These last few months have definitely been the most difficult I've had so far. That's probably the biggest understatement of the year. I expected law school to be nothing like my undergrad, sure, but I did not realize how tough it would be on me, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I started law school in a bad place. I just came from a break up literally a few days before school began, and I was feeling so insecure about myself (Am I not pretty enough? Not smart enough? etc etc). I realize now that that is the worst state to be in upon entering law school, because law school will do nothing but make you feel insecure about yourself. I had all these classmates who were cum laudes and magna cum laudes, who got into exchange student programs abroad, and who were active in their orgs and student politics. They all had something going for themselves, something that prepared them better for the study of law. Somehow, my background in literature just did not seem enough.

And on most days, it really wasn't. Just because I had a higher tolerance for lots of readings did not make things any easier for me. In fact, sometimes it just made things worse. When I read short stories or poetry for class, I took the time to take them all in: the characters, the plot, the setting. I tried to do the same for the cases - I tried conjuring up the stories in my head to make them interesting. It worked for the first few weeks. But the amount of cases just kept on piling up that I had no time to completely absorb everything. I had to resort to just skimming through them, or just reading the digests, or worse, skipping them altogether. It seemed like a bad idea, but on some days, I had no other choice.

The recitations took the most time to get used to. Aside from the initial oddness of having to stand up while you recite (something we never did in undergrad), what's worse about the recits is that you are always on the spot. And it almost usually is a one-shot deal. It's either you know the answer to the question or you don't. It's either you get it or you don't. It's either you read it or you didn't. Professors do not always give you a second chance, and even if they do, it does not take away the failure of your first one. The pressure is always there - in class, you never know when you're getting called and how long you're going to be reciting. Some profs ask just one case, while others let you recite for the entire period. It's tough, because professors usually give the highest percentage in the course grade for recits - and of course, no one wants to give a bad impression. But of course, that's bound to happen, sooner or later. It's just a matter of how well you can recover.

The exams, however, are a different creature altogether. I won't go into any more detail, because quite frankly, they really are just one-part MCQs and one-part essay. Nothing new there. But just to give you an idea of what we had to suffer for an entire week (and actually more, if you count the preparations): We only had one exam per day, but each exam lasted from 1:00 to 8:00 pm. Yep. Seven hours.

More than the recitations and exams though, it's the everyday grind that proved most difficult and exhausting. Every single night, we had to read cases and understand them down to the last detail. We had to give up meeting up with friends to prepare for class. At some point, we even had to give up social networking (yep, I deactivated my Facebook for a time), if only to be able to say that all our focus is on acads and acads alone. It was tough. There were days where I would just wake up in the wee hours of the morning, panicking because I spent precious time sleeping when I could have been reading. All my money went to readings. I had no time nor energy to deal with stuff other than law school. I couldn't afford to.

But at the same time, all I wanted to do was escape. For the most part of the semester, I found myself asking if I really wanted this. If this place was only making me miserable, beating up my ego every day and making me feel like the most stupid person I know, then is it worth it? Is it worth the trouble if I don't really enjoy it that much? I thought I wanted to be a lawyer for the longest time - but now that I got in, I started questioning if this was really something I saw myself doing for the rest of my life. I wanted so badly to just go back to the way things were - back when I was in CAL and literary criticism took up most of my time, back when I read and wrote about stories that interested me and that I actually liked. I wanted to feel affirmed and validated again, because every day, law school just found ways to make me question my faith in myself. Every single day.

My blockmates are the probably the biggest factors to the equation. I will never tire of saying how grateful I am to have been in Block D. I always thought that law school would be a highly competitive place, to the point that it will get unhealthy. And considering the number of intelligent people in our class, one would think there can be no room for friends. But the thing about our block is we never feel the need to compete with each other. At least I don't. In fact, it only encourages me to do better. More than that however, I'm glad that we can say we really are good friends. We just click. We get each other. It's the kind of comfort that one truly needs in law school. The amount of ego-bruising we have to go through everyday can only be healed by a certain degree of familiarity and togetherness - and I'm glad our block has that. I can say the same for my group of friends too. There are times where we spent almost all our waking hours together, to the point of clinginess, I guess. But it's comforting on so many levels to just have people who understand you completely, and who believe in what you are capable of. I could not imagine surviving law school without a solid, steady, support group.




Now we're here, at the end of the semester, and I still can't say if I'm over all those insecurities. I probably never will be, not any time soon. (Waiting for the release of our grades isn't helping at all.) But, I guess, for all the difficulties that I've experienced in the last four months or so, I can truly, honestly say, that I did surprise myself quite a lot too. The fact that I've been so down and so depressed only made me realize how there's no other way to go but up. I challenged myself more than I ever did. I pushed myself to work harder. I convinced myself that I was still good enough and smart enough (and yeah, pretty enough, despite all the eyebags) - because I am still here, am I not? Despite all the anxiety and tension, I've managed to pull myself out of bed every single day. And maybe for now, that should be enough. I don't need to be good at it - I just need to feel that it's something that I can take on myself.

My mom was right. Law school may have knocked out the confidence in me, but it also gave me something to fight for. And perhaps this is just what I needed: a struggle not against anyone, but against myself. The first sem is only the beginning of four years of failure and stress. But I have to learn to believe again: that I can do it, that I can rise above this, that I am going to make it through. Even if it's only one day at a time.


First semester, I cannot be more glad that you are over. But I also cannot be more thankful. Here's to looking forward to the next one. (P.S. Please be kinder.)


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Labels: block D, law school

I've said this before, but I don't mind saying it again and again: One of the things I'm most thankful for in the last few months is that I've met some of the smartest and most awesome people I know in Block D. I can't stress how much I love being in this block. One would think that law school breeds only contempt and competition but, no, for some odd reason, we all just click.

We're Tagaytay-bound in a while. I can't wait! We definitely all deserve this so, so much. :)

Sembreak, let's get it on!
(corollary: Birthday week, let's get it oooon!)


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Labels: block D, law school

Koi No Yokan is a truly beautiful concept. It can be defined as the sense one can have upon first meeting another person that the two of them are going to fall in love. In other words, it is the knowledge one has that he/she is going to fall in love with another person. This differs from the idea “love at first sight” in that it does not imply that the feeling of love exists, rather it refers to the knowledge that a future love is inevitable.

(Untranslateable Words; High Tower Flashes)

I decided to be kind to myself this morning and listened to the new singles from Deftones' upcoming album, Koi No Yokan. I've been wondering for a while now what that title meant, but I've never really gotten around to searching for it. Until today.

Koi no yokan. Isn't it such an overwhelmingly beautiful concept? The idea of just... knowing?



(And now back to Persons.)

that doubts what I can do and what I am capable of - well, it's gotten louder and louder the last few weeks. I feel like I've lost the ability to believe in the lucidity of my decisions lately. And while there's this other voice that tells me, No, you're doing the right thing, the other one just keeps going, What's the point? 

And that scares me. Because I want it to have a point. I know everything has a point. So why can't I see it yet?


(This is my Karla vs. Consti: The Final Showdown fears speaking at 4:40 am.)

But loving him was red.

...against feelings?

One More Night - Stars

You'll never touch him again so get what you can 
Leaving him empty just because he's a man 
So good when it ends, they'll never be friends 
One more night, that's all they can spend

he did the arm lock to attack all her weak points, which he still knew: feet, waist, armpits, wrists, and everything in between. and laughing didn't even feel wrong, just confusing in a comforting kind of way, because it was 2010 again that night.


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Labels: bullets

She looks at him, on the floor, and he is not looking back, for he is sleeping, he is away, he is somewhere else she couldn't hurt him. Maybe that's where he should stay, and maybe that's where she should want him to be. But she looks at the empty seat beside her and all she can think of is, What's taking so long?

Labels: bullets

Would you look at that, an actual weekend for once! I finally watched The Phantom of the Opera with my mom, papa, and tita (who took this picture) tonight. I've been waiting so long to have a break, and what better way to spend it than with an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical?

We last saw Phantom in 2009 at The Venetian in Las Vegas. But the performance tonight at the CCP was just as good, if not better. The actors were a delight to watch, and the overall effect of the sound and the set was a sensory feast. The only thing that puts the Las Vegas production a bit above this one was that the theater itself was built for Phantom, hence a bigger set and a much more realistic chandelier. Other than that, however, I found this production with much more pathos and bravado. I thought the performers were much better singers too, and every song was a delight to hear and see live.

(By the way, can I just say that in that scene where Phantom was forcing Christine into the wedding dress, all I could think of was, "But that marriage couldn't possibly be valid! For one, there's lack of consent on Christine's part! And where's the solemnizing officer?" Yes, yes, because that's how much I love Persons.)

I'm not regretting spending my weekend on this. Not at all.


No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears.

Finally. There's reason to hang on to this. I really needed that affirmation, especially right now.

And because of that, this: some of my closest friends in the block. I owe these guys a lot - for the productive study sessions, for the Maroon 5 LSS, for the bacon, for the extremely clingy kind of friendship. I am really not complaining.





Also, Nutella soup. NUTELLA SOUP. Nutella freakin' soup.





Off to have our class' breakfast consultation with our Consti prof at Via Mare. Yep, Via Mare for breakfast. Silver linings, silver linings.

It drives one crazy. It takes one on the edge. It dangles in front of one the possibility of redemption, yet it also threatens one with the very realistic notion of defeat. It's sweet mental torture.

(1) For the first time in a while, it isn't a rainy morning. The sky is not quite blue yet, just a shy shade of lilac still waiting for the grays to fade away. (2) It is marvelous how the chaos of a room looks comforting under the semi-darkness of early morning. (3) Blankets are on the floor again; the body speaks the truth in sleep: one has accepted that there isn't always comfort in warmth. (4) There is an overwhelming feeling of control when one chooses to eat breakfast at 4:21, when the clock looks at you and says "It's too early for that," but you take a bite anyway. (5) Much more empowering is thinking of other food while taking a bite. It is as if you are saying "Just because you are here doesn't mean it is you that I think about." (6) Being dramatic over a slice of bread is a symptom of stress and exhaustion. (7) But it can also mean being alone has been embraced again, that the idea of talking to yourself and no one being there to listen isn't so bad anymore. (8) Being alone is a circumstance. Feeling alone, however, is a different story. (9) The sky is blue now.


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Labels: bullets

Been stuck indoors with my blockmates for the last few days now. I'm more than grateful that I have these guys with me to (1) keep me awake and studying when I'm feeling distracted, (2) distract me when the cases get too much to handle, and (3) just make me feel safe. While we're grateful for the suspension because it gave us more time to prepare for our Midterms (*dun dun dun*), it also meant higher expectations from our profs because we did have more time. Trying to stay awake in this kind of weather isn't exactly the easiest thing to do. But we're doing fine so far - it's better than being alone and fighting the battle by yourself.

The weather's getting better though. I hope everyone else is alright. And I hope we all find the time to help out in the relief operations. :)

GPOY Saturday. So after an entire day of studying (and having my hair up in a messy bun), this happened. I have always resisted the idea of embracing (my actually) wavy hair, but this looks fairly decent, don't you think?

What a wonderful surprise, good hair day. Come by more often, please? I kinda need the ego boost. :))

"Shorn of any reference to psychology, we conclude that we have here a case of parties who have very human faults and frailties; who have been together for some time; but who are now tired of each other.

[...] To be tired and to give up on one's situation and on one's husband however are not necessarily signs of psychological illness; neither can falling out of love be so labeled."

