I am all work and no play.

We are A-Team... Two weeks ago in a theme park.

She takes the steering wheel as we bump and go. As the mother, you are always compelled to be a backseat driver.

 

Whew! Just sharing. I just feel oddly generous today.

Oh Time, Why Fly So Quickly?

A friend often so complains why there are only 24 hours in a day. He argues that if only a day can be 8 hours longer, he’d be able to do accomplish everything that has to be done. I would always answer that he should not blame time but himself for signing up for too much activities.

Now I understand why he is so bitter about it.

I want a few things done — like get a massage, go night swimming, finish all my readings and experience a complete sleep. Just these things. And I feel completely deprived right now.

Count Your Sins

Since there is such a thing as “count your blessings”, I am making a version contrary to it. So here is my count of sins.

Well, this is not really about all sins. I don’t intend to make a controversial private person out of me. I don’t want to be an object of ridicule and criticism, if ever that’s possible for an average person like me. I just want to list down the movies that I am able to squeeze in my hectic schedule. And the list will include old and new movies.

Starting August, here’s what I remember so far, in horizontal enumeration and in no particular order:

1) Step Up 3D; 2) You to me are Everything; 3) The Ghost Writer; 4) The Last Song; 5) The Expendibles; 6) Jack and the Beanstalk; 7) The Runaways; 8.) Inception; 9) The Last Airbender; 10) Tekken

So the list will go on. I will update this list to remind me how I find time to sin in these busy hours.

SEPTEMBER: 1) Letters to Juliet; 2) Everybody’s Fine; 3) Lie to Me S2Ep21; 4) Grown Ups; 5) Despicable Me 3D; 6) Chloe; 7) 12 Angry Men (1957 Classic); 8.) Veronika Decides to Die; 9) The Wolfman; 10) Shelter; 11) Match Point; 12) Resident Evil 3D

Can Chamomile Be

… the CURE?

I remember a promise I have made before I entered law school: I would study harder than I ever did in my entire life. And I did just that. Even though I do not always get to read everything of what is required, still I have surpassed the study time I have spent from nursery to college.

And now school is getting more difficult; and most difficult in this stress-prone times. Ah yes, my insomnia is making things worse for me. I have been cutting some of my classes because I couldn’t fight the urge to continue sleeping.

I cannot depend on sleep supplements because they force me to complete a full cycle of sleep when I can only spend half of that to make time for study. I did buy a few more Sleepasils but they are reserved for the weekend. So I googled and found out that chamomile helps one relax and sleep well. So I’m trying out chamomile tea tonight.

So, could it really put me to sleep and relieve me from stress? I hope so.

Too much stress can really interfere with one’s emotions. In fact, it’s like I’m giving in to someone’s attempt to revive our failed relationship; just because of such impaired sense of reality. Yeah, sometimes a persistent person can squeeze mercy out of you. But no, not today. Maybe chamomile can help too and cleaar my head for tomorrow.

Ah… There is the ringing. Again.

I Want Love

Here’s an old song by a favorite artist.

Sharing the lyrics of Elton John’s song called “I Want Love”….

I WANT LOVE – Elton John

I want love, but it’s impossible
A man like me, so irresponsible
A man like me is dead in places
Other men feel liberated

I can’t love, shot full of holes
Don’t feel nothing, I just feel cold
Don’t feel nothing, just old scars
Toughening up around my heart

But I want love, just a different kind
I want love, won’t break me down
Won’t brick me up, won’t fence me in
I want a love, that don’t mean a thing
That’s the love I want, I want love

I want love on my own terms
After everything I’ve ever learned
Me, I carry too much baggage
Oh man I’ve seen so much traffic

So bring it on, I’ve been bruised
Don’t give me love that’s clean and smooth
I’m ready for the rougher stuff
No sweet romance, I’ve had enough

Big-Time Crammer

It’s not my usual litany of complaints about school. This is about how a crammer who hopes to cope with the demands of law school and eventually faces failure.

Let’s assume our protagonist-antagonist (in Tagalog, bida-contrabida; the likes of Ruby) is a “he”.

