Had been meaning to do this since 2010 began but I never got around to doing that.  So before January ends, here goes my annual blogging tradition.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before?
It was my first time to go parasailing during the summer…my first time to be on a parachute actually.  I was partly thrilled, partly nervous but I absolutely enjoyed every minute I was being dragged through the air.


I had never been caught in the middle of a raging typhoon before - until 2009.  When Ondoy swept through Manila, bringing heavy, unceasing rains in its wake, I was driving my car through the northbound lane of EDSA.  When I got to Pasig, the floodwaters were getting deeper and my dashboard lights were coming alive in colors I had never seen before.  Tried to go back home via EDSA's southbound lane this time with floodwaters raging.  Took me two whole hours to get home (normally takes 10 to 15 minutes) and by the time I walked in the front door, I was so shaken up I had to curl up on the couch with a blanket and a pillow and watch helplessly as water invaded Metro Manila. 


2. Did you keep your new years's resolutions and will you make more for next year?
Yes, I kept almost all of my resolutions for 2009 but I still need to work on other things.  I'm getting better with the cooking thing.  If I made dessert (Ate Jocy's no-bake cheesecake) for giving away as gifts two Christmases ago, I made pasta this year almost single-handedly.  Almost! Will definitely be making more resolutions (and food) this year.  Yay!

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Had a new cousin (and another namesake) this year in the person of baby Aida Shara.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Didn't know President Cory Aquino personally but she holds a special place in the hearts of all Filipinos, including mine.  Michael Jackson's death was a shocker too.

5. What countries did you visit in 2009?
Didn't travel outside the Philippines this year.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
Haha! A Mini Cooper! In my dreams.  

7. What date from 2009 will remain etched in your memory and why?
Lots!
August 3, 2009: Walking alongside Pres. Aquino's funeral cortege along Ayala en route to the transfer of her remains from San Juan to Intramuros.  The procession stopped for a while in the corner of Ayala and Paseo de Roxas and in the midst of a downpour of yellow ribbons, yellow balloons and confetti, everybody started singing "Bayan Ko" while flashing the Laban sign.


December 27, 2009: Finding the perfect place and time to sing for my Creator.



8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Starting out the school year with insecurity and uncertainty and emerging victorious in the end.  As my friend Rachel said, "Go happy endings!"

9. What was your biggest failure?
Hmmm…I can't think of anything.

10. Did you suffer illness of injury?
Had stomach flu about twice or thrice this year.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
A nice red dress which looks good, fits well and cost me less than $6!  Wait…did I just say the best thing I bought was a dress?!

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Every Filipino.

The Bayanihan spirit once more made an appearance when Ondoy ransacked much of Luzon.  It wasn't just about helping each other out in times of need.  It was also about looking at every Filipino and finding a bayani, a true hero, right before your eyes.  

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Sad to say, the President.  This seems like a pretty constant answer.  Yes, PGMA and Peter Pan. :D

14. Where did most of your money go?
Photocopies, load for my Broadband stick, KFC Twister treats on Saturday afternoons and buying my sister's dog.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Getting Fully Booked gift certificates for my birthday!  I schedule the books I buy so that I don't consume the gift certificates in one trip.  I still have a couple more left!

16. What song(s) will always remind you of 2009?
a. "The Show" by Lenka because it's the first song I hear every morning…overtime my alarm goes off.
b. "Defying Gravity" from the Wicked soundtrack because it's a beautiful song with great lyrics (and Idina Menzel and Kristine Chenoweth really blow my socks off overtime I listen to the song).
c. "Jesus Take the Wheel" by Danny Gokey.  First time I heard him sing it live on American Idol was mind-blowing.   And my goodness, how does he come up with those runs?
d. "Stray Italian Greyhound" by Vienna Teng.  Great song, perfect lyrics with the right amount of abstruseness and very fitting for my year.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. happier or sadder? -- Way happier!
ii. thinner or fatter? -- Ha! Fatter…slightly fatter. :D
iii. richer or poorer? -- Richer! YES! :)

18. What do you wish you'd done more?
I wish I laced up my sneakers and spent more time running or hit the pool more often rather than just sleeping.  I wish I read a lot more law-unrelated books this year.  I only read a handful and it's pitiful!

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Less procrastination! My gosh, it's like a disease!

20. What was your favorite TV program?
American Idol Season 8 made my year!  Everyone on that particular season was really good.  As for teleseryes, I was so hung up on Tayong Dalawa despite the horrendous ending and Boys Over Flowers even if the Korean version of Rui Hanazawa/Hua Ze Lei looks like a girl in some angles.


21. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
No…not really.

22. What was the best book you read?
The Time Traveller's Wife was a great book to just sink into.  It was a different kind of read - very straightforward prose, very masculine even in some instances but surprisingly emotion-laden. 


23. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I realized that I was not a Michael Jackson fan but many of his songs were ranked among my favorites.  Slightly irreconcilable but true.

24. What did you want and get?
Mara Jade, my new laptop and latest manifestation of geekdom! :D And getting published in the Inquirer again in January of 2009 was certainly a thrill. :)  I was on Cloud 11 for days.

