Christmas issues

To say that I love Christmas would be an understatement. From the cold weather, the nine dawn masses (which I’ve successfully completed in between rushing for last-minute law-related stuff and parties), the rabid anticipation as the clock strikes twelve and everybody in the family gathers for the Noche Buena, the opening of gifts, to the general feeling of gratitude for having a complete and tightly knit family…. Christmas has always been a reminder of how good life gets.

But this Christmas is different for a certain reason.

My sister, to whom I am very close, will be leaving for work abroad early next year. It’s what she always wanted, and with the miserable state of employment here in the country, there isn’t really any other choice, is it?

Her leaving means that I’ll lose the last strand of any semblance of a social life that I have. I did mention before that I live a very routinary life, mainly composed of staying in my apartment for the school days and going home on the weekends. During these days we’d banter around, talk about our common sphere of interests, and do crazy stuff together whenever time permits. So yes, she’s my sister and, at the risk of being teased by her on the off-chance that she reads this, my best friend.

Oh sister, how will I manage without you around? You’re one of the few if not the only one who understands my jokes, who actually cares, and who’s just there. So tell me, what do I do now?

***

At the risk of being called insensitive, of course I am deeply sad about the plight of the Sendong victims. The problem is I haven’t done anything of note to actually help—and this is what gets me. I feel the need to do something more than empty words and donations. But what, exactly?  I am at a loss.

My prayers are with them.

***

Oh boy. Look at the date. Around these days last year I was getting to know a certain someone. We eventually got into a relationship, which lasted for a little less than six months and which was my last relationship.

For the record, I really did think that he was the one. I guess I should say sorry to myself. I’m pretty sure I’m romanticizing and reading more into the relationship than I should be, but I really did think that was the one.

Of course I’ve moved on, but what bothers me is my complete inability to make a connection. Dates can be a chore; I find it ridiculously difficult to sustain a conversation during such—laughing on cue, responding appropriately, and so on and so forth.

To be honest I’m getting troubled. I wonder when HE will come around.

Oh, and before I forget: MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Let Me Gloat

Today I got a letter:

(Proof of how I couldn't edit photos even if my life depended on it)

It was an invitation for a summer internship program from what apparently is one of the biggest law firms in the country. Yay? I'm having second thoughts about pursuing this though because: my usual bouts of insecurities are kicking in, and I just want to have one long summer of doing absolutely nothing.

Still, it's pretty cool to be one of the "top" law students, as per last school year. Haha! I'm not sure I can do the same this year, so I better boast now, or I won't ever get the chance.

Ohhh by the way, I went on a date yesterday. He was nice, and he kept me interested throughout the entire thing. And also, that was one of the few dates I actually cared about, in that I had the decency to brush my teeth, comb my hair, and look long and hard in front of the mirror before meeting him. All that right after I got out of my terror class.

Anyway, this guy I'm talking about is a friend of a friend. He's not exactly my type--but I find myself waiting for his texts. I know better than to show too much interest though, because I know myself. And I know for a fact that this is just one of those times where I want another person to badly like me, and ignore him the moment he does. Hah. The point is that I don't want to play another round of my senseless affirmation-seeking game.

Which is why this quote from one of my favorite authors is appropriate in describing who (or what) I am:

I wanted it, I wanted it, I wanted it, but the moment it was mine it ceased to interest me.

I wonder when that one person who'll never cease to interest me will come... I mean, really, is that so much to ask for?

And have I mentioned that I ran into my ex earlier this week? My friends and I were in the mall, both of whom know of this recent relationship. Then just like that, he appeared out of nowhere, our eyes met, and we both gave a brief glance and mouthed 'hi' with our lips. And that was it. The first time we saw each other since we last broke up six months ago. Ahh, six months. This month's also that month last year where we started talking to each other after college.

What did I feel when I saw him? First I panicked at the thought that he might have seen me look all stressed. Next I noticed how he got fatter since we last saw each other. And last, I remembered how I ran into him in the same mall when we were still in a relationship. He was with his family and he couldn't bring himself to walk away for five minutes just to talk to him. And I was there looking at him from a distance. Because I was stupid. Yes, my heart thumped for a few minutes and for a while I couldn't understand what I was feeling. And yes, I pondered on the possibility that I was probably still in love with him. But no, I realized that what I felt was no longer love, but a nostalgia of how we were and what we used to be. And just like that, closure from within has been re-affirmed.

