Observations from a Lowly Traveller

Across The Universe

2008-03-31T01:28:00.000-07:00

Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup

They slither while they pass

They slip away across the universe

Pools of sorrow waves of joy are drifting thorough my open mind

Possessing and caressing me

Jai guru deva om

Nothing's gonna change my world

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes

That call me on and on across the universe

Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box

they tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe

Jai guru deva om

Nothing's gonna change my world

Sounds of laughter shades of life are ringing through my open ears

exciting and inviting me

Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns

It calls me on and on across the universe

Jai guru deva om

Nothing's gonna change my world

Jai guru deva Jai guru deva

Pfft.

2008-03-31T01:24:00.000-07:00

I can't even begin to describe what's happening right now. It's a mixture of bad luck, coupled with massive doses of other people's problems, stuffed in pot roasted chicken. And I'm allergic to chicken.

I suppose this hopelessness springs from the fact that people change, and will continue to do so, until the world goes kaput. I am bored. I have three empty bags of Bread Pan to prove it. I am so bored, I can go to Tagaytay and back and still be bored.

Grrrrrr!

2008-03-17T00:52:00.000-07:00

Imagine me and you, I do...
Nothing good ever came out of it.

Thank You Rhona.

2008-03-12T00:35:00.000-07:00

Desperation unravels the fragility of all human beings. We have, in one way or another, fallen on our knees and begged.
I have. Surely, so has she. And I was the "lucky" prey.

Petrarchan Recurrence

2008-03-07T01:25:00.000-08:00

“Have you seen my phone?”
“Nope. Check your drawer.”
“It’s not there… hey! Have you seen my phone?”
“No, sorry. I’ll be late for class. See you later.”
“Have you seen my phone? I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Where did you put it?”
“On the table, where I always leave it.”
“We’ve been here for 3 hours, and nobody has come in since ten minutes ago.”
“I’m dead if I don’t find it.”
“Don’t overreact. You’ll find it.”
“Yeah. That’s a good excuse to buy a new one.”
My phone. I can’t find my phone. And if I don’t find it before the day ends, I’m dead.
Oh, sorry. I hope I’m not being rude. My name’s Karla. I know I’m supposed to tell you things about me, granting that I’m the one who’s talking and you’re, well, you’re either looking or listening. It doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is what I’m saying. Or what you think of what I’m saying. But I don’t care. You can say whatever you want. After I have said my piece, I’ll just go and leave you alone. I don’t expect you to follow me. I’d rather have it that you spare me a few minutes of your time and then leave me afterwards.
Better yet, you can help me look for my phone. Have you seen it?
Actually, I don’t plan to tell you anything too personal about me. What you’ll hear is just my version of the truth. If others have their own rendition, then I’d like to hear ‘em before I go. See, I have this thing with multitasking. They keep me awake. Besides, I’m a good listener. I could be kicking your ass in Metal Gear while you’re talking and I’d remember everything that you said. Even if I’m, say, deadbeat tired from everyday life and all, I can still muster enough energy to sit up and listen to a story. My dad used to say, one man’s spit is another’s water… or something close to that… hey, could you stand from that chair first? You might be sitting on my phone… God, this could take longer than I thought.
Anyway, you might be wondering what we are looking for. You might as well help if you want to tag along. I’m looking for my phone. It’s XDA II, with a 2 megapixel camera, 512mb memory capacity, HSDPA enabled and a whole lot of programs on it. No… not the pocket version. Mine’s the bigger one, size of your palm since my hands are smaller than yours. If you find it, please tell me.
I have to find my phone. My whole life revolves on it. If I lose it completely, I lose my life. I got a lot of things in there: thesis, schedules, appointments, things to do, contacts, other files, pictures… oh please no! Please God no!... Do I sound like a coño? If I ever do that again, please slap me. Slap me hard and jab me on my arm. Really.
I really have to find it. My dad gave me that phone. I had it for Christmas. It was the only thing on my list last Christmas. I didn’t want anything else. Why that model, you ask? I’m a first class multi tasker. I’m always on the roll. I surf the net using that phone… you know, check my emails, other sites for research. A lot of times I use it as a substitute USB. I’m that kind of person; the best deal kills five birds with a single stone, hence, XDA. How many phones do you find these days that boost of the same features?... Could you please look under that cabinet?... Nothing? Thanks.
You know, my dad reprimands me a lot for staying out late. He doesn’t like it when I don’t go home for dinner. If I’m not home by 8pm he’s already panicking. Last Tuesday I slept over my friend’s house because we had an overnight group study for the midterms. We studied Math and I didn’t want to flunk so I had to ask for a lot of help. I reminded my dad about it morning before I left for school, but I guess he forgot about it because by half past eight in the evening he was yelling at me on the phone. But I’m a daddy’s girl so he couldn’t stay mad at me for long. He just told me that he would pick me up in time for school the next day.
What he didn’t know was that I went home that night. I asked one of my guy classmates to drive me home and wait for me, on account that I left my manual and some toiletries. Tugging my phone on my sweatshirt pocket, I crept upstairs because I didn’t want to wake him. The whole house was in total darkness. Good thing I borrowed a flash light that I could use from Jeff… you know, the guy classmate who drove me home… no, it’s not here… how about that drawer?... you found it?... No?... okay, maybe it’s in the other room. I had a lot of stops before I headed here…
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Jeff. Anyway, I climbed upstairs. You know, my room is near the staircase and his is just a few steps from mine. My mom? No, I never met her. I’m an only child, actually. My dad told me that mom died during childbirth, ‘said she had a hard time with me since I was one big baby. I remember laughing at that story, not because my mom died or anything. It’s just hard to believe that I was a big baby since I hardly eat these days.
So there, I was trying my best not to hit anything in the dark because I didn’t want to wake dad up. I fumbled for my room key, but it was dark and Jeff’s flashlight wasn’t that much of a help. Maybe because I was hurrying and it was dark and my sleeve partially covered my right hand, so I accidentally dropped my room key. It didn’t make much noise but I heard someone moaning. I swear, someone was moaning. Hey, how about there?... No, nothing in here. Where the hell is that phone?

