silent movie

Earphones plugged into my ears, with sounds resonating in my head while shutting out every noise around me, the world through my eyes looked like a silent movie in a giant screen.

I can hear neither the voices of people nor the noise of the streets. It seemed like a fast-paced surreal scene, where people everywhere move about, exchanging glances with strangers who disappear just as they came.

I saw a young pedicab driver adoringly holding the hands of a lady his age, sitting comfortably in the pedicab. The boy wore a knee-length shorts and a white shirt turned dull by the dust. The girl wore skimpy shorts and a colorful tight sando. They must have been teasing each other, for such grins on their faces only appear to those young at heart.

Then there was this long-haired teenaged girl wearing the white uniform of what could only be a science profession. She had that arching eyebrows of a supladita I so wanted to have and a distant face indifferent to the world around her. She walked fast but with grace; she walked with grace, but she walked alone.

Waiting to cross the streets, I looked at the approaching vehicles of different colors and makes, all devoid of sound. I imagined myself crossing as they approach and wondered how it feels to be hit by one of them. Curiosity. Without sound, they are not as scary.

As I went inside the school, the lack of people was unmistakable. The loud sounds continue to thump on and on. Without words spoken, the gloomy mood abound, the inescapable result of the rather incomprehensible violence that injured innocent students---that seriously injured female students. The air was filled with cries for justice, but the smell of terror of what had happened was distinct in the air.

Inside the jeepney, the music was inconsiderately loud. So loud I could no longer hear the loud music from my earphones. It shattered the silence around me; it destroyed my thoughts, just like that.

Some people, or some things, are just bound to destroy one's silent life.

sumptuous lunch

Wuhoo! It's our company's second-year anniversary, and because of that, the boss' is treating us at an Italitan restaurant here in Makati...this lunch! =)

It is actually the first time that the company I am working for is treating me to a fine dining. In my old company, the copy editing department had been treated for a box of pizza after accomplishing a tremendous workload, and well, it actually came from Sir B's and Sir P's pockets, NOT from the company.

Oh, well. There lies the beauty of a small company. Of course, the big ones also have their perks, but for now, I enjoy the intimacy and the delicacy that come with my office now. =) I am planning to eat a lot, totally disregarding my already bulging tummy and the best fat burning exercises my friends insist on me. It's so happy eating!

I have one problem though. I couldn't understand the menu! har har har!

baby boom!

baby boom - a marked rise in birthrate (as in the United States immediately following the end of World War II)

And as in the end of World War II, our section in law school is also having a baby boom! Perhaps it just feels odd because we're still in school, but when you think about it, a person who already graduated, according to our old customs, can already start a family. Haven't we heard, "makatapos ka lang ng pag-aaral, pwede ka ng mag-asawa!" so many times from parents?

This semester, there are two preggies (one of whom just gave birth last week) and one whose girlfriend is pregnant (who gave birth yesterday!). So we have three would-be parents this semester. I admire them for still continuing law school despite the pregnancy, especially the two girls. I know there are months that are most difficult for them, and yet they have surpassed all that while dealing with the stress of law school. On top of our law books, they were reading top 10 prenatal vitamins and child-rearing books. They were preparing for their coming baby and going on checkups and such. Ang galing nila! Besides, they look glowing. =)

This baby boom in our class enlightens all our mood. Whenever we talk about the coming babies, we all get excited, especially when talking about baby names! Next semester, we'd be talking about their toddlers. =)

hand talk

Whew! Today, I accomplished a great feat---I finished handwriting 114 pages of case digests! *bow*

Just this afternoon, I was desperate that I would not be able to finish it on time. I could not help but blame everything for it. I thought of how my grade school teacher should have corrected the way I hold a pen; perhaps, it would not hurt as bad when writing long pages. I blamed the invention of the typewriter (and text messages) for people's overreliance on machines that we detest writing by hand, et cetera, et cetera. But of course, there is only me to blame. :) The project was given since June, and the crammer that I am, I started working on it just this Sunday. haha. So who suffered? I did... rather, my right hand did!

Just imagine writing by hand for 20 hours straight, until 330 a.m., then sleeping until 6 a.m., and then handwriting again up to 430. I never even got the chance to each lunch! Darn... Just when I was craving for the buttered rice that I asked my father to prepare for me! It felt like my hand wanted to bleed, but it just did not. haha. Honestly, it really hurts a lot, up to now, and all I want is to stay away from a ballpen (not an eczema treatment or a hand massage). When I look at my right hand now, it seemed to have grown 10 years older than my left hand. haha. I am just so happy it's over!!!