My life is boring

I wasn't surprised when somebody else said it out loud.

My life is boring. I wake up, I go to the library (and sometimes, for good measure, grab a quick breakfast in a convenience store or wherever), attend class, study right after, go to a coffee shop near my place to study, then go home to my empty apartment. I no longer log in to Facebook as often as I used to--which means that I practically dissolved the last strand of my sorry social life. Just yesterday, I forgot my cellphone and didn't even bother worrying if anybody was looking for me; in fact I was quite happy, because not having it with me meant that I didn't have to talk with someone who's been annoying me for quite a while.

When I got home to check my phone, I had a few messages, one of which was from a guy I used to date asking me out for dinner. Her friend texted me too, asking me to come out with the guy. I deleted the messages and went on with my life.

I'm not exactly miserable. But I must admit, I do get sad every now and then, if only for the sheer lack of people to talk to about life, the music that I like, the movies that I love, and everything else in between. If only for the lack of something to look forward to, except a recitation or an exam. 

I've always taken a sense of curiosity with the fact that some gay men seem to have much more colorful love lives than I do. I'm surely not that abominable. Why hasn't anyone been asking me out?! No sooner than I ask this question do I realize the reason why: I don't socialize; I stay at home on Friday and Saturday nights; I watch movies alone; and, the game of flirting has become a tired exercise for me. 

This is not a call for help. This isn't even a call for friends to come over. This is simply an admission that I need something else in my life aside from my law books and my pride. So maybe I should do something new, try to make a few changes in my life. But how do I do that without losing the essence of who I am in the process?

An attempt at conversation

I haven't been talking much, have I?

In the past few months, I saw myself careening through the stress of final exams. In retrospect, I don't think I've ever studied that hard and that long. I'm honestly amazed at myself--at how I woke up everyday at 8:30 AM and never stopped studying until it was time to sleep.

But what's even more amazing is how my priorities gradually shifted. In the early months of the semester I saw myself dating around, trying my luck on finding a partner that could possibly replace the last. And then, just like that, I stopped.

I stopped trying not to be alone. Stopped caring that my ex found a replacement less than a week after we broke up. Stopped caring about physical and emotional imperfections that he would carelessly point out every now and then. I just stopped. And thank God I did.

**

So what have I been up to lately? Aside from reading books, working, and spending time with my family in what little free time I have, I also watch movies. Just the other day I watched there was a filmfest in Greenbelt. I watched with my sister, and ended up getting free tickets to this film:

The film portrays a modern Italian guy's attempt at making his family understand homosexuality. It's so much more than that, of course, so you'll have to go find a copy of the film yourself. What I can say is that it's a great film that personally made me laugh and realize a lot of things.

So I guess I'll see you around then?

You Need to See this

If you've been reading my dragging posts long enough, then you've probably figured out that I'm a hopeless romantic who, despite all my failed relationships and unfortunate dating history, still secretly believes that there's someone out there for me. Someone that fits who I am. Like a glove. Maybe that person has already come, but that's another story.

The point of this entry, actually, is to share this trailer I came across. If you can't view it here, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUU_WzRBHX4 instead. (Hehe, sorry, too lazy to make a proper hyperlink)

Just this week, I decided to terminate a friendship with a close friend in law school. He's one of the few gay people I'm comfortable enough to share my personal secrets with. And what do I get? One lazy evening, while we were talking in jest, he told me that I'm much gayer than he is, that I've had much more relationships than he has, and other qualities I was honestly surprised he even considered.

There are at least two lessons that I can cull from this. One, that his tendency to be condescending and patronizing, which I thought was perfectly fine with me, has taken its toll on me. For someone with so many insecurities, he certainly has a way of dealing with and judging people the odd (for lack of a better of word) way. Second, maybe I don't understand the dynamics of gay relations at all. In any other gay relationship, it might have been a perfectly acceptable mode of conduct. I actually think the latter holds more water, but that doesn't make me any more comfortable with how attacked I felt.