- So vs. Valera (GR No. 150677)

Labels: law school

Guess who won as Best Block for Freshie Week?

Let's go Block D! #DisforDomination #1D #oneDirection :)))))

Yes, despite the amount of schoolwork we have to deal with, the first years had time for this. I honestly didn't think how anyone could decide to hold events in the middle of July in law school, but as if we haven't already been "initiated" enough, we had our Freshie Week, a competition between freshman blocks that included games and activities such as debate, Amazing Races, quiz bees, and obstacle relays for an entire week. Our block held a commanding lead all throughout, and we won big in the major events during the last night, including 2nd place for Ms. Freshie (Malcolm's version of Ms. Eng'g), and 1st place for the block performance (Spice Girls!!!). We only prepared for these the night before because we had our first major exam to worry about first, but we managed to pull through. So, woot woot! \:D/

I couldn't possibly be any luckier that I am part of this diverse, talented, and incredibly intelligent mix of people. A lot of days I feel like giving up, but really, these people make me want to try harder and always keep pushing - if only to prove to myself that I deserve to stay in the company of such wonderful friends.

Saturday was a fun night. It just goes to show that there really is life in law school, if you just look hard enough. It's fun, and it's not such a horrible place to be in. The people around you are just as stressed and just as defeated, but they're just as game and sabaw as well. It's always comforting to realize that you're all on the same boat, just getting by everyday with a little sense of humor and a little more pluckiness. It's nice to have nights like this to remind us that we're still human beings and that we can all let our guards down for a while and see each other like normal people again.


(Then Sunday night comes and suddenly, it's back to regular programming. What a downer - the weather isn't helping.)

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Labels: law school

I was quietly grocery shopping at the nearby supermarket when they started playing Justin Bieber's "Baby."

Thought you'd always be mine, mine.


Oh God, why.

Yesterday, I've been afforded a law school miracle by way of suspension of classes. Our prof for Legal Methods decided to not hold class due to the inclement weather and for the first time in a long while, I had faith in the universe again. No kidding. I seriously needed that break.

Law school is tough. I'm saying this as plainly and simply as it could get - because what else is there to say? It just really is difficult, period. I thought I loved it enough, I thought I wanted it enough. But apparently, no amount of Ally McBeal and Suits can ever make one prepared for what's out here. In the TV shows, we never see the lawyers reading cases, and we hardly ever hear them complain about getting called for a bad recitation or a failing mark. (Well, they sure don't talk about their law school experiences, do they?) Sure, they lose in court or they get yelled at by clients. But at the end of the day, they have their swanky offices or hot, muscled co-workers to affirm them - and balance is restored. Their egos remain intact, and all is right in the world again.

Meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out how to just get through everyday.

Suddenly, my days have been divided into either reading cases or reciting them. I hardly have time for sleep. My bookshelves are already getting filled with readings, and we're barely halfway into the semester. All my money's being spent on photocopied cases. I rarely ever see people outside law school anymore.

It's exhausting. Law school is hardly forgiving - one never feels like you've done enough, one never feels like you're deserving of anything. It's like a jealous, clingy mistress, they say. It eats you up, it tears you apart. It can get to you - especially deep into the night, like while you're reviewing for an impossible exam with 137 cases, and you realize you only have three hours before class - it can really get to you; it can make you question what you want and why you want them. It can make you feel like maybe all the mental, emotional, and physical torture's just not worth it; you'd rather keep your sanity than pride.

Sometimes, I think, when will it get easier? Will it ever? Sometimes, I wish I still had someone to share all this with, so that at the very least I'd have an anchor, some constant I can hold onto. It can all get so frustrating that perhaps even just fingers in between mine would suffice and give things a sense of being kept together. And then sometimes, I just resign myself to the thought that perhaps I'm better off handling all this on my own than having someone who would probably not understand anyway.

I'm tired, yes. I'm confused, yes. But I'm also still just here. I have nowhere to go and have no place else to be.  I earned my spot here. I have no choice but to muddle through the best way I can and just get going. Maybe it's going to get better soon enough, maybe it won't. But at least despite everything I'm uncertain of right now, there is one thing I'm sure of, one thing that cannot be denied: I'm here.

And I guess I'm staying.


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Labels: law school

CRUZ, J., concurring:

Instead of merely affixing my singature to signify my concurrence, I write this separate opinion simply to say I have nothing to add to Justice Irene R. Cortes' exceptionally eloquent celebration of the right of information on matters of public concern.

(from Valmonte vs. Belmonte, Jr.)

O di ba. Pwede namang, "I concur" na lang kung hindi rin naman pala marami yung sasabihin. But noooo, he just had to say this. May masabi lang talaga eh. :)) 



(This is basically what has become of me lately - finding humor in the most hopeless of places: cases. #ohgodwhy)

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Labels: law school

of trying, but never really getting there.

- has been taking away sleep and rest from me, loading me with too many cases (on average, around 60-70 a week), and making me feel like the most inadequate person in the world.

I should know better than feeling sad about people choosing to walk away, people deciding you no longer exist, people suddenly realizing you're no longer worth their time. I should already know by now that what my friends and family are speaking are gospel truth: that I don't deserve such kind of treatment, that I am much better off, that there is nothing to be sorry or depressed about because at least I found out soon enough that there are people not worthy of me. It was a lie, it wasn't real. It was a mistake. It was bound to happen. 

 


For Women Who Are Difficult to Love by Warsan Shire

You are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?


closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.


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Labels: poetry

I found out last night from a friend who works at the Inquirer that an article of mine is to be published today on Youngblood. I actually did not believe it at first because I could not remember if I submitted anything recently. And then he told me to check the website that midnight, and to expect something at the newsstands this morning.

I have actually posted this essay on this blog a few months before, prior to graduation. It's a piece that I included in my undergraduate thesis, and I now remember that I sent it to Youngblood after having it written it some time last semester. I wasn't expecting anything out of it, really, I just felt like putting it out there I suppose.

And now, there it is. With my name on the byline. This is the first time I get to be published on a national daily - and that is why I'm absolutely thrilled! :3 My family from both sides rushed to get several copies, actually! It's true what they say, that no matter how many times a work of yours gets published anywhere, on paper or on the Web, there will always be that rush.

Here's to great beginnings and great places.

"The familiar shades of green and gray welcomed me as the jeep took a right to the Acad Oval that I have always called my own. The sun said hello in between the leaves’ shadows that hit my legs, and it was as comforting as always. Despite the frantic rush that this campus thrives in every day, there is always a quiet reassurance that greets me once I catch a glimpse of its lush trees and its people. This was how it felt like when I was a soon-to-be freshman. And this is the way it has been since, myself looking on with much calm as the greenness of the university embraces me..."

- from Postcard from Diliman, Youngblood. Philippine Daily Inquirer. Tuesday, May 29, 2012.

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Labels: featured, UP

"Don't worry, Ms. Bernardo, I assure you that you are an English major."

- Sir Paolo Manalo

This, after people from *certain offices in the University that I will not mention* asserted yesterday that I am not an English major because the word "English" does not appear in "Creative Writing."

And that "misunderstanding" almost cost me Php 4,500 and my enrollment into second-year law.


Thanks for coming to the rescue, Sir Paolo! :))

I came back to UP this week to claim my clearance and transcript of records, only to find out that I've been under-assessed a few years back (I know right, how could they let me graduate?). And after settling all that, I then discovered I had some deficiencies in the College of Law.

In a span of two days I've gone back and forth all over the campus, arguing, asking, confirming, appealing, and at the end of the day I'm dead tired and still in the same situation I started in. I got really frustrated and started cursing under my breath, really - not because this is the first time, but precisely because, it isn't. I've done this before - the entire "UP-treating-you-like-a-ping-pong-ball"; letting you go to this place only to be asked to go back to the previous place, then ending up not getting anything done. It sucks that they don't always have a very streamlined process of getting things done, like they're all guessing what to do just as well. It doesn't help that all these buildings they make you go to are located on opposite sides of the campus. It just gets really tiresome, both physically and emotionally, to be dragged around by people who, while doing their best to actually help you, sometimes are not sure either.

And then, in the middle of one of my walks from the OUR (Registrar) to Law, a mother and daughter approached me, asking me the way to the Registrar's office. While I was pointing to her mother the way (which was more difficult than you would expect, really. It's hard to direct non-UP people inside the campus because UP students don't use the names of the streets but rather the buildings), I noticed the girl looking up in awe at the trees that lined the Oval. Both of them looked tired and sweaty from all the walking, I suppose, and the shade that they now took refuge in somehow felt like a relief for her. For all I knew, in her head she could be saying, "Thank God for the shade of these trees. Ang init!" but I swear sixteen-year-old me would have recognized that look in an instant. It wasn't so much relief as it was anticipation.

It's the look that said, "Thank God for the shade of these trees! And these buildings! And these people! Omgomgomg I'm so excited to be here! I can't wait!"

And for a moment, deficiencies and under-assessments notwithstanding, I remembered.



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Off to appeal at the College of Law with other new friends/incoming first year Law students. Classes haven't even started yet and already we're planning on filing a letter regarding some misunderstanding about the units required to be admitted to the college. It's a long story, but wish us luck! :)

"One particularly interesting line of thought examines the difference between originality in science and originality in art — a refreshing complement to last week’s tangential musings on the subject by Mark Twain and Henry Miller.

If I discover a scientific idea, surely someone else would’ve discovered the same idea had I not done so. Whereas, look at Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” — if he didn’t paint “Starry Night,” nobody’s gonna paint “Starry Night.” So, in that regard, the arts are more individual to the creative person than a scientific idea is to the one who comes up with it — but, nonetheless, they are both human activities.'"

- Neil deGrasse Tyson on why we’re wired for science & how originality differs in science vs. art from Brain Pickings

Sometimes, a part of me still wonders what would have happened if I never stopped liking science - or more accurately, if it never stopped liking me.

They may all seem alienating now, but there truly was a time in my life when physics, biology, geometry, and everything else in between fascinated me. Not that they don't anymore. It's just that reality somehow got in the way, leading me to a point where regardless of whether or not I still find the said fields interesting, I'm not equipped with the skills to appreciate them the way they should be appreciated.

In high school, while I recognized that I was never the best in math or science, and that those will never be my expertise, I considered myself somewhat good enough in them - or at least interested enough to want to learn about them, even when my grades did not always reflect that. I loved physics class. I looked forward to our bio experiments. I also enjoyed algebra and geometry a lot. In fact, I found myself more likely to pursue a a course in the sciences rather than in the arts. In our career assessment exam, I had industrial engineering come out as the second ideal course. (First was accounting/economics, third was humanities/social sciences.) So despite the apparent difficulty I did have with the field, I was sure the feelings I had for it will always be mutual.

But chemistry and statistics ultimately ruined it all for me. Since the second year, I never got the hang of balancing equations and connecting bonds between dots, even when I tried hard to stay awake in class by connecting eyes with our Chem professor (and eventually our Biochem professor in the senior year). And in my fourth year, I ended up hating any colored ball because of the questions that go along the lines of, "If a box had 3 red balls, 5 yellow balls, and 2 blue balls, what was the possibility..." Blech.

This antagonism unfortunately happened in the last few years of high school, when choosing our courses became almost inescapable. Despite my brief excitement over calculus thanks to Cady Heron's "The limit does not exist!" epiphany in Mean Girls, it was a relief for me to finally say goodbye to the sciences upon entering college. A huge relief.