Two weeks before the mid-term exams, he searches for all review materials available online. He makes use of his free membership to Scribd, downloads all references uploaded by former students, and prints the covered topics. He goes to school, shares to his friends his materials and photocopies sample examinations that are circulating like porn videos on mobile phones. He selflessly offers to send his materials to his other blockmates via email and does exactly that after leaving school. He goes home and settles, “There are still two weeks to go, I’ll have enough time to study.”

One week before the exam, he feels guilty for not reading any of the materials he has on hand, then later on decides to research more to pay for the guilt. It helps him a little bit, makes him feel less useless. He heads home and feels happy for having gathered such a library of materials.

Two days to go, he suddenly feels sorry that he does not have enough time to read everything and blames himself for adding insult to the injury — more readings to his already-long list.

A day before day 1, he goes out with his siblings and pretends that exam day is not so near. “Besides,” he tells himself, “I’ve been studying ever since.” But he knows it’s never enough, but still he gives in to the urge of a gala.

—-

I can’t continue this anymore. This is so me, giving in to little temptations. I’m switching to Dashboard. Sorry.

Guilty Pleasures I Need, Enumerated

Gone are the usual days of feeling useless and idle. These times we are forced to act beyond our limits, squeeze our endless tasks to fit our busy schedule, and waive the simple pleasures of hello. From diminishing productivity we turn to optimization, but a strange and rare one because the curve should never go down, or else we fall down.

Time now clearly asserts its relativity, defining how time flies so quickly when you go through something that demands you to turn hours into minutes. In college, we read a chapter or two in a week. In law school, it’s not even just doubled in a DAY. Damn, I can’t count them.

We turn hours into minutes when we study. When sleeping, an hour feels like a minute. That is just how the brain is so much overused and abused. We make our brains our slaves as we push them to submit to us.

These are the days when we need to unwind the most because we are forced to the edge but time will not permit it. And the irony of it is that unwinding will only eat our precious time and we realize that the edge is not even here nor near, but still farther.

Let me unwind, I beg of you. But they say an hour or two is counterproductive, I say otherwise. Let me indulge in little guilty pleasures to bribe my retaliating overworked mind. It might commit suicide.

So let me into these:

a blog entry or two;

a sing-along with Beyonce and Mariah and Lady Gaga, too;

Fall Out Boy, too;

and Hailey and Alicia Keys (forget Carrie Underwood);

a romantic movie to inspire my lonely soul;

an hour of Italian language exercise;

a few counts of hip rolling and undulations;

a short dialogue with a far-away friend;

a few exchange of messages with friends and strangers alike;

a sumptuous meal and a happy stomach;

a few FLIPs (full laugh in pain);

some household chores and organizing my closet;

a few pages of a book non-school related;

a handful of cigarette egg rolls;

some googling and youtube-ing;

a hello to Poy and a sound of her voice;

a short prayer to uplift my spirit;

a fulfilling sleep;

and everything in between.

Call them sins and I sinful. Let me be guilty as charged, please.

The Terms in Law School

I’ve learned something from the mid-terms exam… The terms in law school: Either you hit it or miss it.

It’s either you get it or you don’t. And even if you understand a thing, it wouldn’t mean a thing. And even if you fully understand but are unable to put it perfectly, it is still nothing.

There’s no other way about it but to understand perfectly and put perfectly what you learned.

FRUSTRATION!

There are no multiple choices in real law school life. There are but two options: It’s ALL or NOTHING.

The Sweetest Downfall

I have found a new love in Samson. I could never be described as a techie person, until singleness has struck me that I have so evaded the state of being lonely to the point of yielding to technology in desperation. Yes, my months-old laptop has proven to be a great company.

Everyday, I look forward to come home so I can check my mails and update my blog, crimes I cannot and must not commit in the workplace. I also await the moment I can download new movies to add to my must-watch list.

With Samson in one of our excursions in Nuvali.

Regina Spektor’s song speaks of Samson as her sweetest downfall. My Samson is so much the same — a downfall because it can never love you back, and sweet at that because it can never hurt you (although the thought of something not loving you back already hurts).

With Samson with me, I can never be alone. So I am thinking of investing in more tech stuffs in the near future. Lord, I pray, that I am able to keep my job so I can afford more luxuries because Mama and Papa are not sponsoring anything not school-related, not even my allowances. LOL.