Don't get me wrong; the termination of friendship is not as dramatic as it may sound. I guess I just disappeared from his affairs--an act which I am apparently pretty good at.

Other than the constant threat of failure in law school hovering around my head, nothing really remarkable has been happening in my life lately. I guess you could call my day-to-day life as boring. The happy kind of boring :)

:)

For the first time in my life I have this amazing sense of purpose and clarity. A purpose totally unrelated to matters of the heart. A purpose identified three months after a tough break-up (at least on my part), countless flings with boys (none of which were men), and an Insurance midterm exam that I almost passed.

I finally know what I really want with my life. No, I don’t want to be that person who gives myself away far too easily and settles for anything less. I finally decided to stop pegging myself worth with what other people think of me, or with the presence of another half. 

I’ve been making changes. I’m trying to be a more productive worker. I’ve also been trying to study a lot harder. Following a year of decent performance in law school, my second year has so far been unremarkable, if not disappointing. Backlogs, unremarkable recits, coming to class unprepared, settling for case digests…that’s not why I’m supposed to be here for, is it? I used to genuinely love learning and understanding, but somewhere along the way, it all stopped making sense. I’ll be betternow :P

On Teaching

Before the sem started, I planned on being an evening law student. I had my eyes on a teaching position in the university. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a vacancy before the sem started. But I just got a message, asking me if I’m interested in the teaching position for the subjects I’d love to teach. 

While on one hand, I want to finish my studies and finally start the rest of my life as a lawyer, teaching has always been a secret passion of sorts. Ah, well, I still have a couple of weeks to think about it. 

On Newfound Interests

What’s an interesting hobby to take up? I would love to try working out, but I get tired so easily. (Random trivia: I can fall asleep anywhere. In fact, I’ve pretty much slept everywhere—and yes, that includes right smack in front of my professors.) Gold’s Gym will be opening in Katipunan, that could be a fresh start. But honestly, what’s stopping me is all the stories of men going to the gym and hooking up. 

Which reminds me... I've always wanted to try cooking! Sadly I know zilch about cooking. 

So I think I’ll settle for table tennis for now. And because I’m feeling a little dangerous (and because I think it's finally time to put a face to the name), let me post a snapshot of me hahaha. 

On Downsizing 

So yeah, the worst has come and passed. After my little misadventure, a friend or two actually had the guts to ask me what the hell happened at the party. I was so flustered, mainly because I didn’t know how to deal with issues like that. I’m pretty much low profile. I can sense that they’re (they being my friends) treading very lightly—they’re not sure what’s the proper approach. So I resolved to just forget that night, as if nothing happened. I never met the guy. I never jumped into his car. Saturday never happened. Sometimes, forgetting is a lot easier than dealing.

The point, I guess, is that I should stop trying to expand my world. I have friends, and they're hell of the best. While I should always try new things and experiences, that doesn't mean I should make a deliberate effort to change who I am. This is who I am, funny to some, boring to most. And the great thing? This is the me I'm starting to finally love.

A Footnote Story

Here's the thing. I don't party. The only time I went to a bar to drink and party and get wasted (in theory) was back in college--and that's because the party was organized by an organization of which I'm an officer.

Okay. Now there was this party in law school, and I was practically compelled to attend. To cut the long story short, I danced, drank, and met a guy. This guy flirted with me and danced with me. I can't say I was totally comfortable with it, considering that my blockmates were there and I didn't really know how to respond to situations like that.

Anyway, he asked for my number. We texted as we were beside each other. He drove me home. We kissed. And we stopped short of doing it. I insisted on not doing it, and he relented. The next day, we talked through text, with wide intervals in between. And that was it.

I asked him about last night, to the effect that: "I don't know if it's a clubbing thing, but last night was purely just for fun, right? We're friends, yeah?" Because I was really that confused. Is that how one-night stands (in this case, a half-baked one) work? 'Cause I only see it happen in movies. You're not supposed to text each other the day after, right? Because I was totally willing to stop.

And he affirmed. He said that he's really not looking for a relationship right now and that I'm a nice guy and all the things people say after an awkward and inappropriately intimate night together. Me? yeah, the last thing I want right now is a relationship. And I wouldn't want anything to get more awkward than it already is; what happened was weird enough already...I get it. He's not totally my type. We are very different (case in point: he asked me to puff a cigarette!! What the).