Besides, I felt it was a much braver move, going against the norm and pursuing the arts. English and literature has always been my favorite subject, no contest, so to go to that field would prove to be satisfying, albeit unconventional for most. I remember one teacher, with a sour face, asking me, "Why Creative Writing?" To which only the voice inside my head could reply, "So that I wouldn't have to deal with all your f*ckin' chemicals, b*tch!" (Although I don't think I was that profane then. Haha.)

It's still sad though that a lot of people, myself included, feel this alienation and go through this stage of suddenly having to choose between sciences and the arts. I'm certain they can go together, and I really think they should. But there has always been this mindset that you're either this or that - you can't be both, or you can't be in between. And yes, I used to think I could prove that wrong: that being good in humanities doesn't mean you can't be an awesome physicist. It still saddens me, I guess, that I have fallen victim to that statistic.

So when college happened, it was as if I was on this conscious effort to prove the sciences wrong - that they were wrong to push me away, that they were wrong to judge me so quickly just because I didn't always get the hang of solving things. I had finally found mutual respect and love from art. And while it also hasn't been a smooth-sailing ride, it was nice to at least be nestled comfortably in a seat of words and rhythms, patiently waiting for their meanings to unfold to me on my own pace.

But every once in a while, my hidden/suppressed love for the sciences still emerge, albeit in random ways. Like taking Physics10 (it had everything I loved in the subject without the computation! Just the concepts! Which I had no problem in reading about!) or acing Math1 and Math2 (more practical maths). Or randomly reading about theories, laws, and how stuff works in Wikipedia (lately, more about engines and cars - for obvious reasons). Or unconsciously being attracted to Engineering students who talk geeky to me. (Heehee.)

I have long accepted that my "left side" will never be as dominant as I once thought it to be. I'm now fully aware (and grateful) that it's the "right" that gets the job done for me most of the time - and I cannot be more glad. I have found my greatest comfort and strength in stringing together feelings in sentences, rather than equations in solutions. But I guess, and I hope, that the "left" will not completely go away. I find that there is much strength to be found in the attraction of the arts and the sciences, and that there is but a small, fine line that separates the two. I guess I've come to the point where I know that while I can no longer speak the language of the sciences, it doesn't mean I cannot understand it. And I also now realize that just because art is fluid and relative, it has no space for specifics and detail. Seeing them come together makes sense - I just wish both of them cooperating in my head isn't too much to ask for.

I hope I never lose my interest and skill in the field of science and math, even in the most basic extent. After all, it did get me through the recent wave of exams for law school. And I'm sure that won't be the last time I would need that same push. I'm still crossing my fingers that one day, I'd still get to prove the theory wrong myself: yes, there is a place for poetry in physics, and that there is precision and accuracy, even in prose.

I'm thinking the title is a dead giveaway but it's been playing in my head ever since this morning and I can't find it in me to ignore Brandon Boyd's voice singing.

Yes, today I drove for the first time. And what a feeling it was.

It has always been this unspoken given that I will learn to drive eventually. In high school they said I shall learn when I get to college, when I got to college they said when I turned 18, when I turned 18 they said after graduation. However, regardless of the constant pushing of these so-called "deadlines," I didn't find the need to rush into it - it was going to happen somehow anyway. That was for sure.

Add to that the fact that I found no immediate need to learn how to drive. My parents have no plans of buying me a car anytime soon, and although we randomly toss the idea around in conversations, it's not something definite, or at least not something that's in the foreseeable future. I am also a dormer, which makes my commute to and from UP relatively easier. When I do go back home in the south, I take the MRT to Ayala and from there meet up with my parents in the Makati area where they will fetch me after their work. Also, I secretly do enjoy the whole "I don't drive because I'm meant to be driven," shtick I give to my friends when they tease me to ask Rainier to let me drive his car.

But admittedly, the reason I did not mind the delay was because a part of me was also scared - scared that despite everything I was supposed to know about automobiles and driving (mostly thanks to Rainier who is obsessed with them, and has in fact designed and built two cars already) I also knew absolute nothing. I have no previous experience in driving - nay, I have no experience in any kind of moving vehicle at all. I can't even bike, for crying out loud! And the first (and last time) I rode an ATV for Geog Camp, I almost crashed into a tree (almost killing the aforementioned boy who sat behind me, out of fear, but mostly out of kilig, I suppose, although that's for another blog entry altogether).

As a result, I had all these preconceived notions about running into concrete barriers, having the engine die out on me, turning at the wrong time, crashing again into a tree - a whole slew of scenarios probably expected from clumsy, awkward, panicky me.

However when I started the ignition this morning, while finding the right balance between stepping on the gas and releasing the clutch, I just found this overwhelming sense of ease. Like this was something I was supposed to do, like this was something natural to me.

Perhaps I can credit it to maturity or to Brandon Boyd's singing in my head, but it just didn't seem as frightening as I expected the first time to be. It turned out much better than I was picturing all these years in my imagination. And when I was finally making the turns, shifting gears, and getting out there on the main road, it was like all fears just went splat! on the windshield as if to say, "There's nothing to be afraid of, really."

Well, of course there is. Like people suddenly flashing the hand of God when crossing the street from out of nowhere, or when motorcycles suddenly cut in front of you even when you have your signal on, or jeepneys randomly stopping in front of you. But to have avoided all these during my first time without much difficulty - that was quite thrilling. It was like for the first time in a long time, I had control of the situation, and I successfully maneuvered out of it.

It's no secret that the last few months prior to graduation (and to the result of the law school entrance exams) have been very tough on me. It took a toll on me physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was hoping this summer was going to give back the confidence I felt I lost in the process of finishing my thesis and complying with all my requirements.

Last week, I returned to Bangkok. The last time I was there was in 2008, the summer before college. Finding myself there again after four years, it was like coming full circle. I was in the same place again: on the brink of a major change in my life. I was surprised at how a lot of things inside me still remain unchanged after four years - the excitement enveloped in fear, the optimism coupled with reluctance.

But today, I felt I got the push I needed to get me out of this uncertainty I've been carrying with me lately. I came face-to-face with an actual, tangible enemy: the road. And having it stretch out in front of me for me to actually take on, that proved to be liberating. The moment I set myself in motion, I realized that while the fear may never completely go away, it does not mean I can't get around it either.

I guess the same goes for law school, and the rest of my future. And because there really is no other way to end this other than to wrap it up with the song, I say (and sing!) with much conviction: Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there, with open arms and open eyes, yeah.


___


* A line from the song Drive by Incubus

So in the last few weeks, I (1) have graduated from college which means I (2) have attended and held grad dinners and parties [read: ate a lot of food] in celebration of our right of passage, but which also means I (3) am now officially unemployed, though not for long because I (4) am soon to enter law school and is in fact secretly anticipating the torture about to come my way. Meanwhile, however, I (5) am enjoying the freedom I still have by relishing the fact that I (6) just got a student's license which means I (7) now have a legitimate ID that says I am indeed above eighteen years old [yes, it is always a problem for me, proving my age] but most importantly also means I (8) will be taking driving lessons soon - probably after we get back from Bangkok next week. In the meantime, I (9) am finishing an article for a small writing gig I just scored a few days ago, while looking for other furniture I can put in the new room I (10) just moved into.

So that has been my summer so far.

So hello, May. What else have you got up your sleeve?

Labels: CW, graduation, UP

The familiar shade of green and gray welcomed me as the jeep took a right to the Acad Oval that I have always called my own. The sun said hello in between the shadows of leaves that hit my legs, and it was comforting the way it always is. Despite the frantic rush that this campus thrives in everyday, there is always a quiet reassurance that greets me once I catch a glimpse of the lush trees and the people below them. This was how it felt like the first time I looked at it through the eyes of a soon-to-be freshman. And this was the way it has been since, me looking on with much calm as the greenness of the university embraces me.

Labels: UP

It's been a week since I submitted my thesis at the Department of English and Comparative Literature. It's been five days since I last emailed my final requirement for the last semester of my college life. It's been two days since I found out I also passed in Ateneo Law. Let's just say I'm well into my vacation now, and I have a lot of reasons to rejoice.

Quite frankly, I really am overwhelmed. This was the moment I've been working for the last four years of my life - the part I can finally say "Finally!" and not bat an eyelash, not lose a wink of sleep. This is real now. It's here. College is ending. Things are finally coming to a close, and another chapter is just about to begin. It's hard to resist reveling in relief and excitement.

But four years ago, I was expecting to welcome this rather differently. I thought I was going to be partying with friends, or frolicking in the beach, or flying on a plane to somewhere exotic - something big, something grand, to actually encapsulate my feelings of happiness.

Instead, here I am in my grandmother's house in Batangas for Holy Week, enjoying spending my nights talking to my grandparents instead of staying on the Internet. (There isn't any Internet in the first place, just some... leeching...)

And I could not be more glad. Four years ago, I thought happiness meant noise. I thought happiness meant exiting with a big bang. But if there is anything I learned in the last four years, it's that sometimes the best moments are celebrated in the quietest of ways. It's in seeing the beauty of lying in bed at two in the afternoon, huddled up with only a good book and your pair of eyeglasses, and realizing you have the rest of the day to finish all the books you brought with you, and then some. Happiness is getting a short good night call welcoming the first of the month. Happiness is being at your friend's house with your high school barkada to comfort her while eating Gardenia bread and laughing about people you know, finding strength in just your togetherness.

I don't need the grand stuff to feel grateful, I don't need the loudness to affirm how much I deserve being this happy and contented. I'm thankful, really extremely incredibly thankful, for everything I have in my life right now. No one else needs to see that in high-res pictures on social networking sites for it to be true.

So no, thank you, I can do without the grandeur for now. For now let me thank the universe in my simple, quiet way - and I'll let it give me my fireworks in its own great timing.


:)

Labels: law school, UP

Happy birthday, Papa!

I am one of the rare few who gets to talk to my dad about a lot of things, from how sushi is made to how long it took for the London Tube to be constructed in the 1890s. Papa is not the man of few words - he has a lot to say, and that's because he knows a lot. He is the kind that buys hardbound history books about the Byzantine empire and the type that downloads apps of newspapers from different parts of the world. He is the kind of person who will explain to you how turbines and power plants (and other engineering-related stuff) work, but also he is first to find out about all the latest movies. He never shied away from discovering things old and new, he never stepped away from an opportunity to find out about certain things and discuss what he thinks of them. I guess in many ways, he has set for me the standard of what it is to have a good conversation with an intelligent man. He would never make you feel like you don't know anything, yet at the same time, each talk will leave you with something more than what you began it with.
In a lot of ways, my dad has been a friend and a confidante. While others consider their father a stern, quiet presence in their lives, Papa has been this animated, lively figure that I look up to for his wit, his confidence, and his smarts. He is funny, he is generous, and he is kind. He has taught me a lot of things about life not through long lectures but over (almost) sleepless nights of just watching DVDs together (much to my mom's dismay) or mornings eating pandesal and peanut butter. And that is what I will always be grateful for - the fact that we don't need grand gestures to be able to see eye-to-eye on things. We can just talk and talk and talk, and we would never get tired.
Happy birthday to one of the people I have the best conversations with! (The other, of course, being Mom) Love you, Papa! :)

I'm usually not one to go out of my way to get the newest gadget - in fact, the last time I remember explicitly wanting one was four years ago in 2008, right after my high school graduation. It was a laptop, a NEO Empriva 572SVB, which I set my eyes on, primarily because I was about to enter college and figured I really needed a laptop, but mostly because it came in pink - hot pink. And that's saying a lot about my usual taste in gadgets - the only requirement I really care about having is if it comes in pink. Rarely do I go out of my limb to score something because of its other fancier specs (which is how it really should be, but I'm weird like that.) Also, if anything, my "gadgets" are mostly just hand-me-downs from my dad. I usually just get whatever it is he has already replaced or got tired of. (And of course, I'm not complaining.)