The Request

Earlier today, he said he wouldn’t ask for anything but that we be in good terms for the sake of our child.

He made a statement before that, “sana hindi na ako mapahiya.” Well it’s not that I am subjecting him to any form of embarrassment (unless this is it), but that he’s hoping for my approval to such request.

I didn’t know what to say, but I did say something —  that it’s going to be hard since I am still in the process of wanting to be capable of forgiveness.

It’s sad to remember the past especially when it sometimes feels like it was just yesterday. But I did take liberty to ask him what gives him the confidence to ask me when he should also be avoiding me (because, in a way, I abandoned him after our last ‘battle’). It was a short answer, “Nami-miss kita, ‘yun lang ‘yun.”

I gave him not in a short statement but in a shorter spirit, “Makakalimutan mo rin ako.”

The Redemption of A Criminal*

What I need is a good defense ’cause I’m feelin’ like a criminal, and I need to be redeemed to the one I’ve sinned against… – Criminal by Fiona Apple

I couldn’t help but keep on relating what transpired during our most recent class.

My friday class is my most awaited, not that it has anything to do with our subjects for that day, but it rather indicates that the week is almost over. And finally, I can go home, spend time with Paula, and complete a normal sleep cycle.

What I was expecting on this recently concluded friday was less pressure, so I didn’t make much effort the previous day. If you knew what happened the days before, you’d be convinced that I was justified for taking a short leave from studying. For my Statury Construction class, there were four people that should report before me. And because I was such a crammer, I never took time to read my case assignments while they were already more than 6 weeks waiting for me. I was confident on the basis of Father Ferrer’s pacing of the discussion wherein he usually makes introduction of the case first before calling the attention of the next reporter. But maybe because he was absent on our last meeting due to the Bashang, he made his introductions short and the cases presented were abnormally short, or the reporters are simply getting the hang of it that they almost mastered their assignments. Halfway through the class, the fact that our blockmate one person ahead of me had began reporting awakened my sleepy state. I was so scared because it would soon be me and I haven’t even read any of my cases. And f***, I didn’t even have my materials with me. It was an uneasy situation, I was concentrating and thinking how I was going to explain myself to my professor. Desperate, I asked a pal to pass a note to the person who’s about to report before me to slow down. Fortunately, the bell came soon after. I was close.

As you would see, I was called to recite for my Consti class last Monday. And following a normal course, I shouldn’t be called again anytime within the week because that left more than half of the class as candidates. Father B. has an established reputation of ‘normally’ following a certain order, although he occasionally makes minor cuts in our classcard deck. But this time, before he called up the first person, he made a minor cut which excused a few fellows from being called that day. So there was like a fast forward as a consequence, and increased the possibility of me being called. My heart was pounding hard thirty minutes before the time, and I was seven persons away then. Just when the person directly before me finished reciting, the bell saved me again.

On our last class, I became more confident. I did read a few the other night just to help me get through with the assignment for the weekend. Our professor for Criminal Law follows the normal way of calling people to recite — that is, random. He makes cuts every now and then so you always have to be prepared. But because I was called to recite on Thursday, I presumed he wouldn’t pick my classcard. On two consecutive times? It’s possible but highly improbable because there are more than 50 of us in the block and an hour can only accommodate about 10-15 people because we need to define terms, recite provisions verbatim, be cross-examined on hypothetical cases, and what-not. Again, I recited the previous day, and it was even a tragedy for me.

Let me tell you the Thursday incident. So there I was asked to agree or disagree whether a woman can make a defense that she suddenly blocked out and killed her husband, invoking  ‘temporary insanity’ as an exempting circumstance. There was nothing in the book about temporary insanity so I was caught off guard. Because of his so many questions, I resolved to finally say that there is no such a thing as temporary insanity as you can only be either insane (be it permanent or intermittent) or not, as insanity is defined as the total deprivation of intelligence. He asked if that situation would fall in any of the mitigating circumstances, which is on the next chapter of the book that I did not read yet. Before the class, though, I took some effort to memorize the mitigating circumstances just in case. It was good but not great enough to make me confident enough to recite — heck, there are 10 of them, btw. And since then he was asking about the mitigating circumstances, I didn’t get the follow-up questions and thought he wanted me to enumerate. We were in some debate so I apologized that I thought he was asking me to enumerate, so he said, “then go ahead, ENUMERATE.” I recited Article 13 of the Revised Penal Code with all the 10 mitigating circumstances. I didn’t even think that I’d make it to the last paragraph, but I did, luckily. Then he called someone else. I was not satisfied with my recitation so I thought I should redeem myself next week if I’d get lucky.