Footsteps

“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
“You have to.”
“Oh crap. For real?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“Believe me, it is. Don’t make it sound like it’s complicated.”
“We’ve been through this.”
“Yeah, and I told you it’s not that hard. Why lie? What are you so afraid of?”
“You know why.”
“You know sometimes I think you’re just making the situation an excuse for everything.”
“I’m not making an excuse. It’s the truth.”
“I don’t know how long I can wait. If this keeps up… sorry.”
“Fine. Leave when you want to.”
“I didn’t say I was leaving.”
“Sounds like you want to.”
“There you go again.”
“Someone’s coming!”
“I thought we’re alone tonight.”
“Ssshhhhh!”
“What?”
“Shut up for second!”
“Nobody’s here.”
“Just shut it, will you?”
“You’re overreacting.”
“SHUT UP!”
“Make me.”
“You asked for it.”

A Prism Splits Light

Still nothing?... Well, don’t give up. We’ll find it. I hope we find it! So anyway, I got my things and left the house. I was in such a hurry that I almost broke Ardie’s picture on my way out.
Have I told you about Ardie? We’ve known each other since 6th grade. My dad knows his dad. I think they were college buddies. I’ve known Ardie the longest among my friends. He was my date during the prom and my escort when I celebrated my debut. Well, he was forced to be my escort. My dad asked him to be my escort even before I could think of somebody else. But it was okay. Ardie’s a nice guy. Two days after my debut he called me up and asked to meet him outside our house in 20 minutes. Which I did, not knowing that I was up for a special treat. He was standing in the middle of the road with a bunch of roses in one hand and a ring on the other. We’ve been together since. It works well, you know, since I know him so well.
Lately, I’ve been noticing that he’s acting strange. I burn the lines with him, but now he rarely answers my calls. At first I thought he was just under a lot of pressure from school work and all. He’s spending time with his mom more frequently, which is sweet, by the way. Then one time I went to a bookstore and I saw him there. I asked him earlier that day if he wanted to join me but he declined, ‘told me that he had a lot of chores. I asked him if he was with anybody, and he told me that he was with his mom, who was nowhere in sight, to begin with. One time I even caught him and my dad talking on the phone!
Something’s up, you know. I can tell. Hey, can I borrow your phone?... I might as well call mine so we’d hear it. I’m already full of dust and dirt… Darn! There’s no signal here!

Obscura Veritas

“It’s what she wants for Christmas.”
“How much is it?”
“Reasonable, with all the specs.”
“You spoil her too much.”
“She’s all I have.”
“Yeah? And where does that leave me?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“Oh, don’t start. Not here.”
“What? I’m just asking.”
“Not now. Not here.”
“When, then?”
“Soon.”
“Soon? When is that? When I’m old enough?”
“No. When you’ve matured.”
“And you’re supposedly mature? Please!”
“I’ll just pay up.”
“Don’t walk away from me.”
“I’m not. I’ll just pay up. What’s with you?”
“I’m tired.”
“Okay, I’ll just pay up then we’re going.”
“No. I’m tired. Of this.”
“I don’t quite get what you mean.”
“I think you do.”
“Can we talk about this later?”
“No. I’m sorry.”