Anyway, that laptop, my Pink Ranger, carried me all throughout the next four years of college - well, almost. Just a few months ago, its hinges went loose, probably because of the everyday wear-and-tear I've exposed it to. It had come to a point where the screen could no longer support itself and to use it, I had to have a stack of books or a wall behind it. It was in a terribly sad, sorry state and it hurt to even look at it. So I asked my dad to - no, not buy me a new one - but have it repaired instead. I figured there may be no need for a new one, especially since the software, which is more important, remains in good condition. I borrowed his laptop in the meantime, just to get me through the last month of the semester, since he's mainly using his iPad for work anyway.

Last week, my dad brought up this new tablet-slash-laptop that Asus has just released a few months ago, the Asus Eee Transformer Prime. Being the gadget/techie addict that he is (I swear, he just knows everything), I wasn't surprised that he was suddenly teasing us about buying one. Normally I would let it slide, but this time I got curious and decided to look it up. It had been getting great reviews from various blogs and gadget enthusiasts. It runs on Android, with its latest version running on Ice Cream Sandwich - which explains its user-friendliness and effortless maneuverability. But of course, its biggest asset is in its "transformer" powers - with the accompanying keyboard, the tablet automatically transforms into a working laptop. One thing that greatly discourages me from even considering getting a tablet is its lack of an actual, tactile keyboard, which is a must with all the papers I have to do. The fact that this one has a detachable keyboard is in itself a great plus. An added bonus is that the keyboard also acts like a dock, so with the tablet attached to it, the former can charge. Together, they can stay on for almost eighteen hours - that is amazing battery power right there! But even with the two components together it probably just weighs a little over the typical iPad, which still makes it light and ideal for mobility. It also boasts of an 8-megapixel outer camera - YES EIGHT MEGAPIXELS - and a 1.2-megapixel secondary camera for video calls. Both the keyboard and the tablet each have memory card slots, with the keyboard having an extra USB slot. And one of the best things about it is that it goes for about $499 - much, much cheaper than a lot of other tablets and laptops/netbooks out there. The only catch was that it doesn't come in pink, but I was sold.

I was half-expecting to get it sometime this April after my graduation, but I found it on my table when Papa came home last night. And oh, was it beautiful! We were both screaming in excitement while we were unboxing it - which my mom found weird, haha! But there really is nothing like opening a new gadget straight out of its box. Suffice to say, in the last 24 hours that I've used it, it hasn't disappointed me yet. Although, it has to be said that this is still essentially a tablet - so it is kind of difficult to multitask (as it typically runs one app at a time, or hides most of them in the background) and certain common features in laptops are absent (such as copy/paste features). But the Ice Cream Sandwich OS tries to go beyond its mere-tablet capabilities and maximizes its potential as a true laptop-replacement. There is a nifty button that shows all the applications running, allowing you to quickly skip from one app to the other. It also comes with pre-loaded programs such as Polaris Office, which is a good enough stand-in for Microsoft, and the Asus Browser, which is similar to the Chrome. Except from the obvious limitations that comes from being a tablet, the Transformer Prime is, so far, exceptional. In the battle of tablet supremacy, with this gadget, hands down, Asus takes the crown.

So here she is, my darling new baby. In line with my fondness to name my gadgets starting with a "P" (my other laptop is Pink Ranger, my iPod classic is Portia, my nook is Porphyria) - I named her Prima. Not so much because of the "Prime," but also because prima in Italian means first, and I really think this one is going to set the trend for what would be soon be a tablet/laptop market. I still can't believe I'm actually typing on it right now - I actually missed being this stoked over a gadget! I'm actually feeling kilig about it :)) I'm still having my first laptop repaired and I'm still going to use it; that'll probably be my "desktop" whereas Prima will be my on-the-go partner. Sounds like a good plan, doesn't it?



Isn't she pretty? :)

(Here's a link to a review of the Transformer Prime, by the way. Check it out!)

In between writing nineteen papers (yes, 19) and trying to revise my thesis, I somehow stumbled upon the link to something I've been waiting for for quite a while now - the short documentary on Sugarfree's "Paalam Pilipinas" farewell concert.

Labels: UP

I just bought a copy of Top Gear PH - again. I don't drive, and I hardly ever consider myself a car enthusiast (unfortunately for me, the love of cars is non-transferable, even when The Boyfriend is competing for automotive contests abroad). But lately I've appreciated the magazine simply for what it brings - good writing on good cars. I may not know enough to understand completely how different a 338hp fares against a 306hp or how exactly traction control works, which essentially should strip me off the "right" to read about such things, but a lot of their pieces are rendered in such a way that these terms hardly get in the way of me understanding a car or the experience of driving it.

A few months ago I also grabbed for myself a copy of the local Esquire magazine, with MVP on the cover. It was mostly because one of my professors, Dr. Dalisay, had an article featured in it. But I was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying the rest of the magazine, even if it was targeted at the male audience. Sure, I probably couldn't care less about brown suits or the leather boat shoes to go with them. Or that there are better drinks (that you can concoct yourself using your stash of leftover alcohol) cozy party with a few buds other than beer. But I did appreciate the way they were written - clean, straightforward, and just the right amount of witty. Good enough for me to keep the magazine and look back on it again from time to time. The same actually goes for the few Top Gear magazines I also bought in the recent past

Meanwhile, I too had my fair share of the usual female magazines out there, that is Preview, Mega, Cosmopolitan and other similarly related reads (mostly bought by my mom at home, several I bought for myself here in the dorm). I will not apologize for the many various reasons I may have given in to these issues, because really, on most days, I just need a break from all the heavy academic reading and just want to look at lipsticks and lingerie without guilt. They do have some of the best fashion editorials and spreads in the country today - I think, given with my limited knowledge on fashion, they can very well compete with publications abroad. The fashion mags, mostly, are also highly promoting of the Filipino talent especially when it comes to fashion design and photography. So I think in the visual aspect, these female-target magazines do their job.

But I hardly get the satisfaction I'm looking for when I read through them. Sure, the pictures are gorgeous, and the variety of clothes/make-up they show (and blatantly require everyone to "have right now!") are completely up-to-date with the trends from overseas - something to give them credit for. But I don't find intriguing, moving writing in any of these pages. Or at least any kind of writing that goes beyond what is required of them. I get it that they are catered specifically for just one market, i.e. Preview for fashionistas, Cosmopolitan for single women, etc. I also recognize the fact that some of them have parent publications abroad, articles from which they have to have in their current issues in order to streamline the offerings all over the world. But do they really have to come out with just recycled,hackneyed fluff? Is there nothing else to talk about other than THIS NEW SKIRT YOU HAVE TO BUY or THIS BOY YOU HAVE TO PLEASE? More accurately, aren't there better ways to write about them?

Top Gear, for example, limits itself to mostly just cars but the way they present their articles always have that level of experience, that touch of humanity in them. You read about the entire driver's experience: how the shiny exterior had him at first glance, how the seat welcomed him upon ignition, how the steering wheel felt in his hands. It gives you so much more than just the specs and how much the car is worth. Of course, their articles are hardly literary, but they're not trash. They're something you can genuinely look back onto, especially those that involve a little bit of travel and culture (when cars are road-tested in various locations, local or international), and sometimes a bit of memoir too (when it reminds them of things past, or evokes something of the future). The apparent subject is there of course (i.e. the vehicle), but there's also some sort of insight - which makes it a more rewarding read on so many levels.

You can argue that shoes don't have much going on for them to elicit such a wordy, descriptive article. But says who? Who says you cannot write about the perfect outfit without the dedication of a car enthusiast? And isn't that the challenge of nonfiction - nay, any kind of writing - anyway? To write something different? To come up with a new approach on things?

One of my classes this semester (and probably my favorite; also the most demanding) is CW141 which is Nonfiction II. It covers speech writing, food writing, profile, travel writing, and the memoir - most of which are the types of nonfiction we find in various magazines. It's no surprise, considering that most of the essays on our reading list actually do come from mag publications: GQ, The Atlantic, The New Yorker, Esquire, and the like. A lot of them were written more than a year ago - one even pertaining to events following the 9/11 attack - but they hardly sound out of fashion or dated. The form and style carried the pieces to a certain degree of timelessness, or at least an extension of relevance for until a next couple of years.

Of course I haven't read all men's magazines to consider them much more superior than their female counterparts. Especially with the recent FHM racism controversy, I hardly think they're the ideal publication to look up to. (I also haven't read FHM, Playboy, or any of that kind of "men's magazine" so that's not part of this equation.) I'm also not judging magazines that feature mostly fashion or photo spreads as second-rate compared to those which feature more pieces of writings. What I'm pointing out however is the seeming disparity between those that do have prose as their foundation, and how starkly different they seem to be, given their market.

These last few months have definitely been the most difficult I've had so far. That's probably the biggest understatement of the year. I expected law school to be nothing like my undergrad, sure, but I did not realize how tough it would be on me, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I started law school in a bad place. I just came from a break up literally a few days before school began, and I was feeling so insecure about myself (Am I not pretty enough? Not smart enough? etc etc). I realize now that that is the worst state to be in upon entering law school, because law school will do nothing but make you feel insecure about yourself. I had all these classmates who were cum laudes and magna cum laudes, who got into exchange student programs abroad, and who were active in their orgs and student politics. They all had something going for themselves, something that prepared them better for the study of law. Somehow, my background in literature just did not seem enough.

And on most days, it really wasn't. Just because I had a higher tolerance for lots of readings did not make things any easier for me. In fact, sometimes it just made things worse. When I read short stories or poetry for class, I took the time to take them all in: the characters, the plot, the setting. I tried to do the same for the cases - I tried conjuring up the stories in my head to make them interesting. It worked for the first few weeks. But the amount of cases just kept on piling up that I had no time to completely absorb everything. I had to resort to just skimming through them, or just reading the digests, or worse, skipping them altogether. It seemed like a bad idea, but on some days, I had no other choice.

The recitations took the most time to get used to. Aside from the initial oddness of having to stand up while you recite (something we never did in undergrad), what's worse about the recits is that you are always on the spot. And it almost usually is a one-shot deal. It's either you know the answer to the question or you don't. It's either you get it or you don't. It's either you read it or you didn't. Professors do not always give you a second chance, and even if they do, it does not take away the failure of your first one. The pressure is always there - in class, you never know when you're getting called and how long you're going to be reciting. Some profs ask just one case, while others let you recite for the entire period. It's tough, because professors usually give the highest percentage in the course grade for recits - and of course, no one wants to give a bad impression. But of course, that's bound to happen, sooner or later. It's just a matter of how well you can recover.

The exams, however, are a different creature altogether. I won't go into any more detail, because quite frankly, they really are just one-part MCQs and one-part essay. Nothing new there. But just to give you an idea of what we had to suffer for an entire week (and actually more, if you count the preparations): We only had one exam per day, but each exam lasted from 1:00 to 8:00 pm. Yep. Seven hours.

