Nothingness

Your Time to Shine

2011-03-31T11:34:00.001+08:00

I am loving this corner that I found myself in. From the side lines where I sit, I’m loving watching you get bigger and prouder, grow tough scales and learn to breathe fire.

You see, in the almost-six years that we’ve been together, I’ve seen you at your worst. But I have always believed that at your best, you could change the world.

I cannot tell you how proud I am of what you have achieved. There can be no greater enemy than one’s self, which is why there can be no sweeter victory than the triumph over one’s own demons. But I’m not surprised because I have seen this coming. I’ve had faith in you, long before you started believing in yourself.

Okay. This is as far as the drama gets. From this point on, let us celebrate. It’s your time to shine, so here’s to more, sweeter, bigger conquests ahead as you revel in your moment.

Trainspotting and Trainlistening

2010-07-18T14:59:00.003+08:00

June 18 started out as an unassuming day. I went to work, called Ronald from the office, and chatted with him about how the day was unfolding and how we wanted to conclude it. We were supposed to meet and buy stuff for the house after work. The plan was to catch up in the middle of the Alabang-Zapote road, in that mall that has it all so I could leave the office and he could step out of his house at the same time and we could get there at the same time, too.

And then he asked me if I had heard Train's song, "Hey, Soul Sister." He said it was his song-of-the-moment for me. I said "no," but I would Google it. I did, and loved the song in the same measure that I loved "Drops of Jupiter."

At some point before work ended, Ronald decided he would just go and fetch me. Daddy came home early and so we had Nolly Navara all to ourselves.

So there. He showed up downstairs at 6 p.m.-ish, and we left. At the last minute, we decided to go to ATC, have dinner first and go house-stuff-shopping later. As we were walking to the Food Court, we heard someone playing in the middle of the mall. It must be some Korean boy band, we thought. When we inched closer to the railings on the second floor, imagine how surprised we were when we found out it was Train.

So we stayed behind until they played "Hey, Soul Sister" and "Drops of Jupiter". And we left to eat dinner when people were lining up already for Pat's autograph and to have their pictures taken with the entire band.

It was a blast. And I have been Trainlistening since then.

Ronald asked me last week if I had heard their song "Marry Me." He loaded it in my iPod and I've had it in my playlist since then. He said that was his song-of-the-moment this time for me.

Six Birthdays and a Lifetime

2010-06-26T10:57:00.002+08:00

It feels like it wasn't so long ago when Ronald and I were sitting next to each other in a gazebo at the back of Tuna Deli -- that now-crappy bar that we used to love going to. We were celebrating his birthday night together, drinking, while the rest of his family prayed that his sister from Down Under safely deliver her first baby girl.

Sophia turns six today. Tempus fugit.

Six birthdays, five years and two months together, a slew of (mis)adventures that shaped our relationship. Like a diamond perfected from the rough. It's not the smoothest there is. There are bumps and sharp corners and some unpolished surfaces. But I guess the best thing about it is that we love all beauty and the imperfections in equal measure. We have learned to appreciate the best in each other, and handle the worst, so that at the end of the day, we remain whole and sane and looking forward to what lies for us tomorrow.

Today, I wish him joy. I wish him more of the happiness that I see in him each time we stop in our tracks and talk about the "future". I wish to see him light up more frequently, like he does, when he thinks about the house and Tala's books. I wish to spend more birthdays with him and a life full of travels and triumphs in between.

I wish him all the best the life can bring and I can give.

Here's a picture from Ronald's first airplane ride, which is not exactly our first major "flight."

Nothing to write about, writing about nothing

2010-05-21T12:54:00.003+08:00

So much has happened since my last post. Unfortunately, I have found that it is hardest to write when the memories have piled up. It becomes challenging to: 1) recall all the memories worth writing about; 2) select which memories to write about; 3) make up an apologia for writing about the things that you wrote about and not writing about the things that you left out.

To keep things simple, here is a mass unloading of the highlights of the past year. I am hoping that catharsis will follow, then the lightness of thoughts and the flowing of words.

1. Bar review and bar exams. The best of times and the worst of times for Ronald and myself. This is the period when we were closest to each other, when we felt each other's strengths and drew strength from each other as well. This period lasted from May to September, but it changed our family's lives forever.

2. Back to work. This is the prize for not burning bridges and working your ass off.

3. Beach-combing. Ronald and I went to Pagudpud to swim and tour. We saw the gigantic windmills and the old lighthouse there, along with the other minor attractions of Ilocos Norte. We also got to eat the best lutong-bahay at Papa Nard's, and got to experience our first 12-hour bus ride.

4. Ronald's first airplane ride. We went to Bohol recently to swim and tour. We see the famed Chocolate Hills and some of the really old churches there, along with the other minor attractions of Bohol. We also got to eat the best buffet at the Floating Restaurant while it floated along the Loboc River. During the plane rides, Ronald's forehead was stuck on the window. In between those drawn-out moments of fascination, Ronald would snap out of it and remind himself to look like plane rides are casual, everyday thing. Priceless.

5. Wedding plans. They are starting to shape up.

6. Bar results. Oh, I passed pala. And I cried the night Kaye called to tell me. It felt like the Niagara rushing through a burst dam. All the years of hard work, sleepless nights, burning the midnight oil along with my kilay, stressessessess, and juggling work, school and family were sucked into a whirlpool. And then I breathed easier after.

7. New life in my old work. I am happy. Ronald always reminds me that things are starting to look up, and that life is going to be better from hereon. And I am starting to believe him.

Now that I am in the here and now, here are the things to look forward to:

1. Ronald is graduating from law school. In my mind, I can see myself in that seat in PICC, beside Mommy and Daddy, looking puffed and proud.

2. Ronald's bar review and exam. Ronald doesn't want to talk about this much but I've got his whole bar ops all figured out.

3. Beach trips. We have one coming up shortly. And then we also need to try Coron during sem break. And then a long stay in our Laiya hideaway right after graduation and right before the bar review.

So there. As for this blog, I am looking forward to more energy, drive, sources of inspiration and posts.

Leaving la vida T--a

2009-05-26T13:17:00.005+08:00

How does one even begin to say goodbye?