 But. I can't say I totally understand myself. Why did I do it? Having explored another dimension of this apparently "wild" side of me, I can now say with certainty that it's not the life I want to live. Another boy gone past. Another lesson learned.

Midterms in Law School

are quite over. This is by far one of my worst performances. I was out of focus most of the time, somebody I dated had been badgering me to get into a relationship with him, and I was just out of it. Law school, the entire of it.

Oh, I also received a text message. This friend of mine saw my recent ex and his new guy, whom he met and got together with less than a month after we broke up. Hah. They were apparently strolling around in the same university where I study.

Today I received news that a friend of mine thought that being friends with me could only go so far. I am, according to her, the type who would only open so much, who can only go so far for friendship. I don't exactly contest this... I'm not the happiest person. I have so many issues, so many insecurities. I can be quiet and reserved, and although I can really be funny when I want to (assuming that we're talking about the same level of humor), I would rather find error in things....


But I can be fun, too! History is fun, music is fun, movies are fun, reading is fun....especially when all these are done alone!

I guess something's really wrong with me then?

On Post-Breakup and the Perks of Living Alone

My ex is an asshole, and I don't even think he understands why. He would call or text me up to tell me about his recent date, and how he has a "gut feeling" that this guy's the "one". I have no qualms about talking to him every now and then, but for the life of me I can't understand what he wants me to say. Congrats? Get a room? How about, you're a fucking moron?

While on one hand, there might be a tiny part of me that feels a slight pang of jealousy, I can't help but want to ask him: tanga ka ba? How on earth can you believe that you're meant to be with a person you've only met for a little less than a month?? 

I just hate people who act beyond leaps and bounds of logic! I would think that our failed relationship would at least teach him something about taking everything slow and the disadvantages of a long distance relationship...but to me it seems as if he grew backwards. I would think someone with decent scholastic records would be able to think within the confines of reason. But no. 

That being said, I don't think he it's my problem any longer. If he wants to meet up with random "good-looking" people in some gay networking site, fine. I'm just not a fan of him calling me up to tell me the sordid details of his misadventures. 

Anyway, maybe this is the point where I should be saying that I'm sort of seeing someone. Sort of. There isn't an official record or something of it just yet....

I've just been so busy. Lawyers, upperclassmen, and law professors who said that sophomore year would be the easiest....well, they were lying. I've had to double my efforts, memorize everything, but still, there's no guarantee that I'll slip through unscathed! 

So yeah. I'm happy. I go to class, trying to prepare myself for all the cases and laws assigned. I join friends when they dine, whenever I want to. At night I go home, and either work or study. Sometimes I do the latter in coffee shops or the library. I'm as normal as a normal law student can be.

Don't get me wrong. There are random wtf moments when I would just dig a deep hole in a matter of seconds, and feel really depressed. Like a few moments ago. Why do I feel as if I'm the one who was left in the dark? Why do I want to take revenge? You know, the usual thoughts that pass through the broken-hearted. 

Through it all, I know that I'll rise from this. I trust myself enough to know that I'll see myself through this. A little bird told me all I needed was time :) 

The Real Comeback Entry

I've been trying to blog again, promise! But if you think I'm not writing enough, I'd be the first person to tell you that it's not because of the depression or anger, two apparent themes in my previous entry.

It's about time to revisit to the main purpose why this blog was set up in the first place: law school. I remember how much of a struggle it was to me--living away from my family, plunged into a strange and foreign environment, forced to mature beyond my years.. Okay. Maybe I'm not mature enough just yet. 


All factors and circumstances considered, I must say: what I underwent in the past year seriously changed a lot in me. I don't even think I should spell out what those changes are--res ipsa loquitur.

Second year into law school and here I am. Practically living all by myself and still struggling to make the dream come true. Some efforts of mine have paid off--I landed somewhere up there last year. But this, for sure, is never a guarantee of what will happen this coming year. I simply have to try harder under harder circumstances.

In fine, what I mean is that I'm in a generally better place. I may have lost love, but I realize: waiting for the person I can watch movies and television series with, be quiet with as we read books all night, and talk to about everything should be worth the wait. That's what I'm after. No more of the teenage rush that's sure to last for no more than a few lingering moments.