25. What was your favorite film of this year?
Toss-up between Slumdog Millionaire and (500) Days of Summer.  Slumdog Millionaire was the best feel-good movie I have seen in a long time whereas (500) Days of Summer was hilarious, quirky and boasted of a great soundtrack.


26. What was the worst film you saw this year?
Didn't get to see a movie I didn't like in 2009…which is good. :D

27. What did you do on your birthday and how old were you?
I turned 26 this year and on my birthday, I wore my red headband and had dinner in Glorietta with my high school friends and classmates.


28. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Watching the Lea Salonga Your Songs concert would have definitely been like a cherry on top of my parfait that is 2009!

29. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
I love the long shirts/tops and fitted jeans ensemble and that plaid made a comeback!

30. What kept you sane?
As always, the Bible. :)

31. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Oh my goodness…Danny Gokey!  He's a guy who sings like no other and does so with his heart!  Kristin Chenoweth is hilarious and Idina Menzel is a showstopper!


32. What political issue stirred you the most?
Hmmmm…the controversy surround election automation, PGMA's supposed extravagant dinner abroad and the Maguindanao massacre, of course.  The Maguindanao massacre was especially disturbing since it made me reflect on whether or not the value for human life is almost nil in this country to the point that politics is enough a motivation to brutally slaughter so many people.  What for?


33. Who did you miss?
Pastor Acosta.  I always looked forward to his sermons whenever I went home for vacation and I still need to get used to the fact that I will never hear him speak again.

34. Who was the best new person you met?
Getting to know people more is better than meeting new persons.  I thank God for giving me the chance to get to know Ate Wawa and Ate Germaine this year.  I was also so glad be "bus mother" to my Evidence posse, people who have become not just a support group but friends (you know who you guys are). :) 

35. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.
It's good to make long-range plans but always be on the look-out for detours - and be ready to take them.  They may faze you at first but going through them be something you won't regret doing.

36. What was the nicest thing someone told you about yourself?
My cousin James to me when I was parking rear first: "Do you realize how sexy that is?"
That got me thinking: if a parking slot were a runway, I'd be  a supermodel! HAHA!

37. The most touching experience you had this year.
Sitting next to Lolo's bed in his hospital room and reading the Bible to him.
Crouching beside Mamang's tombstone and clearing it of grass and dried leaves, all the while hearing her speak to me in my head, "Finish your story, Aida Rose."


38. What did you like most about yourself this year?
I liked the fact that I didn't let fear take hold of me this year.  I didn't dwell too much on not getting what I wanted but instead made do with what was given to me.

39. What did you hate about yourself this year?
My hissy fits!  I need to install a circuit breaker in my head or something.  Still working on it…still working on it.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
"Oh no not now,
Please not now,
I just settled into the glass half empty
Made myself at home

So what do I do with this?
This stray Italian greyhound
These inconvenient fireworks
This ice-cream-covered screaming hyperactive thought

So what do I do with this?
This sudden burst of sunlight
And me with my umbrella
Cross-indexing every weatherman's report
I was ready for the downslide
But not for spring to well up

What do I do
With a love that won't sit still
Won't do what it's told
What do I do
With a love that won't sit still?"
- snippets from Stray Italian Greyhound, Vienna Teng

41. Was 2009 a good year for you?
Yes, it was a great year.

42. What was your favorite moment of the year?
My cousin Loida's wedding was something all of us had been looking forward to for a long, long time.  Getting to dance "Jai Ho" during her wedding with the rest of my cousins was a blast…and the rehearsals were more of a riot.


Going on a homecoming trip to Pangasinan with Tita Vilma, Tito Dan and my cousin James was quite poignant.

Coming home in October to find my grandfather moving past the fact that he was practically married to his wheelchair and was now "walking for real."

43. What was your least favorite moment of the year?
Having to go through this school year's enrollment by bidding for subjects.  Everything was just so uncertain…and I ended up in a class that I really didn't want to be in! Yikes!
The summer was also particularly difficult to deal with as total nerve compression paralyzed my Lolo from the waist down and I know I will never see him walk again.

44. Where were you when 2009 began?
In Taguhangin, Ajuy, Iloilo.

45. Who were you with?
With my parents, sister and grandparents.

46. Where will you be when 2009 ends?
Still in Ajuy, Iloilo.

47. Who will you be with when 2009 ends?
Hopefully…still the same people.

48. Do you have new year's resolution for 2010?
I hope to be more patient, more optimistic and less of a pain.  

49. What was your favorite month of 2009?
December!  I took a lot of pictures during Christmas season in 2009.  Plus, Tito Stan and Tita Ping took us to a surprise road trip to Aklan where we visited the Sampaguita Gardens and practically froze our toes off in the cold springs of Nabas! Wooohooo!


50. What was your favorite record from 2009?
Lots!  I loved Lenka's The Show, the original Broadway cast recording of Wicked and Rock of Ages and the soundtrack to (500) Days of Summer.  And oh, my own personal compilation of MP3s of Danny Gokey's live and studio performances.