After such fateful day, who would think I’d be called upon again? But I was called on Friday. We were back on exempting circumstances and he was asking whether the pointing of a gun or a knife during a bank robbery would constitute an uncontrollable fear or an irresistable force. Three persons before me answered that it is an uncontrollable fear because there was no physical force but only threat. He was happy that finally one person disagreed when he called me. So I explained that because the person is using a weapon such as the gun or the knife, there is no other way that it can get further to be considered an irresistable force. So that mere pointing is already an irresistable force. I furthered that the moment the person inflicts an injury on me, there is no way I can prevent the injury from happening because it has been done, so there is no opportunity for an act to be an exempting circumstance to occur. He asked for an example of an uncontrollable fear so I can differentiate it from my definition of irresistable force. I gave a hypothetical situation that I was supposedly working on a pawnshop, someone called me on my phone asking me to steal a particular jewelry or else he’d kill my parents to whom he was already pointing a gun. That person let me speak to my parents to confirm their situation which convinced me of the necessity of complying with that person’s order. My professor even made a joke that I should have asked my mother where my birthmarks are located so I can really verify that they are not some other people. I said I couldn’t have asked further questions because I was dominated by fear and I could already tell by their voice that they were indeed my parents. After the funny remarks and laughing, he finally said, “Okay, let’s divide the class,” and put the question to a vote between me against the other three. I was somehow redeemed that most of the class sided with me against less than five people who voted in favor of ‘uncontrollable fear.’ It was a relief, although he left the issue hanging.

He shuffled the cards and called a few more people, and then suddenly it was me again. Two times, seriously? It was the call of the cards that he apologized for my misfortune. So he put me again on trial and asked me to compare justifying circumstances, exempting circumstances and absolutory causes. He did not ask further questions after giving my answers, maybe out of pity or out of logic that it would deprive opportunity for other people to recite and make their grades.

What a day. At least I was ‘somehow’ redeemed.

———–

*Don’t be misled. I don’t think there’s a provision in the Revised Penal Code that allows criminals to be ‘redeemed’. Hahaha. This is just for literary purposes and should be interpreted as such. Remember that I am not a legal authority (yet).

The V Proposition

Today we will talk about the Versuses. Don’t be misled, it’s nothing like the Marcoses or the Santoses who we know to be of political and showbiz character, respectively. I highly doubt that there are people in this country whose last names are often of Spanish or Chinese roots would have Versus as a last name. If that’s ever possible, it is highly improbable.

It is an undisputed fact that you cannot pursue lawyering without having to deal with the word ‘versus’, or simply ‘v’ for brevity. Case law, as a primary source of law in addition to statutory law, is generally characterized by the ‘v’ word — that, having a petitioner on one side, and the respondent on the other. It may be brought typically by a civil entity against another civil person, or the State against an individual. Whichever case may be, ‘v’ is indispensable.

In law school, we’ve had our encounters with ‘v’ too. Not that we are against one another.

Last week, during our library tour for our Legal Research course, our block was divided into two groups. During our last stop, my group were up to getting introduced to the OPAC or our local online system as a finding tool for references and legal materials. While the administrator was demonstrating how to use an online database, she asked for a title of a case which we may want to try searching. A bibo blockmate immediately suggested Lawrence v Texas as it was one of the most remarkable cases we were required to read for our Intro to Law course. So the woman started typing Lawrence in the title tab but the search provided no match. Suddenly recognizing that we were using a local product, I told my blockmates that we can never find the case in Philippine Jurisprudence and that we should use Westlaw instead. And so it was resolved.

Before leaving the room, one person was making fun of another blockmate by suggesting that we search for a case under the latter’s name. Another person remarked in response, “How about we try searching Aliens v Predators?” Then everyone started laughing. Then I said, “Freddie v Jason”, and another rebutted, “Plants v Zombies.”