Charing.

I've always associated leaving work with lightness--that feeling of being released finally from the oppressing monotony of a day job and the company of stupid people. This time it's different, maybe because I've been with T--a longer than my longest (and counting) relationship. And I've seen people come and go; go and come back; and come, mess things up, and get fired.

I woke up yesterday to the realization that I actually had seven days--or five days if I want to count out the unpaid weekends--left to work. It's always exciting to have something to look forward to. But as the weekend draws nearer I find that the dread and sadness are catching up fast with the initial excitement.

I don't want to be sad at a time when I should be panicking. Sadness slows you down, makes you lose your momentum, jams your gears and keeps them from turning. I measure time in pages now, such that every hour that I spend away from the book is easily 10 pages lost and unrecoverable.

So tama na ang kahibangang ito.

Maybe early next week when I have closed the gap between Article-where-I'm-at and Article-where-I-should-be, I can grease my gears one last time with the familiar laughter of friends, enough to keep them turning until September ends.

Nothingness becomes somethingness

2009-04-14T01:03:00.002+08:00

Warning: this is also incoherent.

But this is my blog. And I have every right to be as incoherent as I can be. And this being my IP, I have every right to resort to reasonable means to protect this right.

Something's happening to my nothingness of a blog! Kudos to Ronald, who's been having streaks of genius, creativity, inspiration and geekiness in equal parts this past few days. His "condition" has been compelling him to change the face and make tweaks on every blog that he knows the password to.

The facelift has got me writing again. But when I loaded up the page for the first time in weeks, the counter down right caught my attention. I freaked out. Last I remember it said 6 months or something. Now it's 4 months 22 days! Where have I been? Where did the two months go? But every second I'm freaking out is a second lost forever--like a spoken word and its fleeting echo.

Echos.

"Welcome back" post

2009-04-09T23:47:00.009+08:00

Warning: this is incoherent.

It feels like forever since my last post. My fingers are nimble but my mind is still cobwebby from the residues of my previous life. You know, life as a full-time student with a full-time job, trying--but failing, sometimes desperately--to be a full-time lover at the same time.

Have you ever found yourself in a cusp? That point where you're ready to leave everything behind and jump off into...nothingness (which happens to be the title of this blog)? In high school, English class, we were asked to do a persuasive speech on any topic that we wanted. My speech was all about death. And my goal was to persuade my audience to not fear death. My premise was that we fear death because we don't know what lies after it. But "not knowing" doesn't mean it's a bad thing. It simply means "not having knowledge," which is actually a neutral thing. And until we know for a fact that death is a dark, devouring place, there is no point in fearing it. But of course, I wasn't convinced myself.

And so, about three weeks ago, while the powers that be were on a round table in school trying to decide the fate of us twenty, I feared the fear that most of us feel with death, which is associated with uncertainty.

But God is good, especially to those who work their asses off. Like the American Idol hopefuls, I leaped with joy when Jean texted that we were through to the next level. The "next level" happens to be tougher than Hollywood week. So I start working my ass off again, positive that my God will be consistently good to me as He has been in my past life.

I wanted to write a paragraph or two about God, too. So here goes...

In the past few months, I have learned three things that most people probably already know:

1) God moves in mysterious ways.

2) When you feel like your life is all messed up and every day only gets worse than the last, count your blessings.

3) God knows what you need, even if you don't pray.

Needless to say, my life since Lolo Sulping died, has been intense. Like a sponge, it was saturated with troubles that left me like a dried pulp when I fight and squeeze them out. And the troubles came in many different shapes and colors, too. When I think back on it, and try to count my blessings, I say to myself, "At least, they were anything but boring."

But I'm one big piece, and the smaller pieces of me are held together by the realization that all things do pass. Even the grieving for the dead passes and gives rise to a fresh will to live. (Which reminds me, Lola Rosa is alive and probably misses me already. I need to drop by.) Even problems that seem to have no solution at first glance have a way of sorting themselves out. And when all else fails, people like Wish Ko Lang's Vicky Morales do show up to right the wrong or to simply help you to breathe easier. (Right, Be?)

Back again to to the cusp. While I feel the fear of the unknown, I rest with the thought that from where I stand, it looks like things can only get better. I have been wrong about a lot of things, but I hope I'm right this time. But even if I turn out to be wrong, it's going to be okay because God is good. And that's one thing that I can never be wrong about.

Secret

2009-03-15T02:01:00.002+08:00

This is something that I've never told anyone else about.

There are people that you meet, or you get to know of without actually meeting, who touch your life in a different way. In a way that hurts you and leaves you traumatized. In a way that sometimes makes you doubtful about where you stand and about what you're really worth to the people that you love.

There is that one person in my life that I had attempted to make peace with. Unfortunately, this person had other plans that only I, in the beginning, could sense. While he was busy having fun it was screaming at me. It was trying to crush me, taking advantage of the fact that although I was with him, I was alone.

I had wanted to tell him how her image killed me each time I remembered what she did, and how bad the nightmares were. I hated her in the purest sense of the word, down to her veins and the blood that flowed through them. But I couldn't because she was taboo. She was, for a long time, a figment of my imagination, a monster I crafted from the stories I heard.

But tonight she was real. To him and to me. And I have never been happier now that we've buried her alive.

Now then, I can't wait to start killing her slowly from deep down her grave with the cold truth that we are actually happy and that she is actually dead to me.

Pursuit of happiness

2009-01-29T01:15:00.005+08:00

Our search is almost complete. Ever since we were young, we have walked the earth in pursuit of three people who, like the Charmed Ones, have helped changed the world and saved people from a monotonous mortal experience. For several eras, this "High" Trinity was the answer to the drabness of life. They are back, wielding their instruments to those who are enlightened.

We have found two of them...

But the last one has been elusive...

The search will be over on Saturday night at Bagaberde.

The curious case of the Alabang Boys

2009-01-25T14:28:00.004+08:00

The radio was on two days ago while I was getting ready to leave for school. It was the Senate Hearing on the "Alabang Boys" and State Prosecutor John Resado was on the hot seat.