51. How many concerts did you see in 2009?
None…except the Easter and the Christmas cantatas in church.

52. Did you drink a lot of alcohol in 2009?
No. Ha!

53. Do a lot of drugs in 2009?
Evervon-C.

54. You do anything you are ashamed of this year?
As always, yes. :)

55. How much money did you spend in 2009?
I'm not an accountant.

56. What was your proudest moment in 2009?
The day I got a text that Evidence grades were out and I ran to the OCS to see for myself how I did.  And I actually fared well!  I was so freaking scared to be in that class and every class session was always met with apprehension.


57. What was your most embarrassing moment of 2009?
Ask Sue about December 26, 2009.  :) HAHAHA! I wanna hide under a rock.

58. If you could go back in time to any moment of 2009 and change something, what would it be?
Ask me…but not here.

59. What are your plans for 2010?
Hope to enjoy whatever academic work is hurled at me this year.  I keep on forgetting I'm in the rut...er…place I'm in because I chose to be here and because it is something I'm interested in.  I plan to live a bit more healthy this year - cutting down on Coke, going back to swimming and running, giving up on fries and hamburgers (except when I think I deserve a reward).  I hope to get the chance to write more.

60. How are you different now that the year has ended?
I hope I've become more mature and more appreciative of the smallest things that every day throws at me.  I'm thankful for anything and everything.

61. What are your wishes for the new year?
I wish this year would be the year for change.  I say that every year and I do mean it.  I pray for a complete overhaul in terms of not just our lives but also with regard to our country, our families, our homes and our relationship with our Maker.

    One of the many things that I love about science is its universality in terms of application.  Many scientific concepts have found their way in daily conversation and sometimes, their scientific root is forgotten.

    In high school, chemistry and physics were two subjects I had to study.  I loathed physics whereas chemistry was always the more interesting read (nothing beat biology, though).  There were two concepts from these branches of science which have come to have a different meaning for me as time goes by: momentum and catalyst.  One starts things off and the other technically gets the ball rolling.

    A catalyst, if my high school memory would not fail me, is a substance which allows a chemical reaction to proceed at a much faster rate.  The catalyst itself does not undergo any major change in the course of the chemical reaction.  Momentum, on the other hand, is one of the simplest formulas to remember.  It is simply defined as M = (m) (v) or mass multiplied by velocity.  It is that amount or quantity of motion of a body which would depend on how heavy it is and on how fast it is going at a point in time.  The easiest example for such a concept is a ball rolling (thus the last sentence in the previous paragraph).  A bigger ball rolling at a faster speed naturally has more momentum than a smaller, slower ball.  Both the concept of a catalyst and of momentum have no apparent relation in the realm of science but upon closer examination, one can see that both fit the earlier correlation I earlier made.  As I said, a catalyst gets things started at a much faster rate whereas the momentum keeps the ball rolling.  

    In both the theoretical and the figurative sense, a catalyst may not be the equivalent of momentum.  After all, what started the spark in the first place may not be the same as that which keeps the candle burning.  The natural progress of the inquiry would then delve into the question of which among the two would be more important: the firestarter or the one which keeps the party going.  An almost immediate answer would naturally point to momentum.  After all, any explosion can start but if nothing propels it forward like a grenade launcher, it's going to pretty much burn itself into the oblivion that it dust particles.  But upon closer introspection, the catalyst itself is also rather important.  In the first place, it gives the push, the shove and practically determines how far one can go.  It sets the direction for the movement, where everything is headed and whatever it is that needs to be hit, crashed into or, simply, achieved.  

    If every new door, every new opportunity, every new year were a catalyst, I'd wish it were the type that would accelerate the right chemical reaction at the right pace with a particular end product in mind.  If it were to be the momentum one seeks, I wish it would be the perfect combination of the optimal mass, the appropriate speed, the best angle and the most favorable of circumstances so as to send any ball rolling and any pendulum swinging for as long as it is possible.

Whew!  It feels good to sit by my lonesome in the stillness of the night.  Ever since I arrived home last week, everything has sped past me in a blur thanks to all the preparations for the office Christmas party which is tomorrow.  As a matter of fact, that's how Christmas has always been for me - everything seems to be on high speed and I find myself running around helping my mom, decorating the house, wrapping gifts, doing last-minute groceries and before I know it, Christmas is over.  

I promised myself this year that I'd write 25 stories/reflections about Christmas 25 days before December 25.  So did I manage to fulfill that objective?  Not at all.  So before Christmas Day dawns upon me like the morning sun, I will write a little something about why this season is the most-loved and the most anticipated by almost everybody.  

Ha! Thanks to the faulty Internet last night, Christmas morning did dawn on me without getting to write anything.