Perhaps you have a ‘v’ idea, too. Mind sharing?

Of Coffee Cups and Thumbs Ups

I am a not anything more than a paradox of a stress-prone insomniac. And because of such disorder, I normally succumb to coffee when I’m confronted with a long list of to-dos, err, to-reads. Coffee is the only thing I know that can diminish one’s contempt of a foreseeable greater stress that will be brought about by excessive studying. But I will never admit to being a coffee addict nor the studious type of person.

Last weekend after a long beauty sleep, I forced my brother to drive me to the nearest coffee shop in that late hour. The idea of a free coffee convinced him to play the driver. I was technically high, a little less panicking with every turn of the page of my precious books. Before leaving, we agreed to be back home at midnight. And because I was getting higher and higher, I couldn’t leave the table without having to read up a significant portion of the assigned readings. And we stayed until 2 am.

I cannot accomplish this crime against sleep without my accomplice, Paula.

So Paula was deprived of sleep too that she was immediately knocked down while we drove home. And the addictus me, continued my reading until morning. Yes, no sleep. Just when I was about to go deeper into my slumber on my way to Makati, I got a ring (you know who). Foolish me, I shouldn’t have placed the bag with the phone on my lap. Ugh, those phone calls and exchange of texts totally bothered me that I was almost unable to regain some sleep before class.

Nevertheless, the coffee break that night kept me more centered on school.

Yesterday was long and exhausting but I got through it eventually. I am looking forward to be on half-day leave tomorrow so I can finally have a full sleep. Hopefully, no more phone calls and texts. And looking forward to spend good time with good friends. After which, I’ll exchange coffee for a Sleepasil to ensure a good night rest.

Coffee break equals bonding break!

A Confession from a Balat-Sibuyas

For crying out loud, I cried over a case I was reading for my Consti class. And I’m not making this up to catch attention. I literally shed tears.

I was even almost cursing while I tried to enjoy my beef teriyaki meal which I truly missed due to my busy schedule. F*** it, a case on Estrada? Just the thought of it could even make me wail for such story has long been overexposed and overrated. The impeachment proceedings fast approaching the Christmas season were the center of all TV networks and they were hailed like telenovelas. I was younger then, and I didn’t appreciate why they all had to go through such lengthy and tedious process just to oust a corrupt official.

I know better now. But I was not really drawn by the technicalities, or what they call ‘constitutionality’, of the case. Rather, I was moved by how the ponente described the national situation then, and I felt I was one of those people who came to EDSA and called for Erap’s resignation. But no, the words of Justice Puno were like daggers to my soul. And for the nth time, I felt I am Filipino.

“January 18 saw the high velocity intensification of the call for petitioner’s resignation. A 10-kilometer line of people holding lighted candles formed a human chain from the Ninoy Aquino Monument on Ayala Avenue in Makati City to the EDSA Shrine to symbolize the people’s solidarity in demanding petitioner’s resignation. Students and teachers walked out of their classes in Metro Manila to show their concordance. Speakers in the continuing rallies at the EDSA Shrine, all masters of the physics of persuasion, attracted more and more people.

“On January 19, the fall from power of the petitioner appeared inevitable. At 1:20 p.m., the petitioner informed Executive Secretary Edgardo Angara that General Angelo Reyes, Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces of the Philippines, had defected. At 2:30 p.m., petitioner agreed to the holding of a snap election for President where he would not be a candidate. It did not diffuse the growing crisis. At 3:00 p.m., Secretary of National Defense Orlando Mercado and General Reyes, together with the chiefs of all the armed services went to the EDSA Shrine. In the presence of former Presidents Aquino and Ramos and hundreds of thousands of cheering demonstrators, General Reyes declared that ‘on behalf of Your Armed Forces, the 130,000 strong members of the Armed Forces, we wish to announce that we are withdrawing our support to this government.’ A little later, PNP Chief, Director General Panfilo Lacson and the major service commanders gave a similar stunning announcement. Some Cabinet secretaries, undersecretaries, assistant secretaries, and bureau chiefs quickly resigned from their posts. Rallies for the resignation of the petitioner exploded in various parts of the country. To stem the tide of rage, petitioner announced he was ordering his lawyers to agree to the opening of the highly controversial second envelope. There was no turning back the tide. The tide had become a tsunami.”