Much was said and insinuated about how Fiscal Resado could have been bribed out of filing the case. For his part, Resado also got some primetime airtime to explain the legal and factual infirmities that led him to dismiss the case because it wouldn't stand trial anyway. After everything, I think most everyone is missing the point. And it is one which, when pursued and answered, would render everything else--related controversies, accessory accusations and ancillary questions--moot and academic.

The only real and important issue here is this: "Whether or not, in acting as he did, Fiscal Resado fulfilled his mandate in his capacity as a state prosecutor representing the Republic of the Philippines." In short, did he do his job?

The Philippine justice system may not be perfect, but it is so engineered to ensure that all parties get access to the courts and the higher interest of justice is ultimately served. In this scheme of things, the state prosecutors, who are under the Department of Justice, play an instrumental role. They are the ones that set the wheels of justice in motion. And when the judicial mechanism starts to grind, as when the case has been successfully filed before the court, the prosecutors' job continues. They represent the state throughout the litigation and work to ensure that the interest of the state and the general public is upheld via a conviction.

This peculiar role is of utmost importance in criminal cases. In every crime, the party in interest (the party who stands to be benefited or injured by the results of the case) is necessarily the state, which is why every criminal case is prosecuted in the name of the People of the Philippines. This is so because every crime is deemed to be an affront to the state and a violation of public order. The interest of the state is in fact bigger than that of the private party who was actually injured. In a criminal litigation, the injured party is reduced to being a witness for the prosecution, such that a criminal case can go on in his absence and a conviction can be had if other substantial evidence warrants the same. In criminal cases, every conviction is a victory of the state.

It is thus easy to see which side of the scale state prosecutors should be in. And it becomes more apparent why, in deciding which cases should be filed on behalf of the state, state prosecutors are only required to ascertain "probable cause" and not "guilt beyond reasonable doubt," which properly pertains to the courts.

"Probable cause" is nothing more than a reasonable belief that a person has committed a crime. The test of probable cause is whether or not, on the strength of the personal knowledge of the complainant or officer of the facts and circumstances, there exists grounds sufficient for a reasonably prudent man to believe that the person has committed an offense and should be brought to trial.

On the other hand, "guilt beyond reasonable doubt" is the highest level of proof, and the onus probandi required in criminal cases to secure a conviction. As such, more than mere personal knowledge, it is a highly a matter of evidence.

A team of drug enforcement experts, in the exercise of their official duties, were able to apprehend a group allegedly in the act of committing the high crime of selling dangerous drugs. Now, somebody tell me which part of the definition of "probable cause" the prosecutors handling the curious case of the Alabang Boys did not understand.

There may, or they may not have been irregularities in the gathering of evidence, but these are best left to the courts to rule on, based on the quantum of evidence that the law requires them to employ. Last time I checked, public officers in this jurisdiction still enjoy the legal presumption of regularity (i.e., public officers in their exercise of their official functions are presumed to have performed their duties regularly). Pieces of evidence to the contrary are rightly for judges and justices to examine in the light of this presumption, and not for the state's lawyers to use to defeat the avowed public purpose of: "safeguard[ing] the integrity of its territory and well-being of its citizenry, particularly the youth, from the harmful effects of dangerous drugs on their physical and mental well-being, and to defend the same against acts or omissions detrimental to their development and preservation," giving rise to the need "to enhance further the efficacy of the law against dangerous drugs, it being one of today's more serious social ills." (Section 2, RA 9165)

I have been trying not to end this in a spiritual tone. But I find that when you're fed up and resigned to the fact that in this part of the world, people can do the worst things and get away with it--over and over again--you find yourself turning to God. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter how many Senate hearings you survive or how many times you're vindicated in your lifetime. What matters is how God will judge you by nothing more than your conscience when your time is up.

I can almost hear Him say:

"Tinimbang ka ngunit kulang."

My blog is 7th on Google Search!

2009-01-20T18:14:00.002+08:00

Wala lang...

Next question, please

2009-01-12T00:18:00.005+08:00

Today is probably the day I got asked about wedding plans the most number of times and in the most number of variations, from the most subtle "Kelan ba kayo lalagay sa tahimik?" to the most blunt "Kelan ba ang kasal?"

I don't know why, but it seems to me that the question is just as inevitable in family gatherings as lechon and leche flan. It's bearable when it's your family gathering. But it becomes a bit awkward when it's his family that asks you such a question that is rightfully his to answer.

I don't really mind, especially because Ronald's family is so flawlessly nice. But it would have been easier if it were a press conference. Because then my press statement could have been: "We do have plans. We are engaged and we have been talking about it. But I just don't have the details to share with you right now." But it's not. And so I've found that the only safe answer that you can give is a sweet smile. (Baka maudlot pa, a la Jolens and Bebong.) It's just that after some time, your jaw starts to tighten up from too much smiling. At this point, I look at Ronald to cue him that it's his turn to smile.

What I have to understand though is why women get that question more often than men do. I guess it has a lot to do with women's biological clocks. I guess women who, like me, are not getting any younger, walk around like ticking time bombs while men, like wine, get better as they age. But it doesn't really bother me, because I plan to age the way Demi Moore and Salma Hayek are doing it.

Back to the big question. At the end of the day, I concede that despite all the wedding queries that I got, it was still Ronald who was the bigger winner of the day. After all, you don't get asked the question by your fiancee's father every day.

Will.I.Am says...Make It Funky

2009-01-07T17:44:00.005+08:00

Instructions (courtesy of Tin)

1. Put your music player on shuffle.

2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.

3. YOU MUST WRITE THE SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY," YOU SAY?

Beep (Pussycat Dolls)

Censored?

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?

Animal (Pearl Jam)

Hear me roar!

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?

Under the Floor (Switchfoot)

Talampakan?

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?

We Ride (Rihanna)

Hmmm...

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?

Through With You (Maroon 5)

With who?

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?

Moonchild (Chris Cornell)

Mahilig matulog.

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?

Breaking the Habit (Linkin Park)

I'm a hard habit to break e.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?