Chiaroscuro

… You think my dad will get mad at me if I don’t find it? I mean, it’s not my fault if someone took it. I wasn’t being careless or anything. It’s not like I put it on display.
Are you tired? Sorry if I dragged you this far. I just want to find my phone… What time is it?... Half past 8? Oh, great. My dad’s calling me by now. Shoot.
No, he didn’t remarry after mom died. I think he didn’t want to. I guess he loved mom that much… Funny you asked… Actually, no. I saw her on pictures but dad said he had her cremated. Dad said mom loved the sea when she was still alive so he scattered her ashes in the sea.
I don’t mind if he remarries, though. He needs someone to take care of him. I’d love to be there all the time but dad said not to worry because he can take care of himself. He wants me to be a doctor, you know. It’s fine by me. At least I can take care of him when he’s old. And when I start a family of my own, I’d take him with us so I could look after him 24/7.
Yeah, he likes Ardie a lot. Sometimes they go out, you know, boys will be boys. What’s that?... Well, not really. I think dad’s just being fatherly. Ardie lost his dad to colon cancer two years ago. It was very painful for him. They were extremely close. Dad was close to his dad, too. We visited his dad in the hospital the day before he died. We were the last people to have seen him like that. It was touching, you know. His dad tried his best to sit just so he could talk to dad… I didn’t know what he said to dad because I was just sitting at the couch near the window, and he was really weak, he could barely say a word without gasping for air.
Hey, wait a sec. Did we check the storage room? I dropped a few boxes there before I headed to my class. Maybe I left my phone there… C’mon… please? This is the last stop, promise.
I know I said we’d go home after 8 but I just have to find my phone… it’s really important that I find it. Just one last look, I promise. And if we don’t find it by then, well, I guess I have lost it for good… is there a phone booth here somewhere? I have to call dad. He’s worried sick by now. Do you have any change for twenty bucks? All I need is a five peso coin.

O tempora! O mores!

“You don’t understand. You have to get it no matter what happens!”
“Why? You know she doesn’t like it when I touch her things.”
“No, you get it. I’m telling you, we’ll both be dead.”
“You’re acting strange. What’s with you?””
“If she finds out… if they find out…”
“Calm down. Nobody’s going to find out.”
“Well it’s nice to see that you’re still placid when I’m already losing my marbles here!”
“I can’t think straight! One at a time. I can’t just go thru her things, for crying out loud!”
“You don’t have to go thru her things! You just have to get her phone!”
“What for?”
“You remember last month, when we went up to Baguio?”
“Yeah?”
“You remember the hotel escapade?”
“Yeah?... So?”
“…”
“…”
“Oh Christ.”

Sunsets and Eerie Nights

“Hey.”
“Hey. What’s with the long face? Rough day?”
“Yeah. I lost my phone.”
“What? You don’t mean the one your dad bought for you last Christmas?”
“Yeah, that one. I’m so dead.”
“But I just gave it to you this morning right after your dad dropped it off. Are you sure you didn’t misplace it?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, honey… it’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not, Ardie. Daddy will kill me.”
“Well, let’s just tell your dad the truth. I mean, it’s not your fault… was it stolen? Surely you must have misplaced it.”
“I was dropping a few things on the way to class. I spent three hours inside the office. I had some things to check. And then it was gone.”
“What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“I always place my things on the table. I was on the phone with Anne and then I put it on the table beside my bag. Must have slipped my mind to put it inside my bag. I had a lot of papers to write so I was really stressed.”
“It’s okay, Karla. Let’s just tell your dad.”
“I feel stupid. My whole life’s stored in that expensive piece of crap, only to end up stolen. Freakin’ technology.”
“There’s always a silver lining. I’m sure your dad will buy you a new one.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I just know. He’s a generous, loving guy. I mean, he’s been sort of looking after me since dad died.”
“…”
“Look, it’s already ten. I’ll take you home.”
“Daddy’s not going to be home ‘til midnight. He told me he has a business meeting; he’s not sure what time it’ll end.”
“So where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know. We can hang out at your place.”
“I’m not sure about that. Mom’s home. She’s had a rough day as well.”
“It’s okay. I missed her. Might as well join her in sulking. Misery loves company. Besides I think daddy’s dinner meeting is in a restaurant near your subdivision. I can just ask him to pick me up at your place.”
“…”
“Something wrong?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Karla. Why don’t I just take you home?”
“Why not?”
“I got things to do.”
“Then I’ll help you.”
“Alone.”
“You know, I’m not your girlfriend for nothing.”
“…”
“Fine. Take me home.”
“Hey Karla. Maybe next time, okay?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“You believe me, don’t you?”
“You’ve been saying that since Baguio.”

A House is not a Home

“Sweetheart?...”
“Hi dad.”
“Rough day?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No, not really.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, there is something I want to tell you.”
“…”
“Dad?”
“Hmm? What was that, honey?”
“You look tired. Your eyes look like crap.”
“Sorry, honey. Daddy’s had a long day.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Don’t worry about me, honey. Daddy’s fine. Anyway, you were saying something?”
“Why don’t we have this at the kitchen?”
“Hmm? I’m not hungry.”
“How about ice cream then? Chocolate?”
“Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll just take these upstairs and then we’ll talk over ice cream.”
“Okay.”
“…”
“Karla, honey?”
“Yes, dad?”
“You left your phone this morning. At the kitchen counter.”
“Huh?”
“I was supposed to drive by your school this morning before work. I know you can’t live without it. But I got tied with one meeting after the other, so… Anyway, it’s inside my brief case.”
“…”
“What was that, honey?”
“Nothing… I said your ice cream’s melting.”