More than the recitations and exams though, it's the everyday grind that proved most difficult and exhausting. Every single night, we had to read cases and understand them down to the last detail. We had to give up meeting up with friends to prepare for class. At some point, we even had to give up social networking (yep, I deactivated my Facebook for a time), if only to be able to say that all our focus is on acads and acads alone. It was tough. There were days where I would just wake up in the wee hours of the morning, panicking because I spent precious time sleeping when I could have been reading. All my money went to readings. I had no time nor energy to deal with stuff other than law school. I couldn't afford to.

But at the same time, all I wanted to do was escape. For the most part of the semester, I found myself asking if I really wanted this. If this place was only making me miserable, beating up my ego every day and making me feel like the most stupid person I know, then is it worth it? Is it worth the trouble if I don't really enjoy it that much? I thought I wanted to be a lawyer for the longest time - but now that I got in, I started questioning if this was really something I saw myself doing for the rest of my life. I wanted so badly to just go back to the way things were - back when I was in CAL and literary criticism took up most of my time, back when I read and wrote about stories that interested me and that I actually liked. I wanted to feel affirmed and validated again, because every day, law school just found ways to make me question my faith in myself. Every single day.

My blockmates are the probably the biggest factors to the equation. I will never tire of saying how grateful I am to have been in Block D. I always thought that law school would be a highly competitive place, to the point that it will get unhealthy. And considering the number of intelligent people in our class, one would think there can be no room for friends. But the thing about our block is we never feel the need to compete with each other. At least I don't. In fact, it only encourages me to do better. More than that however, I'm glad that we can say we really are good friends. We just click. We get each other. It's the kind of comfort that one truly needs in law school. The amount of ego-bruising we have to go through everyday can only be healed by a certain degree of familiarity and togetherness - and I'm glad our block has that. I can say the same for my group of friends too. There are times where we spent almost all our waking hours together, to the point of clinginess, I guess. But it's comforting on so many levels to just have people who understand you completely, and who believe in what you are capable of. I could not imagine surviving law school without a solid, steady, support group.




Now we're here, at the end of the semester, and I still can't say if I'm over all those insecurities. I probably never will be, not any time soon. (Waiting for the release of our grades isn't helping at all.) But, I guess, for all the difficulties that I've experienced in the last four months or so, I can truly, honestly say, that I did surprise myself quite a lot too. The fact that I've been so down and so depressed only made me realize how there's no other way to go but up. I challenged myself more than I ever did. I pushed myself to work harder. I convinced myself that I was still good enough and smart enough (and yeah, pretty enough, despite all the eyebags) - because I am still here, am I not? Despite all the anxiety and tension, I've managed to pull myself out of bed every single day. And maybe for now, that should be enough. I don't need to be good at it - I just need to feel that it's something that I can take on myself.

My mom was right. Law school may have knocked out the confidence in me, but it also gave me something to fight for. And perhaps this is just what I needed: a struggle not against anyone, but against myself. The first sem is only the beginning of four years of failure and stress. But I have to learn to believe again: that I can do it, that I can rise above this, that I am going to make it through. Even if it's only one day at a time.


First semester, I cannot be more glad that you are over. But I also cannot be more thankful. Here's to looking forward to the next one. (P.S. Please be kinder.)


__

Labels: block D, law school

I've said this before, but I don't mind saying it again and again: One of the things I'm most thankful for in the last few months is that I've met some of the smartest and most awesome people I know in Block D. I can't stress how much I love being in this block. One would think that law school breeds only contempt and competition but, no, for some odd reason, we all just click.

We're Tagaytay-bound in a while. I can't wait! We definitely all deserve this so, so much. :)

Sembreak, let's get it on!
(corollary: Birthday week, let's get it oooon!)


__

Labels: block D, law school

Koi No Yokan is a truly beautiful concept. It can be defined as the sense one can have upon first meeting another person that the two of them are going to fall in love. In other words, it is the knowledge one has that he/she is going to fall in love with another person. This differs from the idea “love at first sight” in that it does not imply that the feeling of love exists, rather it refers to the knowledge that a future love is inevitable.

(Untranslateable Words; High Tower Flashes)

I decided to be kind to myself this morning and listened to the new singles from Deftones' upcoming album, Koi No Yokan. I've been wondering for a while now what that title meant, but I've never really gotten around to searching for it. Until today.

Koi no yokan. Isn't it such an overwhelmingly beautiful concept? The idea of just... knowing?



(And now back to Persons.)

that doubts what I can do and what I am capable of - well, it's gotten louder and louder the last few weeks. I feel like I've lost the ability to believe in the lucidity of my decisions lately. And while there's this other voice that tells me, No, you're doing the right thing, the other one just keeps going, What's the point? 

And that scares me. Because I want it to have a point. I know everything has a point. So why can't I see it yet?


(This is my Karla vs. Consti: The Final Showdown fears speaking at 4:40 am.)

But loving him was red.

...against feelings?

One More Night - Stars

You'll never touch him again so get what you can 
Leaving him empty just because he's a man 
So good when it ends, they'll never be friends 
One more night, that's all they can spend

he did the arm lock to attack all her weak points, which he still knew: feet, waist, armpits, wrists, and everything in between. and laughing didn't even feel wrong, just confusing in a comforting kind of way, because it was 2010 again that night.


__

Labels: bullets

She looks at him, on the floor, and he is not looking back, for he is sleeping, he is away, he is somewhere else she couldn't hurt him. Maybe that's where he should stay, and maybe that's where she should want him to be. But she looks at the empty seat beside her and all she can think of is, What's taking so long?

Labels: bullets

Would you look at that, an actual weekend for once! I finally watched The Phantom of the Opera with my mom, papa, and tita (who took this picture) tonight. I've been waiting so long to have a break, and what better way to spend it than with an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical?

We last saw Phantom in 2009 at The Venetian in Las Vegas. But the performance tonight at the CCP was just as good, if not better. The actors were a delight to watch, and the overall effect of the sound and the set was a sensory feast. The only thing that puts the Las Vegas production a bit above this one was that the theater itself was built for Phantom, hence a bigger set and a much more realistic chandelier. Other than that, however, I found this production with much more pathos and bravado. I thought the performers were much better singers too, and every song was a delight to hear and see live.

(By the way, can I just say that in that scene where Phantom was forcing Christine into the wedding dress, all I could think of was, "But that marriage couldn't possibly be valid! For one, there's lack of consent on Christine's part! And where's the solemnizing officer?" Yes, yes, because that's how much I love Persons.)

I'm not regretting spending my weekend on this. Not at all.


No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears.

Finally. There's reason to hang on to this. I really needed that affirmation, especially right now.

And because of that, this: some of my closest friends in the block. I owe these guys a lot - for the productive study sessions, for the Maroon 5 LSS, for the bacon, for the extremely clingy kind of friendship. I am really not complaining.





Also, Nutella soup. NUTELLA SOUP. Nutella freakin' soup.





Off to have our class' breakfast consultation with our Consti prof at Via Mare. Yep, Via Mare for breakfast. Silver linings, silver linings.

It drives one crazy. It takes one on the edge. It dangles in front of one the possibility of redemption, yet it also threatens one with the very realistic notion of defeat. It's sweet mental torture.

(1) For the first time in a while, it isn't a rainy morning. The sky is not quite blue yet, just a shy shade of lilac still waiting for the grays to fade away. (2) It is marvelous how the chaos of a room looks comforting under the semi-darkness of early morning. (3) Blankets are on the floor again; the body speaks the truth in sleep: one has accepted that there isn't always comfort in warmth. (4) There is an overwhelming feeling of control when one chooses to eat breakfast at 4:21, when the clock looks at you and says "It's too early for that," but you take a bite anyway. (5) Much more empowering is thinking of other food while taking a bite. It is as if you are saying "Just because you are here doesn't mean it is you that I think about." (6) Being dramatic over a slice of bread is a symptom of stress and exhaustion. (7) But it can also mean being alone has been embraced again, that the idea of talking to yourself and no one being there to listen isn't so bad anymore. (8) Being alone is a circumstance. Feeling alone, however, is a different story. (9) The sky is blue now.


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Labels: bullets

Been stuck indoors with my blockmates for the last few days now. I'm more than grateful that I have these guys with me to (1) keep me awake and studying when I'm feeling distracted, (2) distract me when the cases get too much to handle, and (3) just make me feel safe. While we're grateful for the suspension because it gave us more time to prepare for our Midterms (*dun dun dun*), it also meant higher expectations from our profs because we did have more time. Trying to stay awake in this kind of weather isn't exactly the easiest thing to do. But we're doing fine so far - it's better than being alone and fighting the battle by yourself.

The weather's getting better though. I hope everyone else is alright. And I hope we all find the time to help out in the relief operations. :)

GPOY Saturday. So after an entire day of studying (and having my hair up in a messy bun), this happened. I have always resisted the idea of embracing (my actually) wavy hair, but this looks fairly decent, don't you think?

What a wonderful surprise, good hair day. Come by more often, please? I kinda need the ego boost. :))

"Shorn of any reference to psychology, we conclude that we have here a case of parties who have very human faults and frailties; who have been together for some time; but who are now tired of each other.

[...] To be tired and to give up on one's situation and on one's husband however are not necessarily signs of psychological illness; neither can falling out of love be so labeled."

- So vs. Valera (GR No. 150677)

Labels: law school

Guess who won as Best Block for Freshie Week?

Let's go Block D! #DisforDomination #1D #oneDirection :)))))

Yes, despite the amount of schoolwork we have to deal with, the first years had time for this. I honestly didn't think how anyone could decide to hold events in the middle of July in law school, but as if we haven't already been "initiated" enough, we had our Freshie Week, a competition between freshman blocks that included games and activities such as debate, Amazing Races, quiz bees, and obstacle relays for an entire week. Our block held a commanding lead all throughout, and we won big in the major events during the last night, including 2nd place for Ms. Freshie (Malcolm's version of Ms. Eng'g), and 1st place for the block performance (Spice Girls!!!). We only prepared for these the night before because we had our first major exam to worry about first, but we managed to pull through. So, woot woot! \:D/

I couldn't possibly be any luckier that I am part of this diverse, talented, and incredibly intelligent mix of people. A lot of days I feel like giving up, but really, these people make me want to try harder and always keep pushing - if only to prove to myself that I deserve to stay in the company of such wonderful friends.

Saturday was a fun night. It just goes to show that there really is life in law school, if you just look hard enough. It's fun, and it's not such a horrible place to be in. The people around you are just as stressed and just as defeated, but they're just as game and sabaw as well. It's always comforting to realize that you're all on the same boat, just getting by everyday with a little sense of humor and a little more pluckiness. It's nice to have nights like this to remind us that we're still human beings and that we can all let our guards down for a while and see each other like normal people again.


(Then Sunday night comes and suddenly, it's back to regular programming. What a downer - the weather isn't helping.)

__

Labels: law school

I was quietly grocery shopping at the nearby supermarket when they started playing Justin Bieber's "Baby."

Thought you'd always be mine, mine.


Oh God, why.

Yesterday, I've been afforded a law school miracle by way of suspension of classes. Our prof for Legal Methods decided to not hold class due to the inclement weather and for the first time in a long while, I had faith in the universe again. No kidding. I seriously needed that break.

Law school is tough. I'm saying this as plainly and simply as it could get - because what else is there to say? It just really is difficult, period. I thought I loved it enough, I thought I wanted it enough. But apparently, no amount of Ally McBeal and Suits can ever make one prepared for what's out here. In the TV shows, we never see the lawyers reading cases, and we hardly ever hear them complain about getting called for a bad recitation or a failing mark. (Well, they sure don't talk about their law school experiences, do they?) Sure, they lose in court or they get yelled at by clients. But at the end of the day, they have their swanky offices or hot, muscled co-workers to affirm them - and balance is restored. Their egos remain intact, and all is right in the world again.

Meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out how to just get through everyday.

Suddenly, my days have been divided into either reading cases or reciting them. I hardly have time for sleep. My bookshelves are already getting filled with readings, and we're barely halfway into the semester. All my money's being spent on photocopied cases. I rarely ever see people outside law school anymore.

It's exhausting. Law school is hardly forgiving - one never feels like you've done enough, one never feels like you're deserving of anything. It's like a jealous, clingy mistress, they say. It eats you up, it tears you apart. It can get to you - especially deep into the night, like while you're reviewing for an impossible exam with 137 cases, and you realize you only have three hours before class - it can really get to you; it can make you question what you want and why you want them. It can make you feel like maybe all the mental, emotional, and physical torture's just not worth it; you'd rather keep your sanity than pride.

Sometimes, I think, when will it get easier? Will it ever? Sometimes, I wish I still had someone to share all this with, so that at the very least I'd have an anchor, some constant I can hold onto. It can all get so frustrating that perhaps even just fingers in between mine would suffice and give things a sense of being kept together. And then sometimes, I just resign myself to the thought that perhaps I'm better off handling all this on my own than having someone who would probably not understand anyway.

I'm tired, yes. I'm confused, yes. But I'm also still just here. I have nowhere to go and have no place else to be.  I earned my spot here. I have no choice but to muddle through the best way I can and just get going. Maybe it's going to get better soon enough, maybe it won't. But at least despite everything I'm uncertain of right now, there is one thing I'm sure of, one thing that cannot be denied: I'm here.

And I guess I'm staying.


--

Labels: law school

CRUZ, J., concurring:

Instead of merely affixing my singature to signify my concurrence, I write this separate opinion simply to say I have nothing to add to Justice Irene R. Cortes' exceptionally eloquent celebration of the right of information on matters of public concern.

(from Valmonte vs. Belmonte, Jr.)

O di ba. Pwede namang, "I concur" na lang kung hindi rin naman pala marami yung sasabihin. But noooo, he just had to say this. May masabi lang talaga eh. :)) 



(This is basically what has become of me lately - finding humor in the most hopeless of places: cases. #ohgodwhy)

--

Labels: law school

of trying, but never really getting there.

- has been taking away sleep and rest from me, loading me with too many cases (on average, around 60-70 a week), and making me feel like the most inadequate person in the world.

I should know better than feeling sad about people choosing to walk away, people deciding you no longer exist, people suddenly realizing you're no longer worth their time. I should already know by now that what my friends and family are speaking are gospel truth: that I don't deserve such kind of treatment, that I am much better off, that there is nothing to be sorry or depressed about because at least I found out soon enough that there are people not worthy of me. It was a lie, it wasn't real. It was a mistake. It was bound to happen. 

 


For Women Who Are Difficult to Love by Warsan Shire

You are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?


closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.


--

Labels: poetry

I found out last night from a friend who works at the Inquirer that an article of mine is to be published today on Youngblood. I actually did not believe it at first because I could not remember if I submitted anything recently. And then he told me to check the website that midnight, and to expect something at the newsstands this morning.

I have actually posted this essay on this blog a few months before, prior to graduation. It's a piece that I included in my undergraduate thesis, and I now remember that I sent it to Youngblood after having it written it some time last semester. I wasn't expecting anything out of it, really, I just felt like putting it out there I suppose.

And now, there it is. With my name on the byline. This is the first time I get to be published on a national daily - and that is why I'm absolutely thrilled! :3 My family from both sides rushed to get several copies, actually! It's true what they say, that no matter how many times a work of yours gets published anywhere, on paper or on the Web, there will always be that rush.

Here's to great beginnings and great places.

"The familiar shades of green and gray welcomed me as the jeep took a right to the Acad Oval that I have always called my own. The sun said hello in between the leaves’ shadows that hit my legs, and it was as comforting as always. Despite the frantic rush that this campus thrives in every day, there is always a quiet reassurance that greets me once I catch a glimpse of its lush trees and its people. This was how it felt like when I was a soon-to-be freshman. And this is the way it has been since, myself looking on with much calm as the greenness of the university embraces me..."

- from Postcard from Diliman, Youngblood. Philippine Daily Inquirer. Tuesday, May 29, 2012.

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Labels: featured, UP

"Don't worry, Ms. Bernardo, I assure you that you are an English major."

- Sir Paolo Manalo

This, after people from *certain offices in the University that I will not mention* asserted yesterday that I am not an English major because the word "English" does not appear in "Creative Writing."

And that "misunderstanding" almost cost me Php 4,500 and my enrollment into second-year law.


Thanks for coming to the rescue, Sir Paolo! :))

I came back to UP this week to claim my clearance and transcript of records, only to find out that I've been under-assessed a few years back (I know right, how could they let me graduate?). And after settling all that, I then discovered I had some deficiencies in the College of Law.

In a span of two days I've gone back and forth all over the campus, arguing, asking, confirming, appealing, and at the end of the day I'm dead tired and still in the same situation I started in. I got really frustrated and started cursing under my breath, really - not because this is the first time, but precisely because, it isn't. I've done this before - the entire "UP-treating-you-like-a-ping-pong-ball"; letting you go to this place only to be asked to go back to the previous place, then ending up not getting anything done. It sucks that they don't always have a very streamlined process of getting things done, like they're all guessing what to do just as well. It doesn't help that all these buildings they make you go to are located on opposite sides of the campus. It just gets really tiresome, both physically and emotionally, to be dragged around by people who, while doing their best to actually help you, sometimes are not sure either.

And then, in the middle of one of my walks from the OUR (Registrar) to Law, a mother and daughter approached me, asking me the way to the Registrar's office. While I was pointing to her mother the way (which was more difficult than you would expect, really. It's hard to direct non-UP people inside the campus because UP students don't use the names of the streets but rather the buildings), I noticed the girl looking up in awe at the trees that lined the Oval. Both of them looked tired and sweaty from all the walking, I suppose, and the shade that they now took refuge in somehow felt like a relief for her. For all I knew, in her head she could be saying, "Thank God for the shade of these trees. Ang init!" but I swear sixteen-year-old me would have recognized that look in an instant. It wasn't so much relief as it was anticipation.

It's the look that said, "Thank God for the shade of these trees! And these buildings! And these people! Omgomgomg I'm so excited to be here! I can't wait!"

And for a moment, deficiencies and under-assessments notwithstanding, I remembered.



--

Off to appeal at the College of Law with other new friends/incoming first year Law students. Classes haven't even started yet and already we're planning on filing a letter regarding some misunderstanding about the units required to be admitted to the college. It's a long story, but wish us luck! :)

"One particularly interesting line of thought examines the difference between originality in science and originality in art — a refreshing complement to last week’s tangential musings on the subject by Mark Twain and Henry Miller.

If I discover a scientific idea, surely someone else would’ve discovered the same idea had I not done so. Whereas, look at Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” — if he didn’t paint “Starry Night,” nobody’s gonna paint “Starry Night.” So, in that regard, the arts are more individual to the creative person than a scientific idea is to the one who comes up with it — but, nonetheless, they are both human activities.'"

- Neil deGrasse Tyson on why we’re wired for science & how originality differs in science vs. art from Brain Pickings

Sometimes, a part of me still wonders what would have happened if I never stopped liking science - or more accurately, if it never stopped liking me.

They may all seem alienating now, but there truly was a time in my life when physics, biology, geometry, and everything else in between fascinated me. Not that they don't anymore. It's just that reality somehow got in the way, leading me to a point where regardless of whether or not I still find the said fields interesting, I'm not equipped with the skills to appreciate them the way they should be appreciated.

In high school, while I recognized that I was never the best in math or science, and that those will never be my expertise, I considered myself somewhat good enough in them - or at least interested enough to want to learn about them, even when my grades did not always reflect that. I loved physics class. I looked forward to our bio experiments. I also enjoyed algebra and geometry a lot. In fact, I found myself more likely to pursue a a course in the sciences rather than in the arts. In our career assessment exam, I had industrial engineering come out as the second ideal course. (First was accounting/economics, third was humanities/social sciences.) So despite the apparent difficulty I did have with the field, I was sure the feelings I had for it will always be mutual.

But chemistry and statistics ultimately ruined it all for me. Since the second year, I never got the hang of balancing equations and connecting bonds between dots, even when I tried hard to stay awake in class by connecting eyes with our Chem professor (and eventually our Biochem professor in the senior year). And in my fourth year, I ended up hating any colored ball because of the questions that go along the lines of, "If a box had 3 red balls, 5 yellow balls, and 2 blue balls, what was the possibility..." Blech.

This antagonism unfortunately happened in the last few years of high school, when choosing our courses became almost inescapable. Despite my brief excitement over calculus thanks to Cady Heron's "The limit does not exist!" epiphany in Mean Girls, it was a relief for me to finally say goodbye to the sciences upon entering college. A huge relief.

Besides, I felt it was a much braver move, going against the norm and pursuing the arts. English and literature has always been my favorite subject, no contest, so to go to that field would prove to be satisfying, albeit unconventional for most. I remember one teacher, with a sour face, asking me, "Why Creative Writing?" To which only the voice inside my head could reply, "So that I wouldn't have to deal with all your f*ckin' chemicals, b*tch!" (Although I don't think I was that profane then. Haha.)

It's still sad though that a lot of people, myself included, feel this alienation and go through this stage of suddenly having to choose between sciences and the arts. I'm certain they can go together, and I really think they should. But there has always been this mindset that you're either this or that - you can't be both, or you can't be in between. And yes, I used to think I could prove that wrong: that being good in humanities doesn't mean you can't be an awesome physicist. It still saddens me, I guess, that I have fallen victim to that statistic.

So when college happened, it was as if I was on this conscious effort to prove the sciences wrong - that they were wrong to push me away, that they were wrong to judge me so quickly just because I didn't always get the hang of solving things. I had finally found mutual respect and love from art. And while it also hasn't been a smooth-sailing ride, it was nice to at least be nestled comfortably in a seat of words and rhythms, patiently waiting for their meanings to unfold to me on my own pace.

But every once in a while, my hidden/suppressed love for the sciences still emerge, albeit in random ways. Like taking Physics10 (it had everything I loved in the subject without the computation! Just the concepts! Which I had no problem in reading about!) or acing Math1 and Math2 (more practical maths). Or randomly reading about theories, laws, and how stuff works in Wikipedia (lately, more about engines and cars - for obvious reasons). Or unconsciously being attracted to Engineering students who talk geeky to me. (Heehee.)

I have long accepted that my "left side" will never be as dominant as I once thought it to be. I'm now fully aware (and grateful) that it's the "right" that gets the job done for me most of the time - and I cannot be more glad. I have found my greatest comfort and strength in stringing together feelings in sentences, rather than equations in solutions. But I guess, and I hope, that the "left" will not completely go away. I find that there is much strength to be found in the attraction of the arts and the sciences, and that there is but a small, fine line that separates the two. I guess I've come to the point where I know that while I can no longer speak the language of the sciences, it doesn't mean I cannot understand it. And I also now realize that just because art is fluid and relative, it has no space for specifics and detail. Seeing them come together makes sense - I just wish both of them cooperating in my head isn't too much to ask for.

