I'm still alive, jsyk

I haven't been around for a while, and it's not because my life has taken a dull and uninteresting turn. Quite the contrary: junior year in law school has been a bitch, and until last week, I spent majority of my time with my partner.

I'm happy. I'm with someone who understands the thrust of my humor, my thought processing, and my mundane concerns in life. And this someone...I'm genuinely interested in him, in his happiness, and in his pursuits in life. Plus I find him hot. I wish I can go full circle emo right now, the way I always would in my previous posts. Believe me, I have an arsenal of passionate thoughts I can bombard this post with. But for now, I won't. For a change, I will choose to ride the waves and see where it brings me. I do hope it brings me to the end with him, and that's exactly the direction I'm headed to. (At this junction, the only things that're stopping me from having a happy ending are my paranoid thoughts about getting killed in one way or another no thanks to my Transportation law class).

I wish I had the time to write everything I'd tried for the past few months, amd getting drunk (or so I think) for the first time is one of those. I will have you note that this is such an accomplishment because 1) I don't even like drinking all that much (except when I want a good night's sleep), and 2) I'm 22, a law student, and I've never been drunk. But there will be a time :)

Also, a few of the things I hate right now:

1. Tito Sotto and his stupidity
2. Jesse Robredo dying (The moment I heard he was lost at sea, I was genuinely startled and I had to check for updates re him every now and then.)
3. Gossip in law school, but only when it's directed at me.
4. The lack of pets in my life
5. Getting sucked into the competitiveness of law school life, e.g., having to squint my eyes just to see the grades my professors give me every single time i recite.

There are days I feel like I take a step backward, and wonder what could've happened, and what would've been, if I took an alternate direction. But what's the point, right? This is exactly where I'm supposed to be. And this is precisely what I'm supposed to be doing.

And now I have to end this because I have major stuff coming up, all of which can be defined by one word: exams.

I know, I'm boring. Suck it.

An Ode to Desperate Housewives

In the relatively recent past, I sat through one of the most important 1 hour and 24 minutes of my life...spent watching the season finale of Desperate Housewives.

Yes, I had been watching the series since Episode 1. And yes, I found it interesting enough to watch until the eighth season. And yes, it had been damn amazing.

So right now I feel that I am compelled to write about something that’s meant a lot to me in the latter half of my life thus far. 

Now that’s saying something, because this is the half where (1) I dabbled into drugs (you have to understand that I feel the need to brag about this, to make my life seem marginally exciting,. despite the laughable “amount” that barely had any effect on me), (2) discovered the thrill of loving liking boys and sleeping with the same, and (3) studied like fucking nuts (and now I have to stop trying to enumerate what I’ve done for what I call this latter half, because nothing else of relevance comes to mind).

The point is, through it all, I found time to slip in a few hours (actually that’s a lot of hours, if you add up eight seasons’ worth of 45-minute episodes) to find out what’s happening in Wisteria Lane. Even for the most part I thought I was the only person I knew watching it. And even if Andrew Van De Kamp’s appearances became few and far between.

So anyway. Cheers to Desperate Housewives--by turns absurd, whiny, and unnecessarily dramatic...very much not unlike me. And cheers to Robyn for looking like a man in this video below.

Self-destruction and transformation

I promised I'd write today. I owe this to myself: to write about happy moments I conveniently and often forget, in plain contrast to sorrow which would easily launch me into a writing frenzy.

So today I write, because I'm happy.

I find myself opening up again, completely trusting another person in a way I didn't think I could anymore.  Strange, isn't it? We promise ourselves we'll never love again after a great heartbreak. But once the dust has settled, we draw ourselves back to the search. Maybe it's the way we're wired--we're meant to love.

I'm happy, because I found someone similar yet different. In those differences I can't help but be fascinated in and be drawn to, while in the similarities I find comfort. It just fits. It all works.

But I'm holding my breath. If there's anything I learned from my recent failure, it's that you have to take a step back, look at the big picture, and occasionally pull yourself back to earth. I'm trying to be careful.

One of the ideas presented by Sabina Spielrein, an idea I discovered after watching A Dangerous Method, is that the human sexual drive is about self-destruction and losing one's self in another, but it is also capable of transformation.

As a hopeless romantic and as a person who truly believes sex is for two people who have feelings for each other, I can't help but think that here I am again: possibly in the path of self-destruction, but, at the same time, possibly at the edge of the love that counts.