The Remedy (I Won't Worry) (Jason Mraz)

The legal remedy; if there is no other plain and speedy remedy, file a petition for certiorari under Rule 65.

WHAT IS 2 + 2?

How Come? (D12)

I've never been good in Math.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?

Everytime I Close My Eyes (Babyface)

Nawawala siya...

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?

Rainday (Cynthia Alexander)

Love the rain.

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?

Stacked Actors (Foo Fighters)

I could have been a movie star.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?

Stranded (Plumb)

Sa Bahamas sana.

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU THE PERSON YOU LIKE?

Fine Again (Seether)

:-)

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?

When You Were Here (Pink Floyd)

Are you kicking me out?

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?

Gold (Spandau Ballet)

Wahaha!

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?

You're In Love (Wilson Philips)

This soon? You could've waited for my babang luksa!

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?

This Is Your Life (Switchfoot)

I mean this is my life!

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?

Beautiful Girl (Sean Kingston)

Hindi pala obvious.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?

Hands Clean (Alanis Morisette)

Echusera!

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?

Even Flow (Pearl Jam)

Brand ng nipples and milk bottles?

HOW WILL YOU DIE?

Heroes (The Wallflowers)

Libingan ng Mga Bayani, here I come!

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?

Slide Along Slide (Shifty)

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?

End of the Road (Boyz II Men)

Ang haba kasi ng byahe!

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?

Desert Rose (Sting)

Ayoko ng mainit! Ayoko ng marumi! Ayoko ng masikip! Ayoko ng mabaho! Ayoko ng walang tubig! Ayoko ng putik! Ayoko ng tinatapakan ako!--Maricel Soriano, Kaya Kong Abutin Ang Langit

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?

Suntok sa Buwan (Session Road)

Sabi ko na nga ba!

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?

My Favorite Mistake (Sheryl Crow)

Ay!

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?

How I Could Just Kill a Man (Rage Against the Machine)

Pwedeng two?

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?

Playboy Mommy (Tori Amos)

They hurt me talaga. Di ba, Be?

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?

Make It Funky (Will.I.Am)

So now you get the title?

Last farewell

2008-12-20T01:38:00.007+08:00

I said my last goodbye to Lolo Sulping last night, at about 11:30. With the rest of my family, I stood by the door to the morgue to wait for the funeral parlor people to take him on a stretcher. I wanted to see how he looked one last time, before Rizal Funeral Homes' makeup artists ravaged his face with tons of foundation and lipstick the color of baduy red. In my mind, I thanked him for hanging on as long and as far as he could for us. I told him I was letting him go to rest eternally, because that was the unselfish thing to do.

I love you, Lolo.

Tahanan Sta. Luisa

2008-12-18T17:44:00.009+08:00

There is one other place that has left an indelible mark in me. I have been there only once, but when I left that sanctuary, I left behind a piece of me. I knew this because the moment I stepped out of its gates, I was lighter--relieved of my burdens, both real and (mostly) imagined.

The place is called Tahanan Sta. Luisa. I stumbled upon it when one of my two climbing groups sent out an invitation to a morning with the girls at the Tahanan. That was about three years ago, when the shelter was still an old, rented house in an inner street in Manila. Back then, it was the refuge of some over twenty abused and exploited girls. It was their halfway house from pain to recovery and reintegration in the society.

The girls there were amazing. The morning began with an opening prayer, followed by an introduction. We told them our names, and told them where we worked and what we did for a living. In turn, they told us about themselves, capping off their introductions by finishing the sentence: "Ang gusto kong maging..." Some of them said they wanted to become doctors while a few others said they wanted to become lawyers. The adults there listened as the girls shared their grandest ambitions. I, on the other hand, was calculating the possibilities that any of them would get to where they wanted to be. It was the start of a poignant experience.

The girls laughed, joked around and made merry, while we wondered where the pain from the abuse could be hiding and why we couldn't see a trace of it in them. We brought materials for making friendship bracelets, which we distributed to their delight. And then we, their ates and kuyas, assigned ourselves to groups of three to five "students" to teach them a craft we ourselves only learned minutes earlier. Their zest and zeal were contagious. Before long, it was difficult not to get involved in the intimate sense of the word.

After everyone had a finished product to show off, we served lunch and ate with them. The girls feasted on sweet and sour meatballs with rice, all their finesse in check.

What followed was an experience that would forever change my life.

When it was time to say goodbye, we gathered around in a big circle and prepared to pray. Most everyone raised their hands when the coordinator asked for volunteers. And so like the knotted strings in their friendship bracelets, the prayers weaved from girl to girl, while the adults listened intently--obviously floored and caught off-guard.

I cried. I couldn't have helped it even if I tried.

Who knows what kinds of abuses these girls have been through? But in that moment of prayer, their voices rang with innocence as they asked God to guide their ates and kuyas, and to continue to give them a good life so they could come back and visit them again. They prayed to God to make their ates and kuyas realize that no challenge is insurmountable, and to give them the strength to push on when they are growing weak. I thought, this is incredible. While we complain about every little inconvenience, how can these girls--who have been dealt by life with bad cards--find a lot of things to be thankful for. How can they selflessly pray that God give more to people like us who are better off than they are, and not ask for anything for themselves?

I realized that we do need more of what they have: faith, resiliency, contentment, and the love of life.

I went there with the intent to give. But I left with more than what I hoped for.

30 minutes before final two

2008-12-09T21:04:00.006+08:00

I have so much to do. But somehow, this Survivor episode feels like an unfinished business that's keeping me from moving on. I have been attempting to read Commercial Law Review's lesson for tomorrow, but I can't get past the first few sentence.

The New Civil Code provides that "'document of title to goods" includes any bill of lading, dock warrant, 'quedan,' or warehouse receipt or order for delivery of goods, or any other document used in the ordinary course of business in the sale or transfer of goods, as proof of possession or control of the goods, or authorizing or purporting to authorize the possessor of the document to transfer or receive either by indorsement or by delivery, goods represented by such document."

The?

So this is what I thought I'd do: Spend the 30-minutes-or-so thinking over the possible endings now that only Charisse, JC and Rob are left, and with Rob having the immunity necklace.