Spenserian, Shakespearean, Petrarchan Bodhisattvas

You still awake?... Same here. I can’t seem to make sense of everything. The whole scavenger hunt is giving me an excruciating headache, and frankly, I’m tired of explaining.
Of course, I never got my phone back. You don’t expect a hundred peso bill walking to find its owner, do you? That applies to any lost item.
I’ve laid my side of the coin, but between you and me, I’m sort of glad that I never got my phone back. Either way, it doesn’t change anything. I’m still a multitasker.
Oh, and thanks for helping me look for it.
By the way, have you seen MY phone?

Aia Sings Quite Frequently (to me)

2008-03-07T01:15:00.000-08:00

When my admission letter arrived last week, I was neither surprised nor complacent. I had it coming, see, primarily because I’m not the hysterical type. If someone was to call me right now and inform me that I have won a million bucks in some raffle, I wouldn’t be all over, leaping and way hysterical. I’d take it as it is, with a few shots of tequila on the side. But I would probably let my phone ring longer than usual; I finish the song first before I pick up. It’s not my fault if I’m not good with surprises. To be honest, that admission letter was late. I had known weeks ago that I’d be a law freshman by come June, and ESP had absolutely nothing to do with it. I just knew. Sounds esoteric and way self-assured, but that’s just how it is. I sort of knew.

So when it rained this morning precisely after I have finished watering the plants and cleaning my car, I knew something was up. Something was bound to happen, which, quite frankly, seemed like straight out of Greek drama, but I can’t think of how else to describe it. I was never good with metaphors and all that English-major stuff. I mean, I know a simile when I see one, and irony is I on an everyday basis, but that’s about it. While everyone I knew breezed through their Oedipus Rex and Beowulf back in high school, I, on the other hand, hid behind my taller classmate come English class. It was, in a word, hellish.

Petrarchan, Shakespearean, Spenserian, Iliad, Odyssey, Catcher in the Rye, Divine Comedy, The Tempest, Macbeth, Satanic Verses, The Art of War, In the Grove, Mrs. Dalloway, Anne Sexton, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Ernest Hemingway, Metamorphosis, Crime and Punishment, Umberto Eco, Veni, Vedi, Veci… the list goes on and on.
And I just fooled you.

“Please come in. Have a seat.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Nervous?”
“A little, ma’am.”
“Don’t be.”
“… “
“You know, student affairs told me that you almost didn’t make it today. They had a hard time reaching you.”
“Oh. Well, I’m glad to be here.”
“They informed me that you were not picking up when they were calling you.”
“I’m sorry about that ma’am. I was… well, thing is, I would always finish the song first before I pick up.”
“…”
Oh, God. There’s the look.
“Why do you want to be a lawyer?”
“I’m not sure how to address that.”
“You don’t know why you want to be a lawyer?”
“Yes, I do… I guess I just have a lot of reasons.”
“Like?”
“Well ma’am, I grew up with lawyers. My parents are lawyers. As a kid I would see people seek legal advice from them.”
“I see. Anything else?”
“Funny you should press. If you have the time, I’d like to tell you a story. I think that would sum up all the reasons in me.”
“Go ahead. But make it quick. There are still hundreds waiting in line.”
“Thank you. It’s rather short, actually. When I was in 1st grade, I went home after school and found my mom eating wild lychees in our kitchen. She asked how my day went, and offered me some wild lychees, probably because there were so many of them… there was one big basket full of them, I think. And then I asked her why she bought a lot. She told me she didn’t buy those, ‘said a client dropped by and paid her with lychees because he was short in cash. I asked about the case, and she told me that she was representing the daughter of the man who came by.”
“Did you ask what the case was about?”
“As I remember, the man’s daughter was raped. And she was a minor at the time, that’s why her father would always accompany her.”
“Interesting.”
“It grew with me through the years, that scene, I mean. Eventually, I met that girl, after the court reached its decision. The guy who raped her was the son of their town’s mayor. He was found guilty.”
“… “
“But I thought it was weird, though.”
“What was weird?”
“Well, sure, the guy was found guilty and sent to prison. But it doesn’t make up for anything. That girl’s going to spend the rest of her life having that memory grow within her. Even if she was paid with damages. Money can’t erase what happened.”
“The court does not try to erase what happened. The Law, for that matter, does not try to erase anything. It just simply delivers a message.”
“That no one is above the law?”
“Yes, and that it makes sure that rape or homicide or murder do not happen again.”
“But we know that’s not how it goes, right?”
“Precisely. So, why do you want to be a lawyer?”