These are excerpts from the case. They may not appeal that much to everyone — which, signifies that I am one true blood balat-sibuyas.

The Economics of Law School Investing

On a normal day, a 4-hour sleep is good enough to sustain me for a long-day bout with my subjects and my professors, not to mention the stress and pressure that a “star-studded” class imputes on the average law student. There is always the need of being able to keep up with their pace and their lingo, which is somehow comparable to that of a jejemon language that normal people cannot easily comprehend. Not that I condemn these conyo people but I don’t want to acquire their manner, which is, btw, contagious.

I guess it’s expected in an esteemed school such as the Ateneo that most of its students would come from the affluent few. However, culture is not the only factor that needs to be considered when one would attempt to balance the costs and benefits of going through law school. Of course, the high tuition fees are already given, which is somehow justified because our professors are making the most of what we pay. The miscellaneous fees are also given because we are paying for high quality facilities. Needless to say, law school is expensive; and those tuition and miscellaneous fees are just the tip of the iceberg for they only constitute what we call the ‘fixed input’ in a typical production equation. Such fixed component is a basic requirement to enter law school.

And then we can also consider the ‘variable inputs’ in our system. They would relate to those that are not explicitly demanded by the school but some important costs that we need to incur on a daily or periodical basis to make the schooling effectual. These include spending on books and other materials, lodging/boarding expenditures to be in proximity with the institution if applicable, allowances, and transportation expenses — whether you spend on gas or taxi cabs to get to Rockwell. We also spend occasionally on clothes and other necessities, such as laptops, e-book readers, etc.

We are pretty much covered on the cash expenses. But wait, there are also non-cash considerations. Law school does not only require you to pay for the program and attend every single day of it, you are also expected to pour your efforts to fit in and make it through. And it’s not as simple as it appears. As Dean Roy puts it, we need to spend about 3-4 hours on reading for every hour of class. So mathematically speaking, on a Tuesday with 4 hours worth of class, we must prepare for about 12-16 hours, leaving roughly 4-8 hours for other important activities like sleep. And sleep is very important in law school. You can’t come to class in a ‘high’ state or else you won’t be able to make a fair recitation since it demands concentration, understanding and analysis. Without a properly charged brain, you are doomed.

So what is this time has got to do with our economic equation? We are not counting to time as it simply passes by, we use it to achieve our purpose in combination with other factors like hard work. And time plus effort and hard work results to stress. We also need to have courage and resilience, which, if we do not have as of the moment, we necessarily have to develop.

And what about ‘opportunity cost’? It is defined as the value of a forgone alternative. For example, instead of spending my 12 hours to reading, I could have done other activities that are more enjoying like going to the movies or an amusement park to have fun, or simply take a full rest. And law school is depriving us of a lot of opportunities like having more time with our family or undertaking more fulfilling activities other than being humiliated in front of the class. Not being able to answer is like committing a crime, except that it is done in a random manner and rarely calculated. You can be called any time, sometimes even for all the subjects within a given day.

Opportunity cost is higher for a young mother like me. I need to sacrifice looking after my little girl during her most critical stage of development.

In this type of investment, there can only be utility during this investing term. Utility in the hope that one day we will eventually become lawyers. Utility in the fact that everyday we become more knowledgeable. There can be no other form of returns or compensation until we make it to the legal profession — which, is still indeterminable especially in these initial stages. Our success would rely on our performance and how hard we are going to work in order to achieve it.

Law school is a risky investment. And like equities, there is a need for a long-term perspective to realize any gain. Like hedge funds, it is necessary that we strategize effectively as the risks are significantly high in anticipation of higher returns. Yes, the stakes are high in this business. Thus, the need to strengthen our operations and tighten our measures to achieve our end-goal must be emphasized.

Defying Intellectualism

I have a rare phobia.

Now that I am officially a law student, I think it’s but right that I also write about academics and not just any school-related stuff. It is only fair that I also share my viewpoints but I always find myself short.