Gifts are particularly common come Christmas.  Two days ago, I dropped by the local supermarket to pick up some basil leaves.  On my way out, I passed by two girls who were trying to decide which trinkets to get for their office Kris Kringle.  Today, I went to the mall to buy some blank CDs and as I made my way to the parking garage, I espied a little girl in a pink dress crossing the street on board her brand new pink bicycle, training wheels and all.  I could tell it was brand new because a red Robinson's Place label was still stuck to one of the wheels.  Her father carefully held the handbars and the bicycle seat as the girl pedaled, her face shining with unmistakeable joy.  Inside the mall, I walked past a family of three - a father, a mother and their young son - having merienda in a fast food chain.  The boy was bringing brand new toys from a plastic bag: a set of action figures and a wind-up train which sped in its own circular set of rails.  His parents watched as the boy arranged the toys on the table, next to his unfinished packet of French fries, and laughed as the train went whirring round and round until it had to be wound again.  

There is something about gifts which can give a bad day a quick jolt and a shove to make it do a complete 180.  I think anyone who abhors receiving gifts has got a dozen loose screws and needs a lobotomy.  Through the years, I've received a lot of gifts come Christmas and I do have some favorites which stand out from the pack like a gayly wrapped present.  For instance, when I was a child, my family and I would celebrate Christmas in my grandparents' house in Mangatarem, Pangasinan.  Come Christmas Eve, Mamang, my late grandmother, would give me one of Papang's old socks and tell me to hang them on the window for Santa to fill with goodies.  In the morning, I'd wake up to find the sock stuffed to the seams and I'd run to Mamang to show her all the chocolates and candies I got and she'd excitedly watch me count my stash even if she knew very well what was inside. 


This year, my mom gave me Mara Jade, my new laptop (trust the geek to give the laptop a geek name), just so I could now retire Lei (my 8-year old notebook) which  was, in some instances, trusty and in other instances would just turn itself off for no apparent reason.  I was so happy that when I got home, I showed her Mara Jade and gave her a quick run-down of all its features, muttering about how "awesome" it was and how thankful I was for getting it for Christmas.

My favorite Christmas gift by far, however, was the one my sister and I also got from "Santa," 19 years ago.  I had been pining for a dog and I had written "Santa" about it for the past two years but he kept giving me other things.  On that particular Christmas Eve 19 years ago, my mom ran into the room my sister and I used to share and told us Santa was in the front yard with our presents.  My sister and I raced to the front yard and found no Santa there.  My mom then said Santa was in the kitchen and, because we were young, stupid and gullible, we ran out and found nobody except my mom jumping and pointing to the sky, telling us to wave goodbye because Santa was in a hurry and that if we looked closer, we would get to see his sleigh flying across the night sky.  Disappointed that we didn't get to see Santa (and I was wondering how someone that fat could move so fast), my sister and I ambled back to the living room and were surprised to find two baskets sitting under the Christmas tree.  I remember hiding behind a chair as my sister, who was always the more adventurous one, slowly walked toward the basket with the green ribbon, struggled with the wicker lid, pulled it out and then found herself greeted by a tiny, furry black head which popped out of the basket.  I opened my basket (the one with a red ribbon) and found an all-white puppy cowering inside, a Spitz-Pomeranian I later named Sandy.


It would take me years later to realize that the red glow I was pointing to in the sky as Santa's sleigh was a signal light in a communications antenna and that, yes, my mom indeed had a future as an actress.  What made my parents spill the truth beans about Santa, you may ask.  Well, when I was 10, I got the toy catalogue for Strawberry Shortcake and I wrote Santa one letter after another, asking him if I could have the Betty Crocker baking oven or the electric-operated ice cream maker.  Apparently the toys were a little too pricey and my parents had to disappoint me lest I burned a hole in their bank accounts.  

As much as I love receiving gifts, I particularly enjoy giving them as well.  Actually, I look forward to Christmas not because of the gifts I'm bound to get but because of the gifts I'll be giving to family and friends.  I love to watch the recipients open their wrapped presents and wait for their reactions once the ribbons are off and the boxes are opened.  I love to watch their faces light up like a light bulb - like the grin my dad gives when I get him a shirt meant for yuppies, the expression on my mom's face when I give her something she has always wanted to get herself or the amused look my grandfather gives me when I give him something funny.  After all, I spend the entire year keeping my ears wide open, hoping to catch a drift of what they need or want.  I love watching kids rip candy wrappers apart with huge grins in their faces.  I enjoy watching eyes, fingers and smiles in endless combinations whether or not the "thank you's" come afterwards.

I guess it has to do with the fact that I've been in the receiving end a little bit too much so I need not just to pay back but also, as the movie goes, pay it forward.  The gifts come from deep within a very, very, very thankful person. 



Gold, frankincense and and myrrh were the gifts the three wise men brought for the child Jesus.  These were gifts fit for a king.  Or so they thought.  

Come to think of it,  I don't think there is a gift on this planet which would be worthy to lay down on the feet of the King.  I was sitting alone in my room, in the quietness of the night, thinking about this.  What gift would be fit for my King?  Actually, there is none because everything falls short of His glory and majesty.  He created all things, all things were made by Him and for Him.  Yet God chooses to accept whatever we offer at His feet as long as it is given with a pure heart.  Abel's sheep was the equivalent of the magi's gifts.  The poor widow's few pennies were as valuable to him as a rich man's gold coins.  The shepherds who were the infant Jesus' first visitors did not carry with them any gifts of material value but the worship and adoration they brought with them were more than enough.