◊◊◊

Frankly, I have no idea. I found myself asking the same question even on my way home. Why do I want to be a lawyer? I can’t pronounce verdict on all criminals. I can’t clean the system. I can’t make sure that nothing bad will ever happen to anybody. I certainly can’t assure myself or my parents that I will be a public attorney, despite their request. How can you know what you’re going to do until you do?
After the interview that afternoon, I decided to treat myself with a chocolate ice cream before I headed to school. I was bound to spend the night at the publications office that evening because of an impending deadline. I was halfway with my ice cream when Idlip started playing and Aia started wailing.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you?”
“Still at the mall. What’s up?”
“What took you so long to pick up?”
“I was finishing the song.”
“…”
“You’re weird, do you know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
“Where are you going afterwards?”
“Home. I’ll just pick up a few things then I’ll go straight to school. Why?”
“Nothing. I’m on my way as well. See you there. Hey, buy some chips and soda for tonight.”
“Okay. Have water delivered to the office. I’ll bring coffee.”
“Sure. I’m bringing food, too. Is Bevs coming?”
“Yeah, she is. But she told me she’s going home first after her class. How about Dhennis?”
“I think he’s already there. I asked him to upload an Anti-virus program. Darn computers keep on screwing just when I’m about to save my article.”
“Cool. I’ll see you there.”
“Okay. See you there.”
Paolo’s a one midget organizer. He decides when to have a presswork and we just show up, which is weird since he’s not the boss of me.
When did he become the boss of me?
But I did what was instructed; I bought some food and headed home. The ice cream lost its flavor, and not long after, my appetite.
As I packed my overnight clothes, Idlip started wailing again.
I have to change my ring tone.
Every time my phone rings, I feel like clearing my bed of accumulated trash and lying down ‘til the backache fades.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you?”
“Home. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
“Okay. Just checking. I’m already here at the pub. Bevs is on her way. Hurry up.”
Stop calling me then. “May I take a bath first?”
“Okay. Just hurry. The sooner we start, the better.”
The water provided comfort to my prolonged headache, but my backache hit the wall when water seemed colder than it usually was.
I hate December. Christmas and shopping and the ruckus that follows the entire hullabaloo. Somehow I needed a bath after the interview. I wasn’t stinking but I needed to scour the dirt and the disappointment of being such a pompous fart.
That was the freaking dean, for crying out loud! What the hell were you thinking?!

◊◊◊

“Where have you been?”
“Home. I just got out. I had chores to finish.”
I knew it. The firing squad I had to face for being an hour late.
“So?”
“So?”
“How was it?”
“How was what?”
“The interview. How was your interview? It was earlier today, right?”
“Yeah, how was it?”
“What did they ask you?”
“Easy, guys. They just asked the usual.”
“Like what?”
“Hey, pass me that chicken!”
“Like why do I want to be a lawyer. Like why I chose their school. That kind of stuff. Boring.”
“Hey did you bring some coffee? I’ll be doing my thesis later.”
“Yeah I did. It’s in the plastic bag. You guys uploaded any Anti-virus thing on the computers?”
“Yeah. Bevs here downloaded a program on the internet… “
“But it’s only going to be for a few days. We have to reformat these babies, and soon.”
“After we finish the editions, then we’ll take those to the IT office.”
“You informed them already?”
“Hey how was your interview?”
“Nerve-wrecking. My palms were sweating the whole time. I had to excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room.”
‘You? Nervous? I don’t think so.”
“Yeah. No way!”
“Way. I was nervous. I mean, it was a make or break kind of thing. If I don’t pass the interview, I’m a goner.”
“Oh yeah, that’s the second part.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll pass.”
“I hope so.”
“You will.”
“I’m hungry. Let’s eat first.”
“Delivery or we go out?”
“Who’s going to call McDonalds?”
“I will. What are you guys having?”
And the orders rained on me, after making the most stupid excuse ever. Call McDonalds just so they would stop asking how everything went. Big deal.
Stop fidgeting, you idiot.