Tonight, Rob gets to choose who will join him in the final two. Here's my Sliding Doors take on where each choice may lead:

Rob could choose to honor his alliance with JC, just like JC has been true to him all this time. This is the most ethical and moral thing to do, I think, because if you ask me, everything that Rob is right now was because of JC. There were only two things that Rob did right throughout the game: 1) choose the best person to team up with; and, 2) stick to him. But if he does choose JC, what are the possibilities of Rob ending up as the first sole survivor? Here's how I think the jury will vote:

Jace: Rob (because JC duped him before and made him believe he was in his alliance right after the merge)

Kiko: JC (because he thinks Rob sucks)

Verns: Rob (because they have a thing)

Kaye: JC (because he took her with him to a reward)

Marlon: Rob (only because I think he had an affinity with Rob when he was still in the game, but I'm not really sure because he's crazy)

Zita: JC (maybe, because he took her with him to a reward, but I'm not sure because Nanay can be so gullible)

Cris: JC definitely (because he thinks Rob is not desrving)

Charisse: JC definitely (because she appreciates how he trusted her and kept his promise to her)

If you ask me, in a JC-against-Rob scenario, JC will have a bigger chance of snagging the P3M pot. So if Rob has been thinking, and decides to be evil at the last moment, he could choose Charisse, thinking that he would have a better chance of winning if he's pitted against her. In that case, here's how I think the votes will go:

Jace: Charisse (because they are both Jarakay)

Kiko: He might go for Charisse (because he hates Rob, to begin with, and he will hate him even more if he votes off JC)

Verns: Rob (see reason above)

Kaye: Charisse or Rob (I can't really say because it's impossible to guess what somebody is thinking when she's not really thinking)

Marlon: Charisse (because they are both Jarakay)

Zita: Rob (because they are both Naak)

Cris: Charisse (see reason above)

JC: Charisse (because if he gets voted off by Rob, he will realize that Rob never really deserved his trust and will try to "correct" his mistake)

Simply put, I think Rob doesn't stand a chance against Charisse either, if it's down to the two of them. So if I were Rob, I might as well keep JC, and keep my soul intact and my heart in the right place also.

But I overanalyze, and it's taking out the excitement in all the waiting and expecting. So I'll stop now and wait out the next 10 minutes by trying to make sense of what "documents of title to goods" means.

Lolo Sulping

2008-12-01T15:52:00.007+08:00

At 81, Lolo Sulping is nowhere near the fearless man of the masses that he was in his heyday. He has been bedridden for almost a year now, and has been in and out of the hospital thrice within the last month. Everything about him looks weak. When he breathes, he looks as though he's hanging by a thread. Today, he is restless in his hospital bed. His bright mind and eloquence have given way to gibberish. The spark has left his eyes--those eyes that were so like mine.

When Lolo Sulping was a little boy, his mother Francisca whisked him off and his older brother Manuel from Iloilo to Aklan. Iska wanted a fresh start and a better future for her sons away from their father, who probably wasn't capable of giving them any. Sulping has no memories of his real father. He only knew his last name was Torente. He was raised from infancy by his mother and her second husband.

I imagine him living a happy childhood, running free and wild with Manuel in the fields in Aklan. Manuel would later stay in the province while Sulping would pursue his dreams in the grand city called Manila.

Sulping married young--a decision that seemed reckless at the time but was something that he would never regret for the rest of his life. Rosa, the woman who caught his eye, was a character herself. She was ahead of her time. She was set to be shipped to the States by his father the apple picker to study nursing. But when Sulping got in the way, she defied Lolo Timo and, in a heartbeat, chose life with Sulping over the American dream.

There's a funny story that they often told us during family gatherings. In a last-ditch attempt to save his promising daughter from the poison of love and the clutches of Sulping, Lolo Timo arranged for Rosa to be sent to Aklan, which was also their province. But Sulping was persistent. He bought a ticket for the same trip and hid from Rosa's chaperone all throughout the trip. The moment the ship docked on the pier, Sulping was more determined than ever to see through his pursuit.

Rosa and Sulping brought seven children into the world and saw three of them to their graves in the span of forty years or so. They also took to their wings a little boy, the son of their neighbor who was abandoned by their mother. Years later, the mother would come back for her boy, but they wouldn't give him. To them, he was their eighth child. He was like their palm or the back of their hand.

Much of Sulping's grandest feats happened in Isla de Lata (now a portion of Palanan, Makati), a small town then in the outskirts of urban Makati. Its main industry was the junk shop put up by Sulping, and worked by his neighbors. The place got its name from all the tin cans being crushed there every day.

Sulping was a born leader. And so even before the advent of the modern-day barangays and barangay captains, Sulping lorded it over Isla de Lata as the teniente del barrio. He ruled in a Solomonic way--strict but also very fair. In a town where everyone worked hard for their money, he made sure there was no room for thieves. He also made sure everyone respected women and the elderly. People went to him for justice. And justice was served swiftly in the silong of their house, while the aggrieved are appeased by the perpetrators' muffled cries.

As the years advanced, Sulping's Big Brother role would become more expansive. He was fondly called "Butete". People feared his omniscient, pot-bellied figure. His constituents, who weren't that many, would later legitimize his political ascendancy by electing him to office. He would hold that office in the little corner of Makati for as long as Marcos held the presidency. But Sulping would do greater things than Macoy, and would have his fair share of dealings with personalities who have been immortalized into movies, including Moises Platon and the outlaw "Rose Tattoo".

As the god of that small place, he was also incorruptible. During election times, candidates would come to him to solicit his constituents' block vote. In their attempt to be in Sulping's good graces, they tried to bribe him with money. My father would tell me he would see them come in the house with bagfuls of money. But each time Sulping would turn down their attempts to be in his good graces. He would tell them he would gladly receive cheap shirts that he could give away instead.

In his bid to protect his family and constituents, Sulping would make a lot of enemies. As a young boy, my father would witness a scene straight out of an action movie. One late afternoon, when Sulping was tending to his piggery with his two sons Nolly (my father) and Rex, who were about six and four, respectively, six goons armed with fan knives (the weapon of choice at the time) would charge at him. Sensing danger, Sulping would tuck his sons in a safe corner before facing his attackers. The next 10 or 15 minutes will forever be etched in the memory of my father, who watched in awe and fear as their father ducked, kicked, and hit the assailants, who would later run, leaving Sulping without a single scratch.