Aside from the fact that they were bearing gifts which were of no compare to the King's majesty, I am not sure exactly how long it took for the magi to realize that they were actually not the gift givers.  They, along with the rest of mankind, were the recipients of the ultimate gift of sacrifice - a babe born out of God's immense love.

Merry Christmas everyone!

(Note: I wrote this immediately after my final exam in my toughest subject last semester and promised myself I wouldn't post it if the story does not end well or has no semblance of a happy ending.)

10 p.m., October 16, 2009

I am sitting on my bed with the covers pulled off as I am typing this.  It actually feels rather good to have my legs graze my sheets again and to have absolutely nothing beside me except my extra pillow.  The alarm clock is not set to go off at a particular time tomorrow because I am going to sleep for as long as I want, for as long as I think I need.  For the past two weeks, I would find myself awake at 4 a.m. and realize that I have slept on my schoolwork again - and quite literally at that.  I wake up with papers rustling in my back, my pens and my blue highlighter strewn all over the bed like a Jackson Pollock work and my books wide open beside me in various states of disarray.

Tonight has finally come.  If you asked me yesterday how I think I'd be doing tonight, I would have probably answered "brain dead."  This week has become probably the most stressful of my entire existence.  It was difficult not to see myself as an endangered specie, one whose very existence and sanity was dangling by a hairline from the edge of a precipice.  As each day passed and stress levels hit the ceiling, bore a hole in the roof and shot like fireworks through the exosphere, the day for the finals loomed before me and my classmates like a burly grizzly bear.  All week, we swam through the text of the Rules of Court as they floated in our heads like a million random corks in the middle of the ocean.  The day had finally come to tie them down to paper.  The exercise of answering the examination itself was, to put it simply, difficult.  It felt like I was grasping at a hundred helium balloons which were floating in the air in different areas, a situation so tricky when you  don't quite know which string to pull out of the mess.

My genius-friend Bryan SJ once told me that he loved written exams better than class recitations.  I wouldn't choose either of the two of I had any liberty but he did explain his choice to me with his trademark humor.  "At least iyong papel hindi nagsasalita, hindi ka sinisigawan," he told me with a laugh, his fingers opening and closing like a bird's beak.  That was the one of the first things I thought of as I scratched my answers on my exam booklet with my pen.  I did manage a smile as I imagined my paper rise before me and transform into a mouth like those Harry Potter howlers before screaming into my face like a banshee.

Four hours later, when I turned my booklet in and walked out of the examination room, I felt very, very tired.  That was expected.  I felt  a curious mix of relief and dread.  That too was expected since a huge chunk of load had been lifted off my shoulders but I honestly did not know how I did in that exam.  My head was spinning and my stomach was grumbling.  That was another development I had anticipated since the only meal I had which had some semblance of decency was a heavy breakfast.

But there was another feeling lurking somewhere in the corner, something I had neither expected nor anticipated.  It was the quiet, nagging feeling that said, with all certainty, that this fragment of my life would be missed - in a sorely sadistic way that I never thought would be possible.  No matter how I much wished I would never go this way again, I certainly could not deny that a part of me would certainly miss all the ups and the downs that came with my ordeal of the last four months.  

There were the little things, like the undeniable, uncomfortable silence before every class when my classmates and I would wait for the earlier section to end.  The minute that first class adjourned, we would rush to meet the deluge of students (usually Kiyo, Jat and Jonas) and the air would then be thickly populated with all sorts of permutations of only one significant question: "Hanggang saan kayo umabot?"  

Then there was that feeling of dread which came with the sound of the professor's heels echoing down the hallway.  After all, those footsteps were so distinct they were almost equivalent to DNA evidence in terms of weight and sufficiency.  My classmates and I would listen for them and when the familiar "clak clak clak" would reverberate across the walls, you could almost taste the panic in the air and feel the calories drain through your ears.  The minute she would walk into the room and effortlessly swing the heavy wooden door open, you could almost hear the symphony of hearts hammering and pulses racing.  Everybody stops breathing for a minute, whether consciously or unconsciously.  The entire experience was insanity-inducing but, on hindsight, at the end of every class session, it was also as deliciously thrilling as wakeboarding in the Pacific Ocean in the middle of a squall.

The scarier moments would come when the questions would hit the student out of nowhere like shots from a sniper.  Sometimes, the student dodges the recitation bullet but in other instances when the sniper finds its mark, makes a mortal wound and leads to the dreaded "Sit down" booming through the classroom like a bazooka, there is nothing left to see but necks bared, heads bowed and hands furtively leafing through pages of whatever pieces of paper are on the desks.  The silence is, to make a direct quote, "sepulchral."  Prayers rise through the air like steam as the area is scanned for the next target and if such steam clouds were visible, they would all have read the same way: "Not me, please."

The tough moments make their entrance when the recitation shotgun is whipped out and an entire row of people rejoin their seats a little soon after being called to stand, one after another in rapid succession.  Sometimes, there are days when you've practically read the entire assignment and committed everything to every possible fold of your synapses, thinking you cannot be as ready as ever.  Then with one question, your day comes to an end.  Those are the days when the heart weighs heaviest, when you realize that the old adage of "failure means you didn't try" does not apply at all.  Those are the lowest moments, when you think you could sink far lower than the Marianas Trench, even when you already feel buried neck-deep in quicksand.