◊◊◊

And then it came. The magic envelope. The future of this young, one time ADD-suffering bloke who happens to thrive best by being a Marxist. Opportunities have passed me by because the first thing that administrators notice about me is my Marxist perception of everything, which is an asset these days, depending on who you ask. So I have decided to return where I learned the discipline of thought during my younger years. Law and Marxism: they make a deadly combination. Include me in the equation and you have a first class introvert. That and an angry mob floating inside my evil head.
Crucify the rapist!
Whenever I tell people that I’m naturally shy, they look at me with judgmental yet passive eyes that scream of disbelief. The initial reaction is that they think I’m lying.
Why would I lie about being shy, of all things? If I’m going to lie about anything and have a good chance of convincing others, I’d lie about dating Alfie.
I don’t blame them. It’s their own stupidity. They equate shyness with shame.
I read the contents of the letter, which said nothing extraordinary. I passed, and I should be enrolling by summer. I am required to attend the program for freshmen by the end of summer. Uniform, text books, new apartment, new classmates, new environment, old city… they danced in my head and they were all totally uncoordinated, to be honest.
Was that boogie or rumba? I never knew any morsel of me could dance ballroom, especially since I find it least adorable. And how do I explain the predicament I am in? Barely convincing, to be exact. God, I suck!
I must have made quite an impression on the dean. Cool. Maybe we can have coffee some time.
I doubt it.
There’s this whole issue of going or not going. I mean, I took the exam. I want to be a lawyer. But when I said I want to be a lawyer, I didn’t mean NOW. I’d like to take a break after undergraduate since I hardly take a vacation. But no, my mom says I shouldn’t waste time, shouldn’t waste the years because I’ll end up not enrolling if I take a break. What is time anyway? What is space? What consumes time and space? Sure, I get it, the world has less space than before and time is running fast. I don’t understand why we keep on running after time. What’s the point of running after something that isn’t meant to be caught? I don’t hear people say they climb trees because they want to touch the stars.
Sadly, I have become the little prince. And the world is full of baobabs.

◊◊◊

The most ironic thing in a mandated presswork is that I go over the hours. ALONE. The other three snore off when the clock hits 1am. Great.
We have this cot that we keep at the storage room along with the pillows, blankets, old newspapers and computer boxes. We seldom use them, since we usually stay only ‘til seven in the evening. On overnights, we stay up ‘til everything is done. Except for Bevs, who hits the sheets by eleven. Lately, I have noticed that one in the morning signals snoring; their eyes and backs rejuvenate with a sudden compulsion to play dead. And I, the Dormicum-consuming pompous fart, stay up ‘til the following day. I used to doze off at four in the morning. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. Developments happen, and we humans continue to evolve. I now sleep at 7am, sometimes 8. Woop-tee-doo-da.
And then, my phone rings. Nothing’s worse than a phone ringing just when you’re ready for bed. Don’t get me wrong. I love hearing my phone ring. Aia has the most amazing voice, and she never fails to lull me to sleep.
*Sleep will set me free.
Fact is, I rarely get the required sleep, and when I’m all set to doze off, something ruins it for me. Pfft. The perils of being wanted at all times. For the record I’d like to say that I love sleep. As Ernest Hemingway once said, “my life has a tendency to fall apart when I’m awake.” Amen.

◊◊◊

I hate it when people edit my piece without asking me what I’m trying to say.
Ask me! That’s what your tongue is for!
“So, are you going to push through with your plan?”
“I don’t know. Would you if you were me?”
“I don’t know. Law school isn’t for me.”
“But if you were me, what would you do?”
“Hmm. I would think about it.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“That I’ll have a hard time adjusting. I’m afraid I will realize, eventually, that it’s not for me. And by then, I would have wasted a lot of money. I don’t want to break my parents’ hearts, you know.”
“Why did you apply when you don’t feel like going through the whole thing anyway?”
“I want to. I know that I want to. I’m just not sure if I want to go through this now.”
“Okay, so let’s say you shelf this for now. What are you going to do?”
“Work, I guess.”
“You guess. That’s not good enough.”
“Look. I don’t know what I want but I do know what I don’t want.”
“That’s hard. Good luck. Something tells me you’re going to need lots of it.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Aia started singing. I can’t even explain how much I love my phone. And deadlines.

◊◊◊

“So why did you to apply here?”
“It’s the best law school in the land.”
“What makes it the best?”
“Well ma’am, it has produced some of the best lawyers that we have now. Your faculty boosts of talented and smart people.”
“Like who?”
“…”
“I’m afraid your time is up. We’ll just send you a letter about the results of your interview.”
“Thanks, ma’am.”
“Pleasure talking to you. Please call the next applicant on your way out.”
“…”
“Yes?”
“I’m not getting in, am I?”
“Well… it’s too soon to tell. We’ll send you a letter. Or you can check our website. We’ll post the results as well.”
“When will you release the results?”
“On February, probably the last week.”
“Okay, thanks again.”
“Yeah. Pleasure. Keep your spirits up. You’ll never know.”
Suddenly my right thigh vibrated. It was awkward, but I had to get that call. Aia was singing, much to the dismay of the dean.
Great. Just when I was told to put my phone on silent mode!
I was compelled to cut the song short, but hey, if you’re calling me then that means YOU need to talk to ME, ergo, you must wait ‘til I pick up. And I’ll pick up after the song is thru.
“Where are you?”
“Just stepped out of the dean’s office. What’s up?”
“We have a presswork tonight.”