Now, back to my cases.

A Breakup Story

I'm in a dark room as I type this, mulling over the right things to say, roughly five months after I decided to end this blog on my own terms. I ended this blog, the same way I ended all my other relationships--upon my discretion, whenever I stopped having fun. I was always the one who called the shots. The guy who always got what he wanted.

I have been planning to write for a long time now, but I had my reservations. What would I write? How could I put the pain to intelligible words, if I could put it to words at all? How could I simulate the heavy, empty feeling of losing someone that meant so much to me? Would I choke back tears as I talked about the anguish and hopelessness?

To answer the last question, I didn't choke back the tears--because there weren't any to begin with. What was left after a seemingly decent closure (a word I am trying to reconcile my thoughts with, because it's a contradiction in itself; what's to close when both parties are no longer open to the possibility of real reconciliation, which in essence means getting back together?) is a curious feeling, betrayal, some sort of anger.... in me, at least.

But I guess, in some way, that's how I always felt. Betrayal, whenever he wouldn't keep a promise he thought I forgot. Sadness, whenever something happened that confirmed my suspicions. Anger, when I saw myself in him--the worst part of me, that is.

All the good and optimistic promises of love... I might've lost it much earlier than he did. I possibly lost it the moment I flirted with another guy for the first time, and the second, then the third...followed by a series of men, the memory of whom is already a murky vision in my head. I was merely holding on way before he pulled the plug. Much earlier than when he said that he'd fallen out. Was I still in love when I read all the conversations he had had with other guys? Or was it pride that drove me through the roof?

In the small cozy restaurant where we talked, as I looked at him with a significant amount of loathing, I can't help but wonder in retrospect: was I still in love with him then? Because all I can remember was wanting to punch him in the face, get the entire fiasco done and over with, send him off to the fuck hole where he came from.

Love is the primary controlling factor in every relationship, right? If it is, then I would say with certainty: I did love him. It was an interesting mix of shame and romance, and we both couldn't handle it. Could we? Even if we tried a bit harder? I guess not.

They say a break-up is never mutual, and it always ends up with one person feeling like complete crap. I'm owning up to that role, to the satisfaction of all the others I've broken up with on my own terms. Here I am, finally the person who was abandoned, not the person who left.

This is what I've been reduced to. Alone in a dark apartment room. Trying to make sense of what happened days before I'm writing this. For the very few people who know, and have asked, I am simply at a loss for words. What will I say? How do I explain the downfall of a relationship I seemed so sure of? Do I cry and grieve in public, like in the movies? Do I reply to his messages, allow him to leech off my emotional residue?

There were many questions--there still are, actually. But for now, I'm going to satisfy myself with a definite answer to a question I've been trying to shove aside these past few days: are we over?

Decidedly so.

Standstill

Is this what you call a standstill?

I have so much to do: read all my backlog cases for Obligations and Contracts, a weekend away from the make-or-break exam; finish all the articles I'm supposed to do; work on a reviewer; and, pull a group together for a class presentation.

And, with all these under my belt, what exactly have I accomplished?

Nothing.

I'd finish all of these if I started working now, keep moving forward like I always used to, but I can't. What I inconveniently have instead are the following: a sad, splitting headache and growing insecurity--both of which I've never had in this degree before.

I have been opening my ideas and emotions less and less to people, and the only ones who are there for me...well, I can't even point out where the problem begins myself, much less point it out to them. I suppose I do have a penchant for being irrationally emotional at the most random moments.

Or am I? Are these emotions really that baseless? Am I wanted enough? Am I doing the right thing? Am I cut out for this? Do I quit? And no, I'm not just referring to one idea.

In one way or another, it's sad. My acads is the only thing I have going for me, and I'm so close to botching it up. I have to get out of this stressful pattern, really. These are one of the times when I just want to be as upfront and open about my emotions as other people are. These are one of the times when I wish I would stop being so freaking uptight.

And because I know I can't for the simple reason that I don't know how I can be, the only truth I can come up with right now is: I am on a standstill, and I must get out.