But then, there were also the lighter moments, like the jokes before class about how karma goes around and comes around.  Teasing another classmate "You will get called" is practically like opening yourself up to heaven's wrath.  This tirade is usually exchanged while waiting in line for orders of instant pancit canton or fishballs, the kind of food so unhealthy that they will surely kill you if the over-the-scale stress levels don't do the job.  Wailing is a standard and can come in a variety of forms.  The usual goes something like "Hindi ako nakaaral" with matching (fake) sobbing.  Sometimes, it can be as blunt as a frustrated "Ayoko na!" or as overused as a desperate "Hindi ko natapos!"  The most commonly overheard is "Hanggang saan inaral mo?" which just makes everyone more nervous, especially when the case assignments are as thick as pocketbooks and you feel you've only scratched the surface.

Then there were the brief after-class laughs, the coffee shop study sessions and the rides in my "magic school bus" where none of my passengers paid me anything even if I made the appopriate legal demand.  Coffee Bean Balara is probably the best joint to study as a group because hardly anyone ever shows up in the daytime and Cha and I still have a good supply of those "buy-one-take-one" coupons for cheesecake and ice blends good enough for all of our tummies.  But the overall winner for the best source of a snicker would be Mims who could still manage to crack a joke about why Herce vs. Cabuyao was included in the subtopic about hearsay when everyone else thinks the world is coming to an end.  Get it?  Herce and hearsay?

After everything else, there are the class members, the ones you'll remember for their quips, their mannerisms, for the days they have saved the class sessions with their recitation answers, despite the extra strain on their legs from all the standing which could last up to three hours.  The ones who will applaud and whoop at the end of every class session, at the precise moment the wooden doors swing shut.  The ones who do not mince with encouragement and are generous with the handshakes, the high-fives and the pats on the back.  The ones who celebrate the smallest of victories and ignore the bad days.  There's Mr. Mendoza, otherwise known as Mr. Evidence, who could recite all 37 disputable presumptions word-for-word without the slighest hint of hestitation.  Then there's Miss Rios, the resident Miss Evidence, who picked up a nuance in Africa vs. Caltex which no one in the entire history of the course had ever noticed.  Of course, there is Mr. Dumlao, the class saviour who stood till the very last day and could tell you where the periods and the commas are in the text of the law.  There's Miss Cabrera who always leaves at 7:30 for her Succession class and Miss Canete who does not buckle under pressure.  There's Mr. Muniz, Mr. Quilala and Mr. Revillas who are always called at about the same time, one after another.  Then there's Miss Boncaron who is always persistent; Mr. Asilo who is always confident and Miss Salazar who is always brilliant.  There's Dr. Simangan, the resident physician; Miss Buenavantura, the class beadle and Miss Martin, the cool cat.  There's Mr. Salinas, the perfectionist; Miss Sabitsana, the firecracker; Miss Rial, the one with the quiet confidence.  They were labelled as our "first line of defense" because they sat on the row immediately in front of ours and once they were called to recite, it would automatically mean we, the ones who sat in the back, were coming up next.  Of course, there's Miss Pineda who is great (and loud) at broadcasting her answers to those who are fielded for recitation and Mr. Ridon who was so unlike himself during class hours.  There are my seatmates, Mr. Arcilla with his "small eyes" and Miss Mendoza with her pink laptop who types simple reminders like "Relax" on her computer screen, all visible for the ones who are standing, stretching their calf muscles and have to deal with more than just trembling patellas.

And then there's me, the one who started this walk with a curious mix of pessimism and optimism and will sign off at the kiss of sunset - and the adventure - with a grateful heart, a quiet laugh and a fervent hope that this fight will indeed end well.

September 10, 2009, 8:00 pm.

My pen was making scratchy noises on the paper as I wrote one line after another.  The movement of my fingers was rapid, almost fluid like swaying dandelions in the middle of an open field.  And to think that the aircon was turned way up high and the room was so cold I half expected to see a polar bear sit beside me and rip my desk to pieces.  That would have been convenient, though...to push away my desk and say "Ma'am, I can't take this test anymore.  The polar bear just ate my paper."

Every so often the stream of ideas would stop like water gathering behind a dam then would slowly push itself forward, regaining momentum but with a noticeable reduction in speed.  With every tick of the clock, my internal river was slowing down, grasping on its brakes like one would grasp helplessly at straws.