Sulping did not tolerate thugs in his territory. As one story goes, the son of a Customs official, who lived in the next street, was playing basketball in the community court when the nephew of Imelda Marcos came with his pack. Because they thought they could, they assaulted the group, and even made sure they were provoked. And when the aggression ensued, the Marcos brat called for security backups. A jeep full of soldiers responded.

The incident led to a shootout right in front of Sulping's house. Sulping was unforgiving of people who disturbed the peace. So when he saw the Customs official's son shot dead by the armed men, he stormed out of the house and crossed the street, unmindful of the shooting spree. At that moment, the dead son's father was rushing to his son's aid. But before he could get to him, he, too, was shot by one of the armed men. In a fierce moment, Sulping took a flower pot and hit the man with it. Before the villain could finish off his next victim, Sulping fearlessly grabbed the armalight off his hands and succeeded in disarming him. He drove the rest of them away at the point of their own gun.

That was the time when the Marcoses were under international scrutiny for abuses of power. I was told that Sulping's story made it to Time. An American correspondent was sent to the house to interview the man who stood up to a Marcos. He left Sulping with instructions to the effect that if his life would ever be in danger because of the article, he was to give him a call so he could fly him and his family to the U.S. and give them political asylum.

For a long time, his family thought these were all there was to Sulping's quests. Until about two years ago, when his diabetes advanced. During episodes, he would be reduced to an 80-year-old child who cried and laughed and who talked unintelligibly. And then one day he just cried and, in between sobs, said he wished God would forgive him for all the Japanese he had slain. We would ask him about the Japanese during his lucid intervals, but each time he would ball up in tears and refuse to talk.

It was the last piece of the puzzle that was Sulping. It was then that I realized what made him, shaped him, and emboldened him. He was a diamond perfected and toughened from the rough.

But the hard man don't live here anymore. In his place is a frightened child who looks to Rosa to keep the monsters away from under his bed. At the same time, he is a tired old man who is almost about to give up.

Meanwhile, we, who love him dearly, are holding on to him, and praying for another lease on a life lived well and fully.

Cartoonized, Warholized, Simpsonized

2008-11-26T12:27:00.007+08:00

Some fun things you can do with your photos when you need a break...

1. Cartoonize them!

2. Warholize them!

3. Simpsonize them!

The Taj Mahals

2008-11-21T23:21:00.007+08:00

The Taj Mahal
By Sahir Ludhianvi

To you, my love, the Taj is a symbol of love. Fine.
Fine too that you venerate this, the valley where it sits.
But meet me somewhere else.

The poor visiting the royal assembly? Absurd.
What's the sense of lovers journeying on
That road which bears the prints of royalty's contempt?
Look at the emblems of arrogant majesty,
The background to this sign of love.
Do dead king's tombs delight you?
If so, look into you own dark home.
In this world, countless people have loved.
Who says their passions weren't true?
They just couldn't afford a public display like this.
These buildings and tombs, these abutments and forts,
Are a despot's pillar of majesty.

Cancers upon the breast of earth, a chronic cancer
Which sapped the blood of our ancestors
Who, my love, must have loved too.
It was their art that shaped this exquisite form.
But their beloved's tombs stand without name or fame;
Until today, no one even lit a candle for them.
This garden, this place on the river's bank,
These carved doors and walls, this arch, this vault

What are they?

The mocking of the love of our poor
By an emperor propped upon his wealth:
My love, meet me somewhere else.

Why Allen is so called

2008-11-21T21:25:00.005+08:00

I had a favorite book when I was growing up. It was called "1001 Questions and Answers." I don't remember if it really answered 1001 questions but I do recall that my mom bought it from Ms. Perey--my Grade 2 teacher at St. Mary's Academy. One day, she just popped in the house, telling my mom that I had so much potential, before taking out a catalogue of books and instructional tapes that she said would further hone my talents. My mom, who wasn't shameless, of course, looked at the prices first and picked out the two cheapest items.

And that was how I got the basic English language tapes with the booklet and the 1001 Questions and Answers. I remember one of my favorite items in the books was titled "Why the Taj Mahal is so called."

The answer started off like this: "The Taj Mahal was built by the Mogul Emperor Shah Jahan as a tomb for his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal..." There was something about the love story behind the Taj Mahal, and the detailed descriptions in the entry that fascinated me. I read it again and again such that for a time, I could recite the entire thing flawlessly from memory. At a time when there was no Internet and no Google, you can just imagine how badly I wanted to see the real thing.

But this post is not about the Taj Mahal. Because I also liked how the question was framed in the book, I thought I'd also call this "Why Allen is so called" and make this about how I got my name and how I suffered from it years after.

The first time my name ended up in the boys' list in school, I went home irritated and with a mission: ask mom what she was thinking when she named me. This was how she explained it: my father had always intended for me to be "Arlene." But the day I was due, he was somewhere fighting fires, leaving my mom with the (in)discretion of naming me whatever she wanted.

"So why did you name me Allen?" I asked Mom.

I will never understand her answer. "I thought 'Arlene' sounded too feminine and flirty. So I named you Allen instead. But I also thought it could sound too boyish, so I added 'Ma.' before it."

So I was born "Ma. Allen." But somewhere between Makati Medical Center and the Office of the Civil Registrar, my "Ma." got lost, such that when my birth certificate was released, the puny little girl that I was, was only "Allen." In kindergarten at Palanan Elementary School, I still wrote "Ma. Allen" in my test papers, but Ms. Imperial advised my mom that I drop the "Ma." so as to be consistent with my birth certificate. I have since been grateful I lost the "Ma." because that would've been more inconsistent with my personality.

I didn't have problems with my family because they always called me "Len." My father, though, had an unusual attachment to "Arlene" and refused to call me by any other name.