PS. This blog has gotten me through the worst times, and I think it's cool how I was able to sustain something for more than almost eight months. But it has served its purpose and is beginning to be more trouble than it's worth. One of these days I'll shut down this blog: it's a question of when, not if.

Firework

It's 12:10 of Saturday, and I'm studying crimes against public order. I've been reading for about five hours now, and only stopped to eat, talk for around 10 sweet minutes with him, and take the short ride home. I also listened to a few clips of American Idol, just so I can have some sort of diversion. All signs point to the fact that I will probably be staying up for a while longer: there are around 20 cases left and a good number of pages left in my Criminal Law book.

The drudgery and stress of law school, and I've mentioned this an awful lot of times already, can get unnerving. Whenever it gets to me, I try to remember what he told me: to think of the positive. And it is with such positive thoughts that I eventually feel better. I realize how lucky I should be for being here...and how even luckier I am for having him.

And when I come to think of it, there's so much more to be positive about. So fine, maybe there were days when my recitations were not at par, or when my classmates were being particularly competitive or critical. On the whole though, I'm in a pretty good place. And here's the cheesy part: I'm in love, and it feels really great!

Fine. I'm not driving at any particular point here. I guess I'm just trying to find a way to release my thoughts without having to actually interact. Everybody around me just seems so stressed lately. And also, a way to share this video I found on the Internet:

Happy Valentine's Day

I guess I let the pressure get to me. First off, let me say this little trivia: I don't ever remember worrying about Valentine's Day before. Sure, I did all the little celebratory stuff with friends and family, and at one time with a significant other when we were in a relationship. But this Valentine's Day is something else in at least three ways:

1. A group of friends in the block have this little agreement to have a Valentine's date for tomorrow. Whoever doesn't get one loses. This deal was made some months ago, and with the actual day a mere hours away, what's the result?

Zilch. None of them managed to find a date, and now they're posting all these queasy stuff in Facebook. 

2. Once I had lunch with a blockmate and M--easily one of my best friends in law school. It was one of those moments when we didn't talk about the stress of law school...they talked about something that, to me, seemed more stressful to them: the prospect of finding a husband.

They literally, categorically said that law school is the last chance for them to find a future husband. Once they graduate without a boyfriend, they said they would have to accept their fate: that they will be single lawyers forever. The more I think about it, the funnier the idea sounds--yet they were dead serious when they made the pronouncement. 

3. He and I had our advanced Valentine's celebration, and it was great in every way. But this means that we won't be celebrating tomorrow. Which means that I have a free date tomorrow, along with all the anxious souls in the block. It got pretty crazy: I even had a little fight with him about this, only until I realize the morning after that I have to be more than thankful that I have him. Every day, not just on Valentine's Day. And I guess not celebrating is the best thing to do. We're not exactly up and about, if you know what I mean.

Through it all, I don't hate Valentine's Day with the same passion my former debate partner in undergrad did. When I asked him last year what his plans for the day was, he told me that he didn't believe in commercialization and would in no way subscribe to sensationalized, Hallmark-fabricated events.

That's certainly one perspective. But really, would it hurt all the single people and those who wouldn't be able to celebrate on that day to just give happy couples a break and celebrate their love? Just a day? The alternative, I think, is much worse. Without an actual day to call Valentine's, I don't think every couple would bother to set a date for expressing their love. 

What I'm really saying is, without bitterness from an anxious guy who can't celebrate the day with the love of his life: Happy Valentine's Day! 

Of Love, Law School, and Hubert Webb

I look at the leftover Tic Tac mints you probably forgot or left on purpose. I open my ref and see the half-eaten chocolate cake you gave me. I lie on the bed thinking of how, just the night before, we were holding hands and swearing our love for each other on the very same bed.

Honestly? Learning all the complicated concepts in law school is nowhere near as difficult as dealing with this is. The former takes a considerable amount of time and effort, but the latter? It's like being stabbed right through the heart, but I know the pain is well worth it.

This is worth it, because every now and then I get to sleep and see you in my dreams--and sometimes they can be so surreal that it's more than enough to get me through the day. And on every rare occasion, I get to hear your laugh, your voice, and your genuine words. I get to kiss you in the most random moments and talk about everything...or just be quiet and watch you as you sleep. I can switch from my melodramatic to my insane self without inhibition. I know I'm lucky because I have found someone I can talk to about anything. Anything.