I hope I never lose my interest and skill in the field of science and math, even in the most basic extent. After all, it did get me through the recent wave of exams for law school. And I'm sure that won't be the last time I would need that same push. I'm still crossing my fingers that one day, I'd still get to prove the theory wrong myself: yes, there is a place for poetry in physics, and that there is precision and accuracy, even in prose.

I'm thinking the title is a dead giveaway but it's been playing in my head ever since this morning and I can't find it in me to ignore Brandon Boyd's voice singing.

Yes, today I drove for the first time. And what a feeling it was.

It has always been this unspoken given that I will learn to drive eventually. In high school they said I shall learn when I get to college, when I got to college they said when I turned 18, when I turned 18 they said after graduation. However, regardless of the constant pushing of these so-called "deadlines," I didn't find the need to rush into it - it was going to happen somehow anyway. That was for sure.

Add to that the fact that I found no immediate need to learn how to drive. My parents have no plans of buying me a car anytime soon, and although we randomly toss the idea around in conversations, it's not something definite, or at least not something that's in the foreseeable future. I am also a dormer, which makes my commute to and from UP relatively easier. When I do go back home in the south, I take the MRT to Ayala and from there meet up with my parents in the Makati area where they will fetch me after their work. Also, I secretly do enjoy the whole "I don't drive because I'm meant to be driven," shtick I give to my friends when they tease me to ask Rainier to let me drive his car.

But admittedly, the reason I did not mind the delay was because a part of me was also scared - scared that despite everything I was supposed to know about automobiles and driving (mostly thanks to Rainier who is obsessed with them, and has in fact designed and built two cars already) I also knew absolute nothing. I have no previous experience in driving - nay, I have no experience in any kind of moving vehicle at all. I can't even bike, for crying out loud! And the first (and last time) I rode an ATV for Geog Camp, I almost crashed into a tree (almost killing the aforementioned boy who sat behind me, out of fear, but mostly out of kilig, I suppose, although that's for another blog entry altogether).

As a result, I had all these preconceived notions about running into concrete barriers, having the engine die out on me, turning at the wrong time, crashing again into a tree - a whole slew of scenarios probably expected from clumsy, awkward, panicky me.

However when I started the ignition this morning, while finding the right balance between stepping on the gas and releasing the clutch, I just found this overwhelming sense of ease. Like this was something I was supposed to do, like this was something natural to me.

Perhaps I can credit it to maturity or to Brandon Boyd's singing in my head, but it just didn't seem as frightening as I expected the first time to be. It turned out much better than I was picturing all these years in my imagination. And when I was finally making the turns, shifting gears, and getting out there on the main road, it was like all fears just went splat! on the windshield as if to say, "There's nothing to be afraid of, really."

Well, of course there is. Like people suddenly flashing the hand of God when crossing the street from out of nowhere, or when motorcycles suddenly cut in front of you even when you have your signal on, or jeepneys randomly stopping in front of you. But to have avoided all these during my first time without much difficulty - that was quite thrilling. It was like for the first time in a long time, I had control of the situation, and I successfully maneuvered out of it.

It's no secret that the last few months prior to graduation (and to the result of the law school entrance exams) have been very tough on me. It took a toll on me physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was hoping this summer was going to give back the confidence I felt I lost in the process of finishing my thesis and complying with all my requirements.

Last week, I returned to Bangkok. The last time I was there was in 2008, the summer before college. Finding myself there again after four years, it was like coming full circle. I was in the same place again: on the brink of a major change in my life. I was surprised at how a lot of things inside me still remain unchanged after four years - the excitement enveloped in fear, the optimism coupled with reluctance.

But today, I felt I got the push I needed to get me out of this uncertainty I've been carrying with me lately. I came face-to-face with an actual, tangible enemy: the road. And having it stretch out in front of me for me to actually take on, that proved to be liberating. The moment I set myself in motion, I realized that while the fear may never completely go away, it does not mean I can't get around it either.

I guess the same goes for law school, and the rest of my future. And because there really is no other way to end this other than to wrap it up with the song, I say (and sing!) with much conviction: Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there, with open arms and open eyes, yeah.


___


* A line from the song Drive by Incubus

So in the last few weeks, I (1) have graduated from college which means I (2) have attended and held grad dinners and parties [read: ate a lot of food] in celebration of our right of passage, but which also means I (3) am now officially unemployed, though not for long because I (4) am soon to enter law school and is in fact secretly anticipating the torture about to come my way. Meanwhile, however, I (5) am enjoying the freedom I still have by relishing the fact that I (6) just got a student's license which means I (7) now have a legitimate ID that says I am indeed above eighteen years old [yes, it is always a problem for me, proving my age] but most importantly also means I (8) will be taking driving lessons soon - probably after we get back from Bangkok next week. In the meantime, I (9) am finishing an article for a small writing gig I just scored a few days ago, while looking for other furniture I can put in the new room I (10) just moved into.

So that has been my summer so far.

So hello, May. What else have you got up your sleeve?

Labels: CW, graduation, UP

The familiar shade of green and gray welcomed me as the jeep took a right to the Acad Oval that I have always called my own. The sun said hello in between the shadows of leaves that hit my legs, and it was comforting the way it always is. Despite the frantic rush that this campus thrives in everyday, there is always a quiet reassurance that greets me once I catch a glimpse of the lush trees and the people below them. This was how it felt like the first time I looked at it through the eyes of a soon-to-be freshman. And this was the way it has been since, me looking on with much calm as the greenness of the university embraces me.

Labels: UP

It's been a week since I submitted my thesis at the Department of English and Comparative Literature. It's been five days since I last emailed my final requirement for the last semester of my college life. It's been two days since I found out I also passed in Ateneo Law. Let's just say I'm well into my vacation now, and I have a lot of reasons to rejoice.

Quite frankly, I really am overwhelmed. This was the moment I've been working for the last four years of my life - the part I can finally say "Finally!" and not bat an eyelash, not lose a wink of sleep. This is real now. It's here. College is ending. Things are finally coming to a close, and another chapter is just about to begin. It's hard to resist reveling in relief and excitement.

But four years ago, I was expecting to welcome this rather differently. I thought I was going to be partying with friends, or frolicking in the beach, or flying on a plane to somewhere exotic - something big, something grand, to actually encapsulate my feelings of happiness.

Instead, here I am in my grandmother's house in Batangas for Holy Week, enjoying spending my nights talking to my grandparents instead of staying on the Internet. (There isn't any Internet in the first place, just some... leeching...)

And I could not be more glad. Four years ago, I thought happiness meant noise. I thought happiness meant exiting with a big bang. But if there is anything I learned in the last four years, it's that sometimes the best moments are celebrated in the quietest of ways. It's in seeing the beauty of lying in bed at two in the afternoon, huddled up with only a good book and your pair of eyeglasses, and realizing you have the rest of the day to finish all the books you brought with you, and then some. Happiness is getting a short good night call welcoming the first of the month. Happiness is being at your friend's house with your high school barkada to comfort her while eating Gardenia bread and laughing about people you know, finding strength in just your togetherness.

I don't need the grand stuff to feel grateful, I don't need the loudness to affirm how much I deserve being this happy and contented. I'm thankful, really extremely incredibly thankful, for everything I have in my life right now. No one else needs to see that in high-res pictures on social networking sites for it to be true.

So no, thank you, I can do without the grandeur for now. For now let me thank the universe in my simple, quiet way - and I'll let it give me my fireworks in its own great timing.


:)

Labels: law school, UP

Happy birthday, Papa!

I am one of the rare few who gets to talk to my dad about a lot of things, from how sushi is made to how long it took for the London Tube to be constructed in the 1890s. Papa is not the man of few words - he has a lot to say, and that's because he knows a lot. He is the kind that buys hardbound history books about the Byzantine empire and the type that downloads apps of newspapers from different parts of the world. He is the kind of person who will explain to you how turbines and power plants (and other engineering-related stuff) work, but also he is first to find out about all the latest movies. He never shied away from discovering things old and new, he never stepped away from an opportunity to find out about certain things and discuss what he thinks of them. I guess in many ways, he has set for me the standard of what it is to have a good conversation with an intelligent man. He would never make you feel like you don't know anything, yet at the same time, each talk will leave you with something more than what you began it with.
In a lot of ways, my dad has been a friend and a confidante. While others consider their father a stern, quiet presence in their lives, Papa has been this animated, lively figure that I look up to for his wit, his confidence, and his smarts. He is funny, he is generous, and he is kind. He has taught me a lot of things about life not through long lectures but over (almost) sleepless nights of just watching DVDs together (much to my mom's dismay) or mornings eating pandesal and peanut butter. And that is what I will always be grateful for - the fact that we don't need grand gestures to be able to see eye-to-eye on things. We can just talk and talk and talk, and we would never get tired.
Happy birthday to one of the people I have the best conversations with! (The other, of course, being Mom) Love you, Papa! :)

I'm usually not one to go out of my way to get the newest gadget - in fact, the last time I remember explicitly wanting one was four years ago in 2008, right after my high school graduation. It was a laptop, a NEO Empriva 572SVB, which I set my eyes on, primarily because I was about to enter college and figured I really needed a laptop, but mostly because it came in pink - hot pink. And that's saying a lot about my usual taste in gadgets - the only requirement I really care about having is if it comes in pink. Rarely do I go out of my limb to score something because of its other fancier specs (which is how it really should be, but I'm weird like that.) Also, if anything, my "gadgets" are mostly just hand-me-downs from my dad. I usually just get whatever it is he has already replaced or got tired of. (And of course, I'm not complaining.)

Anyway, that laptop, my Pink Ranger, carried me all throughout the next four years of college - well, almost. Just a few months ago, its hinges went loose, probably because of the everyday wear-and-tear I've exposed it to. It had come to a point where the screen could no longer support itself and to use it, I had to have a stack of books or a wall behind it. It was in a terribly sad, sorry state and it hurt to even look at it. So I asked my dad to - no, not buy me a new one - but have it repaired instead. I figured there may be no need for a new one, especially since the software, which is more important, remains in good condition. I borrowed his laptop in the meantime, just to get me through the last month of the semester, since he's mainly using his iPad for work anyway.

Last week, my dad brought up this new tablet-slash-laptop that Asus has just released a few months ago, the Asus Eee Transformer Prime. Being the gadget/techie addict that he is (I swear, he just knows everything), I wasn't surprised that he was suddenly teasing us about buying one. Normally I would let it slide, but this time I got curious and decided to look it up. It had been getting great reviews from various blogs and gadget enthusiasts. It runs on Android, with its latest version running on Ice Cream Sandwich - which explains its user-friendliness and effortless maneuverability. But of course, its biggest asset is in its "transformer" powers - with the accompanying keyboard, the tablet automatically transforms into a working laptop. One thing that greatly discourages me from even considering getting a tablet is its lack of an actual, tactile keyboard, which is a must with all the papers I have to do. The fact that this one has a detachable keyboard is in itself a great plus. An added bonus is that the keyboard also acts like a dock, so with the tablet attached to it, the former can charge. Together, they can stay on for almost eighteen hours - that is amazing battery power right there! But even with the two components together it probably just weighs a little over the typical iPad, which still makes it light and ideal for mobility. It also boasts of an 8-megapixel outer camera - YES EIGHT MEGAPIXELS - and a 1.2-megapixel secondary camera for video calls. Both the keyboard and the tablet each have memory card slots, with the keyboard having an extra USB slot. And one of the best things about it is that it goes for about $499 - much, much cheaper than a lot of other tablets and laptops/netbooks out there. The only catch was that it doesn't come in pink, but I was sold.