Then like a person ramming himself into a brick wall, I crashed into my own cul-de-sac and heard my brain give way with a tiny creak.  Uh-oh, the end has come.  The horde of stress-inducing nanomites had merged forces with the growing army of Weariness and Nervousness and they had now succeeded in breaking into head and scorching my synapses to dust as they blazed their way into the innermost recesses of my brain.  
I re-read the question.  "X grabs an iron bar and hits A's medulla oblongata.  A dies."  The cul-de-sac naturally refused to budge and my brain was now emitting fumes like a pressure cooker.  I manage to laugh though.  Some guy in a night club named X who probably can't even differentiate his veins from his arteries could grab an iron bar and aim for a guy's medulla oblongata instead of simply going for his head.  "Relevant?" goes the question.  I still can't get over the medulla oblongata.  Maybe X was a Doogie Howser who dropped out of Harvard and could do the human genome project with both eyes closed.  Was it relevant that X aimed for A's medulla oblongata?  He could have hit A's cranium and A would still land six feet under in a wooden box lined with lace.

My head hurts as if X's iron bar leapt past the test paper.  I know I badly need food and sleep.

When I get home, I sit in front of the sofa and watch MTV, staring with a half-empty head at pop stars singing and dancing underneath disco lights in their psychedelic dresses.  My brain is still simmering as I drown in my mug of misery called ice cream.

Wow, it's one thing to go through a long and difficult examination.  It's a totally different issue when your brain throws in the towel and simply gives up on you. 

I have been at this since 1 this morning and as the clock strikes 8:30, I find the entire experience to be both stressful and slightly hilarious even if it is akin to waiting for the bar exam results.

"This" refers to waiting for the results of the medical licensure examinations. My best friend took the exams for two weekends and she told me that the list of those who successfuly passed the exam should have come out last night, at the latest today. As of this writing, there are no updates from either of our ends. The results were supposed to be posted in the official website of the PRC and when I checked with Google last night, all other sites such as blogs and forums were also announcing that they too would post the results as soon as they were ready.

That all together struck me as surreal. My parents took the board exams back in the 70s and the results of their board exams came out after about five or six months. My friend, on the other hand, hurdled the last cluster of exams on Sunday and the waiting period for her had been drastically reduced to just a number of days. Back during my parents' time, the results were posted on reams of paper and people had to fall in line to check if their names were on the list. With the advent of the Internet, my best friend and I need not go anywhere but just sit in front of the computer and wait. Not only that, to factor in a human element to the torture, as I browsed through forum posts and comments to blog entries, I practically felt the anxiousness of the med students who took the examination as they put their ordeal to tangible form through blog comments and forum posts...people I didn't even know. I figured that generally, the advances in communications technology had certainly done their part in making the wait slightly less unpleasant.

I was browsing through a blog site which was creative enough to make a red, flashing marquee-like header for the medical licensure exam results. I was not sure exactly if that helped with soothing the stress levels but the blog entry claimed that the passing rate was about 70% according to a source. People then started posting comments to the blog entry until finally someone named Vince wrote that he had a leaked copy of the results. The inquiries then came like a flood with people asking if Mr. So and So or Miss XYZ was in the list. He answered some of the inquiries but gave vague answers like, "Two of the three from School ABC did not make it." Then as quickly as he came, Vince just disappeared from the deluge of very angry med students who finally figured out he was taking them for a joy ride.

I thought it was cruel for someone to turn someone else's anxiety into web fodder. These people, like my best friend and me, had been waiting since the wee hours of the morning for the results and it certainly was not funny to make up some story about having a leaked copy of the results. As a matter of fact, I thought it was downright inhumane.

I am sure as you are reading this, you must be wondering why I didn't think of visiting the most reliable source online for the results of the physicians licensure exam. I did figure early on that the best way to get the news was through the official website of the PRC (http://www.prc.gov.ph). But, as they say, when it rains, it pours. And this applies to almost all things, I suppose, including stress-inducers.

Before visiting any other blog site at 1 in the morning, I had first typed in the URL for the official PRC website in the address bar of my browser and waited for the page to load. Voila! I didn't get a website which hinted at a website of the PRC! Instead, I got a maroon background with some text written inside a box. An icon of a police officer was pictured on the left hand corner of the box and the page carried a warning that the PRC website was classified by Google as an "attack site." When I clicked a button to provide me with more information, I found out that when Google tested the PRC site, malware was downloaded and installed without the user's consent.

I sighed as the comments of seething rage continued to be hurled at Vince in the blog site. I wasn't about to tell my friend to just unplug the computer and go to the PRC but sometimes, there are things such as Vinces and viruses which you don't worry about when you're simply falling in line and waiting for reams of paper to make their grand appearance.

Postscript:

By 11 PM, a few hours after I had posted this entry as part of weekly blogging assignment in a class blog, it finally became official that Sue Ellen T. Abad now had the initials "M.D." for a name suffix.  She has gone a long, long way from the six-year old who initially wanted to be a nurse (if the pre-school yearbook were to be a basis).

Congratulations Bad!

"It could have been the sunniest day," I thought as I stood in the midst of a sea of yellow.  It was the perfect day to go out, take a walk, go for a run, do anything to celebrate the vibrance and warmth of a life well-lived.  The sun was back in her golden throne after days of seeing nothing but rain and the dreariness of clouds.

I was standing across 6750 Ayala Avenue at 11 in the morning with my hair wet all scrunched in a ponytail.  I had belatedly decided I was going for a walk and my companion was on her way.  I didn't mind waiting because the breeze was cool and the air was thick with a stillness which had remained elusive for the longest time.