I mean, for someone who shuts down one's self to an awful lot of people, I'm lucky to have found someone I can easily open up to--for the simple reason that this person listens and has valid insights. For the simple reason that this is the person I love, and I want him to have and share everything of me without holding back. I'm probably not the most handsome, nor the brightest guy out there. But I surmise, and i have reasonable belief to conclude that this is true, that this is the best of who I am.

Just the idea of how perfect you are for me boggles me. The way you love and respect your family. Your talent and the humility that goes along with it. The humor. Allow me to say it's everything I wished for but never thought would come. Now that you're here, I'm just happy that we happened.

That being said, I can easily say:

1) The pain, really, is a negligible trade-off to the overwhelming and leaping feeling of happiness I'll be brave enough to say I've never experienced before;
2) Call me cheesy, but I don't think I'll ever get tired of talking about this love. I mean, when you found someone who fits perfectly out of the millions of people out there, what else is there to do?

---

The official list of passers for my college was just released. Man... that's almost one full year since I found out that I passed. What has happened to me since then?

Let me see... I graduated from college with sufficient honors. I fell in love. I got into law school. Terrorized more times than I can keep track and at one point literally couldn't sleep because of fear of the next class. I fell out of love. I got through the sem pretty well.

And...here I am in pretty good shape. Merely months ago I thought that I'd quit law school and that God was evil. But. I guess He really does have his ways beyond the limits of human reason. Really, sometimes I myself don't understand what the hell I'm staying here for, but I'm sure he wouldn't have let me passed without good reason. So I guess I move forward.

---

Hubert Webb was invited to an interview earlier today. I won't pass judgment on whether or not I think he's guilty, but there are quite a few pointers of his that I don't agree with.

First, he talked about how taking drugs is at par with heavy drinking, or casual drinking for that matter. He went on about how it shouldn't be punished, just as disobeying your parents shouldn't be. I mean, really?

Second, he commented on how lawyer's fees can get exorbitantly high. He said something to the effect of, "there's something wrong there." He had a choice, and he chose to hire the expensive lawyers. For all I know, he should've been thankful that the lawyers who worked on his case were able to help in acquitting him.

Next he talked about the fact that he's suing Alfaro for the false testimony and accounts she gave not because he wanted vindication but because the "next Jessica Alfaro" is around the corner. According to him, he was part of a conspiracy to smokescreen the prominent issues at that time and that Jessica Alfaro was paid to give a false testimony. Granted that all these are true, I thought his "noble objective" of teaching false and paid witnesses a lesson is pretty farfetched from suing Jessica Alfaro alone. Really, how would Jessica Alfaro's conviction deter other paid witnesses from giving false accounts? So please. Spare me the "I'm doing it for you" bullshit.

But what really took the cake was how he kept equating being rational to believing his side. But really, when it came right down to it, I didn't think he gave anything substantial to make me believe for or against his guilt. So how was the interview? Granted the interview questions and inappropriately informal setting for such a sensitive issue, I think it was pretty tacky and poorly handled.

A Manifesto

You're know, you're really something. You come here, and we try to live for the moment. I can't touch you because you're not here...but you're here. I can see your smile, the way you laugh. You'd lean over me and kiss me. And every once in a while you'd sulk because I did something you didn't like. And I'd hug you from behind. You'd turn around and we'd kiss. And those kisses, they have varied meanings. It can mean something as simple as 'see you later' or 'thank you'. And often, on my part at least, it's a message that I'll love you forever, and I'll never get tired of this. I'll never get tired of waiting.


You'd wake me up at 5 am. And I could barely make anything of what's happening. It could be your kiss. It could be you shuffling, still asleep. The sadness of parting in a few hours' time. You'd wake me up at 5 am and before we slept, in all my half-asleep sanity, I thought to myself: I love this person so much. 


So tell me. How do you manage to earn the trust I thought I lost forever. How do you get me through a particularly bad day by saying the perfect words, sometimes even none at all. How do you say sorry when you probably know I'm the one at fault. How do you make me flash images of your smile in my head every single time. How do you make someone want to just make everything as perfect as possible for you. How do you make me live for each moment, knowing that it's one second closer to sliding my fingers against yours. How do you do it?