I never liked politics although I have also been a student-leader myself. I did embrace leading the student government in two consecutive terms when I was in highschool but it was such an exceptional case. Yes, there was the notion of government and politics that was devoid of corruption. I couldn’t even distinguish graft from corruption then. The nuns were expert at honing young people with good moral values. As a student of an Augustinian Recollect school, everyday was a journey with God, at least consciously. But then these nuns were no expert at all.

We immersed ourselves in the real world unprepared for its challenges. We were ignorant and too good to be easily fooled, making us an easy target of this material-driven world. My greatest and only regret in studying at UP was the culture shock I’ve had to endure, because it made me a failure at one point to another. I’ve had my glorious moments too. The university was a playing field in a game where I can always compete when I want to. But I didn’t always want to because my ignorance frustrated me.

I was a good student. I never took finals in any of my subject, except for one wherein I was absent during its third long exam. I had no grade for that exam which forced me to take finals in lieu of that. And guess why I was absent… It was due to a heartbreak I couldn’t endure. So that describes how idiot I was (and is still up to now). I could ace my economics but often a little short with the technical courses. Nevertheless, my professors would remember me. And it’s not always a positive thing to note.

One time when I was supposed to graduate, a distinguished alumni of our organization who was then holding an important role in the college requested to see me in her office. That was the first and only time I was being reprimanded. And that was then that I heard the most offensive thought I could take from a mentor… “Your schoolmates are looking up to you. What do you think they would say if they find out that…” Let’s cut off that crap. (Hey, that particular problem was personal and she confronted me in ‘politics’. But that’s not the reason why I so hated politics.)

So, politics. I have hated politics since UP. I’d be confident with math and economics, including statistics, but never politics. And everyone might wonder, why law when it has so much politics. Let me love law but not politics. So what is the chance that I share to you my thoughts on academics? I hope someday I can find that little chance.

So how is law related to my frustration in college? I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer ever since I was a child. And with all my frustrations, I felt the need to redeem myself from all my failures. And I don’t mean to simply even out the kinks but I intend to somehow leave these failures in the shadow. I want to prove to my parents that I can get myself a better future, one that they have envisioned of me when I was a lot younger. I want to prove to myself that I can stand up no matter what. And I want to fight for women like me.

So intellectualism, I am with you up to the day I get my title. I am with you until I find my peace in my redemption, until I free these women from the shackles on their feet.

But hell no, I will not discuss the issues. Just let me through them.

What’s Funny is Supposed to be Entertaining

As the title implies, I have created this new category so I can document some of the funniest, if not the happiest, moments I spend with my friends and family. I intentionally picked the label “entertainment” so it can have a broader meaning, thus, a broader scope, since not everything that entertains can be funny. Entertainment can make you teary-eyed too, although I have accepted the fact that I can’t make a good drama. I can’t even make a little white lie work. So admit that I’m a failure at entertainment, but let’s keep it that way anyway for simplicity.

But don’t make expectations, please. You might be discouraged. Keep in mind that we have different thresholds in terms of joy and pleasure. Just think that this is not really for you to laugh at. This is for me and my little diary. And don’t judge how shallow I am. That’s not too comforting.

————————————

Earlier at Father B’s b-day celebration, we played charades. It was girls against the boys, and the answers were related to legal terms and concepts.

It was a close fight between the male and the female species. When the answer was confirmed during the girls’ turn, one dear classmate exclaimed:

Girl: “My answer was so close! Sagot ko ‘sex’!”

Because the real answer was ‘marriage’, how close can we ever get?

———————————–

Because law school can never be without recitations, most of the funniest remarks are delivered during a professor’s ‘cross-examination’ of a student.

Prof: Where does the Congress conduct its hearing?

Boy (Confidently): in QC

Prof: ???

Boy (Quickly withdrawing his previous answer): Oh! Not anymore!

Prof: So where?

Boy (Realizing it’s not in QC because of Prof’s violent reaction to his first answer): Somewhere else!

Prof (Decided a hint would help): Where is Batasang Pambansa?

Boy: In Batasan!

—————————————

One professor remarked with all conviction, ” Ang tanging yaman ng mga Pinoy…”

Any guess, guys?

“Cellphone.”

————————————–

Because everybody was rushing to leave school after a fun party, no one realized until someone finally noticed that we forgot to press the button of the elevator…

Girl: Sundutin ninyo!