I was half-expecting to get it sometime this April after my graduation, but I found it on my table when Papa came home last night. And oh, was it beautiful! We were both screaming in excitement while we were unboxing it - which my mom found weird, haha! But there really is nothing like opening a new gadget straight out of its box. Suffice to say, in the last 24 hours that I've used it, it hasn't disappointed me yet. Although, it has to be said that this is still essentially a tablet - so it is kind of difficult to multitask (as it typically runs one app at a time, or hides most of them in the background) and certain common features in laptops are absent (such as copy/paste features). But the Ice Cream Sandwich OS tries to go beyond its mere-tablet capabilities and maximizes its potential as a true laptop-replacement. There is a nifty button that shows all the applications running, allowing you to quickly skip from one app to the other. It also comes with pre-loaded programs such as Polaris Office, which is a good enough stand-in for Microsoft, and the Asus Browser, which is similar to the Chrome. Except from the obvious limitations that comes from being a tablet, the Transformer Prime is, so far, exceptional. In the battle of tablet supremacy, with this gadget, hands down, Asus takes the crown.

So here she is, my darling new baby. In line with my fondness to name my gadgets starting with a "P" (my other laptop is Pink Ranger, my iPod classic is Portia, my nook is Porphyria) - I named her Prima. Not so much because of the "Prime," but also because prima in Italian means first, and I really think this one is going to set the trend for what would be soon be a tablet/laptop market. I still can't believe I'm actually typing on it right now - I actually missed being this stoked over a gadget! I'm actually feeling kilig about it :)) I'm still having my first laptop repaired and I'm still going to use it; that'll probably be my "desktop" whereas Prima will be my on-the-go partner. Sounds like a good plan, doesn't it?



Isn't she pretty? :)

(Here's a link to a review of the Transformer Prime, by the way. Check it out!)

In between writing nineteen papers (yes, 19) and trying to revise my thesis, I somehow stumbled upon the link to something I've been waiting for for quite a while now - the short documentary on Sugarfree's "Paalam Pilipinas" farewell concert.

Labels: UP

I just bought a copy of Top Gear PH - again. I don't drive, and I hardly ever consider myself a car enthusiast (unfortunately for me, the love of cars is non-transferable, even when The Boyfriend is competing for automotive contests abroad). But lately I've appreciated the magazine simply for what it brings - good writing on good cars. I may not know enough to understand completely how different a 338hp fares against a 306hp or how exactly traction control works, which essentially should strip me off the "right" to read about such things, but a lot of their pieces are rendered in such a way that these terms hardly get in the way of me understanding a car or the experience of driving it.

A few months ago I also grabbed for myself a copy of the local Esquire magazine, with MVP on the cover. It was mostly because one of my professors, Dr. Dalisay, had an article featured in it. But I was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying the rest of the magazine, even if it was targeted at the male audience. Sure, I probably couldn't care less about brown suits or the leather boat shoes to go with them. Or that there are better drinks (that you can concoct yourself using your stash of leftover alcohol) cozy party with a few buds other than beer. But I did appreciate the way they were written - clean, straightforward, and just the right amount of witty. Good enough for me to keep the magazine and look back on it again from time to time. The same actually goes for the few Top Gear magazines I also bought in the recent past

Meanwhile, I too had my fair share of the usual female magazines out there, that is Preview, Mega, Cosmopolitan and other similarly related reads (mostly bought by my mom at home, several I bought for myself here in the dorm). I will not apologize for the many various reasons I may have given in to these issues, because really, on most days, I just need a break from all the heavy academic reading and just want to look at lipsticks and lingerie without guilt. They do have some of the best fashion editorials and spreads in the country today - I think, given with my limited knowledge on fashion, they can very well compete with publications abroad. The fashion mags, mostly, are also highly promoting of the Filipino talent especially when it comes to fashion design and photography. So I think in the visual aspect, these female-target magazines do their job.

But I hardly get the satisfaction I'm looking for when I read through them. Sure, the pictures are gorgeous, and the variety of clothes/make-up they show (and blatantly require everyone to "have right now!") are completely up-to-date with the trends from overseas - something to give them credit for. But I don't find intriguing, moving writing in any of these pages. Or at least any kind of writing that goes beyond what is required of them. I get it that they are catered specifically for just one market, i.e. Preview for fashionistas, Cosmopolitan for single women, etc. I also recognize the fact that some of them have parent publications abroad, articles from which they have to have in their current issues in order to streamline the offerings all over the world. But do they really have to come out with just recycled,hackneyed fluff? Is there nothing else to talk about other than THIS NEW SKIRT YOU HAVE TO BUY or THIS BOY YOU HAVE TO PLEASE? More accurately, aren't there better ways to write about them?

Top Gear, for example, limits itself to mostly just cars but the way they present their articles always have that level of experience, that touch of humanity in them. You read about the entire driver's experience: how the shiny exterior had him at first glance, how the seat welcomed him upon ignition, how the steering wheel felt in his hands. It gives you so much more than just the specs and how much the car is worth. Of course, their articles are hardly literary, but they're not trash. They're something you can genuinely look back onto, especially those that involve a little bit of travel and culture (when cars are road-tested in various locations, local or international), and sometimes a bit of memoir too (when it reminds them of things past, or evokes something of the future). The apparent subject is there of course (i.e. the vehicle), but there's also some sort of insight - which makes it a more rewarding read on so many levels.

You can argue that shoes don't have much going on for them to elicit such a wordy, descriptive article. But says who? Who says you cannot write about the perfect outfit without the dedication of a car enthusiast? And isn't that the challenge of nonfiction - nay, any kind of writing - anyway? To write something different? To come up with a new approach on things?

One of my classes this semester (and probably my favorite; also the most demanding) is CW141 which is Nonfiction II. It covers speech writing, food writing, profile, travel writing, and the memoir - most of which are the types of nonfiction we find in various magazines. It's no surprise, considering that most of the essays on our reading list actually do come from mag publications: GQ, The Atlantic, The New Yorker, Esquire, and the like. A lot of them were written more than a year ago - one even pertaining to events following the 9/11 attack - but they hardly sound out of fashion or dated. The form and style carried the pieces to a certain degree of timelessness, or at least an extension of relevance for until a next couple of years.

Of course I haven't read all men's magazines to consider them much more superior than their female counterparts. Especially with the recent FHM racism controversy, I hardly think they're the ideal publication to look up to. (I also haven't read FHM, Playboy, or any of that kind of "men's magazine" so that's not part of this equation.) I'm also not judging magazines that feature mostly fashion or photo spreads as second-rate compared to those which feature more pieces of writings. What I'm pointing out however is the seeming disparity between those that do have prose as their foundation, and how starkly different they seem to be, given their market.

Hello, I'm Karla Bernardo. If you Google my name, you will find the Wikipedia entry of a Canadian serial-killer (and trust me, you do not want to read about that - but I'm sure you will because now you're curious), which is why I suggest you type Bombastarr instead so you can stalk me better.

I spent eight-and-a-half years of my life in the University of the Philippines, where I graduated with degrees in Creative Writing and Juris Doctor. It is also where I learned how to speak a bit of Italian, got a taste of the best tapsilog, and took striptease for PE.

I love telling stories, as much as I enjoy finding them.

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Featured Works

Stargirl (Cover story for Nadine Lustre, Scout, January-February 2017)
Surreal / So Real (at Scout)
Ode to a Great Love's 17-year-old Self (Love.Life, Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Postcard from Diliman (Youngblood, Philippine Daily Inquirer)

Writer for Philippine Law Register
A Call to Arms (January 2017)
Expecting the Expected (March 2016)

Former Writer for Stache Magazine
The Hero's Journey (June 2013)
The 8 People You Become In Your Youth (June 2013)
The Best Bad Idea That Is Argo (April 2013)
Mike Ross Remembers Everything You Don't (August 2012)
Style Between the Riffs (August 2012)
Book Lovers Never Sleep Alone (June 2012)
A Spectrum of Change (December 2011)
Digital Art (October 2011)
Elements of Style (June 2011)
In Her White Dress (All-Art April 2011 issue)

Morning After Pill (Fervore: Literary Folio 2013, UP Portia Sorority)
How To Make a Blueberry Cheesecake (Kalas: Kalasag Literary Folio 2011, UP College of Arts and Letters)
January 14th (100: The Hundreds Project, UP Writer's Club)

An Ode to The Pillow Book (at New-Slang)
Introductions (at TeenInk)
One by One (at TeenInk)

   

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Got a comment, question, violent reaction, love letter, or random piece of information you want to share with me? Just fire away. I don't bite.

(I changed my form and went back to Freedback because Ask.fm's being a bitch, requiring people to sign up for accounts before asking questions. Because I love you guys, I tweaked my ask box a bit, so that the questions will now go directly to my e-mail, but I'll be posting the answers still on my Ask.fm for convenience. TL;DR - I'll still be getting your questions so no worries. You're still free to harass me / send me your love.)

Answers

Most Frequently Asked Question

Are you a pornstar?
No, I am not a pornstar, stripper, or your friendly neighborhood call girl. It's just a fancy pseudonym with a long history, and two R's. Rawr.

Bombastarr is my personal blog and my little corner in the Internet since 2005. Yes, I started writing here when I was 13 years old (aka when I was very angsty, hormonal, and always gushing at the littlest things) -- ergo, you'd have to forgive me if you come across an old post that reeks of immaturity and slightly unpolished grammar. I did a lot of growing up here, and from the looks of it, there's still a lot of growing up to do, so I don't think I'll be leaving this place any time soon.

The domain, Bombastarr.com, was purchased on June 2014 and launched on July 2014, on the blog's ninth year (and fifth month, to be exact).

It's crazy to think that this blog is now thirteen years old, because (1) that seems like an eternity in internet years, and (2) that means if my blog were a kid, it's a teenager! That's insane.

Here's to more tales, explosive and otherwise.

If you've been living under a rock and think I'm a threat to world peace or an object of covetousness, sorry to disappoint you, folks: it's just a fancy pseudonym.

As in most things, it started in high school. It began as a joke between me and a couple of friends during our freshman year. We were practicing for a field demonstration dance which involved the use of shawls, and being the crazy-always-trying-to-be-funny person that I was (or I always attempted to be) I started doing poses with the garment. Someone started taking my picture using my phone, and one shot looked like I was posing for those B-list movies (or should it be R-list, as in R-rated?) of the vegetable-nomenclature variety. #IKYWIM. Hence, the word, "Bombastarr." Yes, very cheeky, I know, but for a 13-year-old, it was quirky enough to figure as a username. That was 2005, right around the time I trying to decide on a URL for a new blog. It's been a lot of years since, and what started as a joke became something I've eventually embraced as an identity.

Despite the many other chances I've gotten to permanently move (to Multiply, Livejournal, Tumblr, Wordpress; to a bigger platform where I can earn or use the blog as a venue for commerce), I've come to realize that Bombastarr is something I can never truly leave behind. It is a place I've grown to appreciate and love because it is a place I can call my own. It's a venue for my rants, my views, my writing. It is home, and it is who I am.

Bombastarr is a glimpse of my life: the thoughts, ideas, and stories that shape it into what it is, and what it will still become. This journal has been with me for all my crazy, often embarrassing adventures, but I'm sure there will be more anecdotes and feelings and people to write about. Which is something I'm really looking forward to. After all, you know what they say about the greatest stories - sometimes, there's still a lot that's left unwritten.

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