I'd see you go away. Yesterday. The day after. Tomorrow. Something would well up inside of me. And then tears would form. But it's perfecly alright.I made a choice. That choice. To love you no matter what. 

because being strong means being able to say goodbye

i wonder: what is it with me that makes me such a magnet for people who should get a life who want to get into my life?

well, whatever it is, I'm not sure I even care to know.

So here's the thing: i meant this space to be a repository of things running through my mind... you know, all the shit I've always had in my mind but never found anyone to relate them with either because doing so would be socially inappropriate or uncomfortable on my part.

so what would happen if people who claim to know you try to get into that little space you've designated for yourself? That area you've come to love precisely because it's where you feel most comfortable, secure?

you're supposed to close that area down right?

right.

so yeah, that's exactly what i'm going to do. so long folks.

A Delayed Reaction

It's been a custom of mine to sleep every chance i get...sometimes even in class. In law school. Last Friday, people kept telling me how I was too easy a prey for snatchers--I'm always asleep, seem indifferent and place my important stuff in all the wrong places. Later that day, it finally happened: my phone got stolen.

On the venting side:

I absolutely hate how motherfucking thieves are so cunning and take advantage of people like me! People who are too tired from last night studying for an exam. People who are none too richer and who are working their asses off, knowing fully well that life is not fair. And what do they get? Well, to put it bluntly, what's not theirs.

There's something absolutely wrong with the coping mechanism that goes this way: Buti na lang walang masamang nangyari sa'yo. So what, now I actually have to thank the thief who took advantage for not going out of his way to inflict harm on his victim? But alas, we live in a country where we apparently have to be on our toes every single second and pray that nothing more harmful than getting one's belongings stolen happens to us.

On a seemingly unrelated note, let me just say: I hate how this country's elites (who go way back from the Spanish and/or American times, exerting their good time and effort sucking up to aliens) are practically running this country's government...and how many of the poverty-stricken (some of them aren't even poor to begin with!) have taken the streets for their thieving hands.

On a somewhat romantic note:

Actually, the moment I found out my phone was stolen, I didn't give a rat's ass about where or how I lost it. I immediately thought: Shit. I can't remember his cellphone number!

And so I spent the remaining time of travel for trying to mash together random numbers in my mind in the remote chance that somewhere along the trail, I'll come up with the perfect permutation that is, his number.

I didn't. What happened was, I got home, was scolded by my mom, and waited for him to show up in the one place I know he would. He did. And just like that, all the problems went away. No shit. It's amazing, how a conversation with someone miles away can just take it all away with one simple hello. Literally.

Why am I even writing about an event that happened almost a week ago?

Two things:

1. I am tired of reading about Legal Profession aka What-You-Shouldn't-Think-of-Doing-When-You-Get-There. Or stressing over an upcoming exam, for that matter. I think I've gotten to the point where I'm just tired of studying all the time. And what's weird is, I don't even study all the time!

2. I am counting the days, literally, before I get to see him again. Waiting. It's like suspending reality for that one or two days of genuine happiness, of the consummation of this thing we have. Or, actually, it's more like suspending the drone of everyday nothingness for those two days where I get to see and touch and hear this reality of loving him.

Fallen

Remember how I said last time that I would try to be more careful? Calculating? That I will make sure every step is well thought of?

I realize now that it's complete bullshit. "Falling" is about letting myself go and allowing that inexplicably warm and nervous feeling to take over. There's warmth because it's something you've never allowed yourself to feel for anyone: because for as long as I can recall, there was only cold distance between me and all the others. And then there's nervousness. Because, like a little child, I've given myself totally and selflessly to the mercy of that other person.

And I choke. I choke whenever I think that there's possibly too little of the overwhelming flood of emotions that I really feel. But what can I do? Human actions aren't remotely close to what love, in its abstract yet very real sense, is.

Perhaps I am overreacting. Maybe compensating for the insufficiency of words and actions. Through it all, the fact remains: something in me, something bigger than myself, stirs at the realization that I am, finally and without question, in love. With the greatest guy, no less.