At around 11 pm, I was already tired, but my hands did not hurt much. I used a Panda ballpen. I realized it is more dependable than the other, more expensive brands. It doesn't blot easily. Notice that I don't know how to hold a pen properly (hence, the ugly handwriting....joke!)

At 1 a.m., I have added 2 more band-aids to my aching hand to lessen the friction between the ballpen and my skin and to prevent calluses. I always wear band-aid in my middle finger whenever I write, a habit I formed in law school. It feels like I absorb more whenever I do that. :D

At 3:30 a.m., I could no longer force my hand to write! Even the bandages were already worn-out! So I retired for the night, and started writing again from around 7 a.m. to 430 p.m. I was 15 minutes close to missing the deadline. Whew! This will never happen again! EVER!

There goes the story of my hardworking right hand. Yung left hand tatamad-tamad. :p

conversation piece

Last weekend, I was talking to a girl 4 years younger than I am. She is pregnant.

We aren't really that close, so we had nothing much to talk about. I only knew her recently through his boyfriend, who is my friend. The two of them attended my grandmother's birthday party. At around 11 p.m., I noticed that she's already sleepy, so I looked for her boyfriend to tell him that she seemed already bored and that maybe he should take her home. As he was still discussing something with my cousin, he told me, "chikahin mo muna."

So I went back to our table and started asking about her pregnancy. I realized it was kinda weird that we were talking about pregnancy when all I could really tell her were hearsays and stories from others. On the other hand, of course, she was talking from experience. It was a rather serious talk, not like the usual showbiz chikas, Black Friday collections, or the latest events in our friends' lives. She was talking about "mommyhood," while I was talking about, well, "tita-hood".

It's not that I already want to have a kid of my own. I am far from being ready for that and now isn't really a good time to have one. I guess it's just that more and more people I know are starting their own families, even this girl 4 years younger than I am. Conversations have been changing, and I wonder if there would come a time that I could no longer relate.

live to fight another day

Still a month to go, and it already feels that the semester is over, even if the most difficult part is yet to come.

Perhaps the emotion is one not of excitement but that of relief. I have started the school year seriously hesitating to enroll, if not for the pang of sadness that struck my grandmother's face when I told her so. I convinced myself that, perhaps, my pursuit of law is my pursuit of justice for my existence. But really, it's simple: it is my dream.

I remembered last January, when I just could not lock all the strong emotions inside anymore -- the sadness, the loneliness, the regret, the helplessness, the confusion, and the hopelessness -- I went to see the school's guidance counselor. Normally, I would laugh at the idea of talking to someone you barely know. Then again, I do not want to "talk" to people I know. I just don't feel like sharing.

I found myself in her green study room after class. She had a very kind face and seemed eager to listen. After her first question, it was probably, "what's wrong?" I couldn't answer for a minute or two. I did not know where to start, or how to start. After my first sentence, tears started flowing. I just went on and on. Before I realized it, almost an hour had already passed. She seemed genuinely concerned for my being (or she just had a very good training on psychology) and advised me to postpone law school. She said she always tell students not to give up, not to drop, and to just pursue law school as much as they can. But she said, she had to say otherwise in my case. She feared that my body would just break down one day, especially my mind. I could always come back to school when things aren't as hard as they are now, she said

The cliche is right. I actually felt "lighter" after talking to that wonderful woman. Obviously, I did not heed her advice, but I am just thankful she listened to me. Now, the semester is again almost over, after several plans of dropping, and I already feel relief that I could finish this one. I guess I live to fight another day.

time is of the essence

Time is of the essence...*

...such that in a highly populated urban city, people roam the streets, 24 hours a day. In the morning, we walk fast, almost running, never stopping to look around and only moving toward our offices, lest we get late and face the fury of the boss. We are always in a constant hurry. We have to be at fastfood before 12 noon before the line gets long. We have to eat fast so we can come back to our offices on time. After office, we have to run to get into the already-moving-away bus. Sometimes we feel like a robot; but sometimes still, we feel so alive.

And sometimes we miss out on little details and important things, the so-called simple joys of life. The Panerai clock is ticking, and yes, we've met all the deadlines. We have survived it all. But when we look back, we realize, "time is of the essence, why have i wasted it so?"

*and life is a compromise.