◊◊◊

It rained this morning. I don’t know why. I’m a pompous fart. The sky had to shed tears for me because I wouldn’t. Tears of joy. Congratulations! You passed! We knew you’d pass! When will you enroll? Do you need us to accompany you? Do you want to stay in a dorm or you want to have your own apartment? You have to study hard. These are the best years… A good foundation will go a long way, especially when you take the bar exam… yes, I think it would be wise to venture into criminal law afterwards. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’d be the 1st lawyer among your cousins.
I’m a pompous fart. I’m a pompous fart. I’m a pompous fart. I have to constantly remind myself that I’m a prick. The sky cried because I wouldn’t. My parents were ecstatic because I wasn’t. My friends were in awe because I wasn’t. My car broke down last night in the middle of the road because I wouldn’t.
Have I suddenly turned into a baobab? Have I become a schmuck?
Maybe I might as well be one of them baobabs. Uproot me so I won’t do any damage in the long run. Or that gigantic fish that nearly killed Santiago. Or that guy who refers to his writing style as “cinematic”, even without knowing what it means or what cinematic really is. Pretentious people in different forms… I guess we’re not so different after all.
I still have two more months to think things over, before summer hits. But if you know me, you’d guess that I have double the time to think. Besides, baobabs grow in the dark. And while Aia still sings a lot, I’m afraid it has lost its effect on me. I let it ring, though. My phone, I mean. Can’t help it if some people enjoy talking to a would-be lawyer. Or a pompous fart. Whoever they’re calling, it doesn’t matter. She sings and I answer. That’s just the way I like it.
And I just fooled you.

(*From the album Probably Not But Most Definitely by Imago)

I am migrating, and soon!

2008-03-04T01:49:00.000-08:00

I am sick of what's happening around me. The Makati rally. The neverending masses for peace. The Senate hearings. The oral arguments at the Supreme Court. Jun Lozada, for that matter. I turn the television on and I see him. I flip through the newspapers and I see him. I switch the radio and I hear him. Evrywhere I go, every turn I make, I see the guy.
Perhaps I have grown cynical as far as this country is concerned. Perhaps I have had enough of every political turmoil that I have never grown accustomed to hearing; who knows, maybe both. No one can blame me. I have had enough.
Do we really think that EDSAs will forever be the solution to the problem?... We hate a president, we go to EDSA. We despise whoever's in the government, we go to EDSA. How many EDSAs will it take for us to learn that WE have the power to make the whole thing stop, if we vote right, if we turn to ourselves and say enough is enough? I have had it with this country because we are going nowhere.
22 years ago, we exercised democracy to a T. Our parents went to EDSA to support Cory Aquino. They wanted change. It proved to be a powerful tool, that rally, because the Marcoses stepped down and fled the country. Several years after, we allowed the traitor to be buried alongside the heroes of this nation, which goes to say, we regard him a hero as well. The Marcoses went back to the Philippines, one by one, and slowly, penetrated the political scene. Although they fed on their provincemates' support, the fact that they were an active part of this country's democracy could mean we are being too lenient, too callous to forget the past.
Years after, the same guy who allowed Marcos to be laid alongside heroes became the next target of the People Power Revolution, hence, EDSA II. I was a proud participant of the said rally. I was a part of history. The youth made a difference. Right before us, the constitutional successor swore to protect the Filipino people from any danger and serve the country with honesty, integrity, compassion and rule of law. Seven years later, the same successor became the target of the media and the senate for being married to a corrupt lawyer with a faint heart.
What's wrong with this picture?
I'll tell you what's wrong. Everything.
It's a ruckus out there. Jose De Venecia bolting out of PGMA's camp, reconciling with ousted former President Joseph Estrada, joining the chains of masses on schools, churches all over the country, calling for PGMA's resignation. Then comes Jun Lozada, the "kidnapped" witness, testified before the senate and the whole country, and linked former COMELEC Chair Benjamin Abalos, Mike Arroyo, Mike Defensor, DENR Sec. Lito Atienza, and God knows who else, as pioneers and pawns respectively, to the anomalies and corruption involving the ZTE-NBN Contract.
And then there's former NEDA Chief Romulo Neri. God knows what he was thinking.
Who could forget the man who started it all? Joey De Venecia, son of the deposed House Speaker. The other knight-errant.
Let me summarize the whole thing. Maybe it will clear things out. Joey De Venecia wanted his company, Amsterdam Holdings, to handle the NBN Contract. Romulo Neri studies the whole project to make sure that it proceeds clean. Abalos brokers for ZTE Corp., a Chinese company that handles telecommunications. Jun Lozada steps in as consultant, not just of the whole project but to serve as bridge of De Venecia and Abalos in case anyone of the two goes wayward. He proposes a revised plan that compensates both ends. Abalos wants a bigger sum of money, De Venecia reacts, they meey at Wack Wack, Mike Arroyo steps in and aks the younger De Venecia to back off the project. NBN Contract is awarded to ZTE Corp. and then De Venecia blows the whistle, which explain why Senators Villar, Roxas,Gordon, the younger Cayetano and Madrigal continue to grandstand and waste the taxpayers' money. All of a sudden Cory Aquino decides to pray and takes Lozada with him, Estrada started talking, the opposition started blabbing, Ramos starts saying something, the schools started hogging newspaper spaces, veiwers are clicking remote controls between GMA 7 and ABSCBN, activists startted flooding EDSA and Makati, and students started their own rallies. All of these are happening in their own time and space while the peso plunges to oblivion.
There. I have summarized everything. Now, can we please make sure this does not happen again, for the Nth time? Because if you look closely, they are fighting for the same things that Christ said we shouldn't lose our heads over: money, power, fame.
This is the main reason why couldn't give a damn about world issues and yet we manage to drool over Piolo Pascual.
If you fool us once, shame on them. If you fool us twice, shame on us. How many times have we been fooled?