So that’s what you do to make the elevator move.

—————————————

Girls sharing stories about their irregular menstruation…

Girl 1: Kasi di ko alam kailan, kaya lagi akong may dala (sandwich). Irregular kasi ako.

Girl 2: Uy, parehas tayo! Ako, first time ko nung third yeard high, then one year bago nasundan.

Girl 1: Ako grade 4 pero once lang, then second year na siya bumalik. After non tuloy-tuloy na.

Girl 3: Ah… Tuloy-tuloy nang irregular.

—————————————-

A piece of advice. How to distinguish a criminal from a civil case…

Scenario 1: A attacked B with a bolo with intent to kill.

Scenario 2: C raised his bolo as he was moving towards his victim, D.

Scenario 3: In E’s attempt to protect F from getting hit by G who was carrying a bolo, the former was inflicted with a mortal wound.

So the key is “bolo“. As I quote a blockmate, “So many deaths by bolo.”

I Am Overly Drained

Yes, and I feel like I am so ineffective in sending my message across to my friends.

I understand that my previous post has brought my stats a mile high against my other posts for the last two weeks and it has adversely exposed my imperfections. I am having so much difficulty in putting my ideas in a coherent manner, adding more insult to my flawed construction.

So there, please spare me again from your scrutiny. I am but human devoid of normal sleep. My brain cells are exhausted.

I Am Justified

I’ve been thinking the entire afternoon about our recent discussion in Philo of Law. I left school and arrived in the office still having the same baggage.

A blockmate of mine might have noticed how I was keeping my head quite low. He said something I couldn’t remember now, but what stuck in my head was how I could easily be associated to what our professor has related. It is no doubt that a child is indeed entitled to his/her right to a mother and a father, but it is not something that I alone can provide to my child. I felt I am justified for not being able to insure such right to her. It was somehow a choice and the result of having no choice.

It’s my choice to end the almost five-year relationship I’ve had with her father. It took me long to make such an intelligent decision. It took me so much pain and sorrow as it was like my whole life spent with that person. In a way, I am like depriving my own self of a known vice or an addiction, or maybe a way of living. He was my life for a time and it was such a huge challenge to overthrow such life. I have to go through almost being lifeless and I did think about that when I made such choice. I was fully aware of the consequences. And as much as I wanted to keep our family together, I also wanted to keep out more pain. I was afraid, and still am, that such pain would be worse enough to hurt her — as it usually hurts her when she witnesses us fighting.

We were a good couple, almost perfect. We got along too well that we never got bored wherever, whatever. He’s the only smart I know that can maintain an interesting exchange of ideas and good humor. Or maybe that WAS for me because of love. The bottom line is, we were happy, almost absolutely — except for some ‘preferences’ he can’t do away with. I call them preferences because they are not normal, but not impossible. These are but preferences that make up his ego. I don’t want to go through all the troubles of making it more clear and discernable. Let us just call it “psychological incapacity”. He was and is willing to accept the responsibilities, but he doesn’t really understand what those responsibilities require. He was willing to give more, but is not ready to bend. So how does that work?

I can simply put it this way… He is not the type of person who will give up everything for the family; Fuck him, because I am. He can be what a husband normally is, but he is everything a father is not. Love, for him, is simply companionship and short-term happiness but never responsibility and commitment. He doesn’t know loyalty, faithfulness and fidelity. To sum it up, he doesn’t know what a family is. He just wants to live and have everything that will keep him happy without having to think what he should do to make others happy. Other people’s happiness was never his business. Maybe one day he will learn but I don’t think it will be soon or less soon. And maybe before he learns, my daughter could have endured so much. And I don’t want that to happen.

Because he is unfatherly, he doesn’t know what his child needs. Leave it to me, as a mother, to understand what I should keep my child away from.

Music Thoughts

Today is a rather emotional day. So instead of indulging into my own sorrows, I chose to let my music spirit dominate.

So sharing some of the undying lines I sing along with:

“And I know you can see right through me so let me go. And you will find someone.” – Only One, Yellowcard

“And I’m tired of being all alone and this solitary moment makes me want to come back home.” – Your Call, Secondhand Serenade

Oops. It’s time.

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!