My troubles started in school. Every school opening found my name in the boys' list and found me explaining that "Allen" is my real name and that there was a story behind it. But like me, my teachers couldn't understand the logic behind the story. It was always the same story schoolyear after schoolyear, such that when I went to MaSci to see if I passed the entrance exam, I wasn't surprised at all that I wasn't in the girls list. I never was, in my entire stint there.

You can just imagine how relieved I was that boys and girls were in one class list in college.

When I was growing old, I had a favorite poem written by an Indian poet, titled "The Taj Mahal." We took it up in Humanities I, and I never forgot how it changed the image I keep of the Taj Mahal. Or maybe it didn't change it, it just made it more textured, multi-faceted and naturalist.

My point is I have no point. Or maybe it's this: things can grow in us, just like my name did in me. And we can outgrow things just like I did the Taj Mahal.

Reality bites

2008-11-16T21:29:00.003+08:00

It's been five days since my last blog. Needless to say, I've been busy coming to terms with the sad reality that school is back to bite me.

I've been taking my sweet time, writing as I pleased, working as I pleased, drinking as I pleased, and then this:

16 cases, BP 129, Family Courts Act, RA 7961, DARAB New Rules of Procedure, Voluntary Arbitration Act, Securities Code and at least five other court issuances.

Just when you think it couldn't get any worse, it did, of course. I officially opened recitation season and was forced to plumb my sleepy brains for such long-forgotten stuff like the types of actions according to subject matter, types of action according to binding effect, significance of the distinctions, types of jurisdiction, etc. We didn't get to discuss the entire assignment, but now we're supposed to read 18 additional cases, Rules 1 and 2 and Regalado's annotations, and other scattered provisions.

And did I mention that's only one subject? I also need to review the entire book on negotiable instruments for another subject, read 24 cases and 20 provisions for yet another, three cases and three provisions for yet another--all for this week. And one prof has yet to give his first homework.

What a way to get jolted back to the reality that life is a lot of things happening at the same time, and living is the never-ending struggle to stay sane and keep oneself afloat.

One good news to cap the week: I passed Labor, Crim and Poli. Just waiting for the Civ 1 results but that's always been the least of my problems. So it's looking like half of the final hurdle is over.

And so I live, and I'm biting back.

How to get rid of excess baggage

2008-11-11T22:57:00.009+08:00

I have always been the type that finds it difficult to let go--of people, memories, and things, most especially. I bring a lot of baggage along (so BF always says, although always in a slightly different context).

The result: every square inch of the earth's surface that I have ever been on, I have left piled up with things--all sorts of things--at one point or more, or even forever. I want to show you what I mean.

This is a snap shot of one corner of my workstation back when I was still there full-time. (Those who know me know that I've been trying to limit my trips to the office to twice a week--max!) If this were a panoramic shot, you'd see that there is thrice as much mess. "I work better when I'm in the midst of rubbish," is the excuse that I always give. And there's always the "I haven't even had the time to come up for air so you can't expect me to have time to clean up" alibi.

Maybe there's some truth in these excuses. But mostly, I simply find it a lot easier to manage five clients at a time than to make sure the mess doesn't pile up. It takes a lot of effort for me to monitor the piles of paper, much more to keep them to a maximum height of an inch or two. Besides, it's mentally exhausting to sort out the ones that you still need from the ones that you still might need in the future, from those that someone else might need, from those that you can throw away.

Ask my mom, and she would tell you that when she would drop by my former office, she would be compelled to clean up my desk because she just couldn't stand the sight of it and because she thought no human being should be suffered to work in such a dismal environment.

"And what about the two-day-old fries that we found underneath the papers?" I can almost hear Anne ask.

To that, I'd say: "I haven't even had the time to come up for air so you can't expect me to have time to finish my fries, or remember that I didn't finish them pala!"

Today, I made my momma proud.

Blame it on that 5S chorvah, or blame it on their threat of throwing all my work belongings into the incinerator. On a Tuesday afternoon (despite the fact that ed board was moved to Wed), I had to rush to the office to claim my important stuff, and throw the rest that I think I could live without. In the process, I found that the easiest way to do it is to sort them out into two piles only: 1) those that I want to keep, and 2) those that I don't. At the end of the exercise, I was able to salvage two boxes, one basket, one paperbag and one bag of the things I thought I would miss; and one full pushcart of the things I didn't want. Oh, and I kept the recyclable bond papers and placed them in the pile next to the printer din!

So this is how my workstation now looks...

Now I just need to remember to work somewhere else whenever I come by.

A requiem for Kiko Rustia

2008-11-10T21:44:00.008+08:00

Photo courtesy of http://www.survivorphilippines.tv

I am still in shock as I write this.

Jologs kung jologs but I like watching Survivor Philippines for reasons that I have not yet thought about. I have never been so affected by tribal council until tonight. I hope the castaways who betrayed Kiko are seeing how stupid they are now for being duped by Marlon, who is nothing but a big, fat, useless, good-for-nothing liar. Nothing could be more stupid than falling for such a trap crudely set up by an obviously incompetent pig who knows he can't win any challenge and so he has to resort to scheming.

Over the weekend, while counting down the days to revelation night (remember how Paolo cut off last Friday's episode right before the last ballot was supposed to be read?), BF and I had extensively discussed the permutations, combinations and consequences.

First off, the obvious fact then was that it was a fight against Marlon and Kiko.

If Kiko were to be voted off, it would have to take two Naak members conspiring with the three Jarakay members to muster the required number. If they are successful, all alliances will be broken, and each castaway will have to fend for themselves to make it through every tribal council.

If, on the other hand, the Naak members are sensible enough to stick to the plan, they are assured that they will not be voted off until the last of the Jarakay members is gone. After which, it will be every castaway's game, which is fair enough, I think.

This means that the traitors would have had a better chance (one out of six as opposed to one out of eight) of becoming sole survivor had they stuck to the plan.

But they are stupid. And what can you expect of stupid people?

Anyways, the die is cast, and Kiko moves on from the camp to the jury, leaving only Nanay Zita and JC as the only morally upright and worth-watching castaways in the show. (The others, especially Kaye, Chris, and Marlon make me want to throw up.)