The Root of Nothingness

2008-02-28T00:13:00.000-08:00

I have this thing with power. I think it's scary. I think all those who have attained power, the ones who have gained access, have, in one way or the other, turned corrupt. I think that's the main reason.

Don't get me wrong. There are still those who have managed to maintain such eloquent, humble and sunny disposition about power despite several temptations not to. I like them and I respect them. Unfortunately, there are those who think of power as the end all-be all of everything, the gravity of individual necessities disguised as such. I have no respect for them. None at all.

Wish I could say I know the most grand people on earth, grand but phony. Forgive me for dragging the Holden Caulfield-phase out of the closet. I am Holden Caulfield. I am not trying to be, but I know for a fact that if my life were a novel, it would be Catcher in the Rye. I have this innate hatred towards anything bland. phony, hypocritical, and yes, schools.

Schools. Now we're talking.

In a nutshell, schools are among the best things that has ever happened to humans... 'til committees came along. I hate schools but learning appeals to me. I like the idea of learning, but if I'm learning from phonies then we have a big problem. Because I don't intend to sit at a class when I know for myself that I could teach the whole course, because the teacher is being a prick.

Power in the wrong hands: a teacher dissecting a course for reporting. Duh. I wish reptilians of those kind would die of boredom, because they are killing us all.

Expect more from my sudden impulse to expose power and how it corrupts people, including your next-door neighbor. I have a lot of experience, believe me.

Lord of the Flies

2008-02-27T00:48:00.000-08:00

It's a cold day today... and I'm a little concerned about my lips and all. I'm twice as prone to frostbites, as any family member would attest.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I have yet to finish writing my short story for that Dumaguete thing. And I have to, if I intend to beat the deadline. See, the whole law school issue isn't bugging me at all, but I figurred it will if I don't get all the creative juice out of the way. I have to be creative; it's more of a serious calling for me, but at the same time I love my mom. And whatever makes her happy makes me happy. It's not like I don't want to be a lawyer; it's my dream since I was tyke. But I have a lot of things going for me... well, at least that's how it seems.

That Dumaguete thing will, hopefully, direct all my energy into something that could be a fallback should I decide to take a break from this crazy world. I am serious about writing as much as being a damn fine lawyer; honestly I think I could do both. Who's to say what I can and can't do? Nobody has the monopoly on spiritual endeavors, spiritual, being the source of what moves your soul, what compells a person to pursue life despite the madness that we are engulfed in.

I would not want to wallow on the messy details of this world, although I probably should. Maybe not for now; I have yet to prepare to unfold what I think of what and when, where, how and why. But in time, I will.

A Preview of the impending What-not

2008-02-26T03:28:00.000-08:00

I'm a little cold. I don't like the cold weather, although I find it tolerable. It's this global warming issue... some people can't accept the fact that they are living in the filth that they themselves have created.
A few months from now, and I'll be off somewhere. A new place, new experiences (I hope nice ones), new people... admittedly, I sometimes fear the thought of leaving home. I've grown accustomed to the environment; I've been here since God knows when! But there comes a time when one has to leave home to meet and greet other beings, creations of the worldly order.

Weee!

2008-02-26T01:27:00.000-08:00

My first blog in a looong time.. aint that something?
I have to say, i have given up on the blog thing. People reading what you have written, commenting on everything that struck a nerve.. that sorth of scenario. As a kid, I would keep a journal, if you could call it that at the time, and write all sorts of what-nots. It was weird, because I have two older sisters who redefined fun by reading what the youngling had engraved. It was embarassing, but not as embarassing, as, say, someone copying your blog entry about smoking.

Yes, that prompted me to give up online journal. Somebody copied my entry, at least a friendster user. I don't remember how I ended up in that guy's homepage; all I remember was swearing afterwards.

I guess this is a new thing altogether. It's never easy to write everything that floats in your head, especially at a time like this. To describe my current disposition as busy is definitely an understatement!

So I'll just drop by from time to time, maybe encode a line or two. But nevertheless, my year's been going great so far, so there's no reason to start anew. Booyah!