For Kiko, life probably has better things in store for you, as with Mommy Zita and JC (who, I read somewhere will eventually become sole survivor.)

For Marlon, Kaye and Chris, be careful when you go out tomorrow. I'm pretty sure the taongbayan are aching to get their hands on you. For Marlon, this wish is especially for you: I hope you have nothing but my wrath to eat for the rest of your life.

Para sa ating lahat, a lesson learned: Nothing is what it seems.

Another long week is over

2008-11-10T01:05:00.004+08:00

This is how tired I am...

About my picture

2008-11-08T19:00:00.000+08:00

Let me tell you about the picture in this page.

There is a hideway that I always go to when I get the chance, usually during summer breaks, sem breaks, Christmas breaks, even long weekends. It's a beach resourt tucked in a faraway barrio in Batangas, next to an overrated resort with imported white sand, dead corals and a depleted fish population. My hideaway is nothing like Bora or Palawan, but the people, the sea, and the memories I made there with friends and lover make it a paradise for me and BF.

I discovered it in 2004 when my mountain climbing org held its beachineering adventure there. Back then, the place looked nothing like a resort. It was simply a beachfront property with a shore big enough to accommodate around 10 tents. Since then, that beachfront patch has always been like a second home.

In the summer of 2005, I organized a beach vacation there for my law-school friends (Machie, who is now a happy wife and mother; Trisha, who just left law school to try working; Jam, who is now in Singapore; Haydee, a childhood friend; Paul, whom I don't want to talk about; and Ronald, who is now my Be).

The picture, which was taken by Ronald, shows me in that memorable outing, with a case of stale beer sitting behind me. Suffice it to say that it was one of those moments that "sealed the deal" between Ronald and me, because we fell hard shortly after.

These photos, taken by paparazzi Haydee using her cell phone, captured some unguarded moments between me and now-BF. The first one shows me and him watching the big jellyfishes with small fishes swimming in their bellies. The second one shows us rejoining the pack from the stolen moment, with me drinking a glass of stale beer.

BF and I have gone back to that hideaway a lot of times since, each time we make it a point to think back on previous memories and make some more.

Here are some more photos from my beach hideaway...

Tell-tale signs that I should get some rest

2008-11-06T00:54:00.000+08:00

It's been a crazy day (an understatement). I would have gotten some rest if only my work was done. But it's not. But I'm getting some rest nonetheless because the following signs seem to tell me that my brain is already the consistency of corn soup and I am worthless until tomorrow:

1. Sent the wrong file to Sir and only found out about it when I followed up an hour after the work day technically ended. (On any given day, boss would have lashed at me. But luck was slightly on my side, so all I got was a held-back reprimand. "My brain is dead at this time. I'm not young. I don't have the energy that you have at 7 p.m. I've been thinking the whole day." So went the boss while I did my wet-kitty look.

2. Got home, took out my drained phone and plugged the charger into the outlet. After a few minutes, I was surprised to see that my phone was still as drained as it ever was. Ay, you're supposed to insert the charger jock into the phone slot pala for the phone to charge.

3. Took out the power cord to charge my Presario, and was puzzled why the jock wouldn't fit into the slot. Then I remembered: power cord goes into the laptop, charger goes into the phone.

3. Got the WeRoam from the laptop bag pocket and tried to run the WeRoam application, but I got frustrated when the window said "No Network" no matter how many times I closed and re-ran tha application. Oops, I forgot to insert the WeRoam into the USB slot pala.

4. Numbered the previous item "3" when it should be "4" already. This item should be "5".

It's time to go.

Early-stage Alzheimer's?

2008-11-04T17:31:00.000+08:00

I haven't taken Glutaphos since last sem ended. I am praying that this is the only reason why my memory has not been up to speed lately.

Just last night, I had three embarassing and frustrating memory-gap moments.

MG Moment #1:

Me: Be (pet name for BF), maganda daw yung Twilight na book sabi nila Tin?

Ronald: Oo nga, di ba sinabi ko na sayo yun?

Me (trying to remember while covering up): Ay talaga? Trilogy pala yun e, no?

R: Oo nga, sinabi ko na yun di ba?

Me (desperately attempting): Nakita ko kasi kay Tin kanina e.

R: Pinicturan ko pa yung cover tsaka pinakita ko sayo di ba? Tsaka pinakita ko rin yung book nung nasa National Bookstore tayo?

Me: Oh, right. Sorry.

MG Moment #2:

R (to his Dad): Buti na lang napaayos na yung susi ng Honda, Daddy (or something to that effect, I can't remember how it went exactly).

D: Oo nga.

Me: Meron pong nagho-home service na mga locksmith.

D: Oo meron nga. Tumawag nga kami e.

R (in hushed tone, to me): Be, magkausap tayo sa phone two days ago nung ginawa yung susi, di ba?

A: Ay...okay.

MG Moment #3

I honestly can't remember. Will post separately when it gets back to me.

Before the night ended, BF said: "You don't listen to me."

I said, "Of course, I do. Baka puyat lang ako or maraming iniisip during those times."

Overdrive

2008-11-04T00:02:00.000+08:00

Five years of living at breakneck speed has totally altered my life-pace (if there's such a word). Now I find it really hard to slow down or stop for a moment when all around me, things are screaming, demanding to be done.

I learned life's greatest irony several years ago atop Mt. Tarak, from an old climber I didn't know. He said, this is the reason why you should never hope to ever be able to do what your heart desires: When you are young, you have all the time and energy, but none of the money to spend on your passion. When you start working, you get all the money, with the energy still, but you lose the time. When you retire, you have all the time, the money, but none of the energy that you used to have.

Today, I do not have the time to do what I should rather be doing (e.g. going on a beach or mountain retreat). Neither do I have the energy left because my obligations do a great job of sapping out my strength. And most pathetic of all, no moolah to spend on luxuries, no matter how crucial they are to my sanity.

So this is why I'm here. I hope to keep this blog as my nightcap of sorts. A signal to myself that it's time to account for what has been gained and lost today. A cue for my tired soul that it's time to take a much-deserved rest, far from the maddening world.

Right here is where nothingness begins.