A few minutes later, I saw her approaching.  She made her way through the street with the quiet grace that had long been her trademark.  There was nothing pompous, nothing grand about her last walk except perhaps for the yellow blooms which kept her company or the four uniformed men around her who kept quiet watch. 

I waited as she came closer, my fingers gripping the iron railings which lined the street.  The metal was still curiously cool to the touch despite the sun's grand re-appearance after days of unceasing rain.  

The stillness had since dissipated and there was now a wispy feel to the air, like giant cats padding quietly across a stone floor.  My walk was about to begin any minute now and I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder.  

Nothing could have prepared me for the deluge of yellow flowers and the sight of my country's stripes - the deepest blue, the most fiery red, the purest white, the most vibrant yellow - draped over a wooden box.  

As my former President's body slowly passed my inconspicuous little spot along Ayala Avenue, the tears came quietly in a stream as steady as the flow of people who had come to pay their respects to the woman in yellow. 


Martial Law Babies in a Revolutionary Society

I was born during an interesting point of Philippine history - right at the fringes of the martial law era and smack at the doorstep of a revolutionary tide that was to radically reshape the environment that I was to grow up in.  When I was a couple of months old, then senator Benigno Aquino Jr. was felled by an assassin's bullet in the tarmac of the Manila International Airport and by the time I was three, the Philippines had its first woman president in the person of his widow, Corazon Cojuangco Aquino.

Bespectacled.  Calm.  Gentle.  Mild-mannered.  A woman of quiet strength and relentless courage.  It was easy to look up to President Aquino with all admiration and hope as her husband had now become one of my great personal heroes.  Her smiling face graced the pages of a coffee table book on EDSA Uno, her thumb and index finger stretched out to form the letter "L," symbolizing the Filipino word "laban."  That pretty much summed up how the American-educated widow was thrust into the public limelight.  She had taken up the cause of her deceased husband and was now fighting for freedom, for liberty and for democracy which the Filipino people deserved.  Little did she know that her fight was not to stop the moment she stepped down from office in 1992.  The Filipino people still came running to her like little children with scraped knees everytime the cornerstones of democracy came under intense attack.  Willingly she came out of the confines of her life as a private citizen, her clear, steady voice cutting like a knife through the haze, akin to the constant sting a probing conscience makes on a guilty mind.  At the last moments of her life, she fought the cancer that had ravaged her body until she finally yielded to the eternal rest that she so belatedly deserved.

To be honest about it, I wouldn't be able to tell you exactly what she was like as a President in terms of policy.  I was three when she took her oath and was nine when turned over the presidency to Fidel Ramos and all I cared about back then was my daily game of dodgeball.  She survived seven coup attempts from disgruntled members and officers of the Armed Forces of the Philippines and I do know she got flack for some of her policies, including the Comprehensive Agrarian Land Reform.  

President Aquino was not a perfect President but then she was someone who worked very hard to do what she could in an imperfect society.  The fact that she has not lost the people's respect and admiration I think says a lot about the kind of President she was.  Her support was still sought after by people in all the issues which has rocked this country's foundations and has threatened to suck our people's pride dry as dust.  

President Aquino's strength and courage as a woman was of a different breed.  She was not a Gabriela Silang, not a Boadicea, not a Joan of Arc, not a Xena Warrior Princess.  It was difficult to imagine her with hair in wild disarray, mouth curled in a raging fit of anger, arms raised in a battle stance.  She was more of deep water which ran with a strong current that belied its stillness.  I vividly remember a picture of her sprinkling Holy water on her slain husband's coffin.  Ninoy's body still bore the marks of his death and his clothes still carried the bloodstains.  Her face was composed and her courage was unmistakable.  She was determined, unfazed and focused but all tucked within the folds of gentleness, integrity and conscience.  She could be tough and unyielding when the circumstances called for it, when truth and freedom were to the impending victims of a pillage.  It is interesting to note how yellow, a color which supposedly relates to cowardice, has come to hold a different meaning in the Philippine context.

Yellow: A Color of Courage, Faith and Selflessness

Ever since news of her hospital confinement hit the country in June, yellow ribbons were seen fluttering all about the metropolis - in cars, buses, bicycles, motorcyces, lamp posts, tree trunks.  Masses for her healing were held one after another.  Where so many politicians and public figures had failed, an ailing former President had succeeded - in uniting once more a nation that was polarized by bitter divisions in class and politics.  President Aquino was a woman of intense faith and she had urged the Filipinos to unceasingly pray for the Philippines.  The support through prayer came spontaneously like the yellow ribbons which sprouted overnight, like the love which a grateful people felt for the simple housewife who stood up against a dictator.

Her simplicity was astounding and were she not selfless, she would not have taken the burden of becoming the country's president along with all its trappings, intrigues and the immense pressure.  When Ninoy Aquino was in exile in Boston for three years, Cory described that time as the "happiest" in their married life.  She obviously preferred a quiet life away from the limelight but because her duty as a citizen called for being more than just standing by the sidelines, she bravely accepted what had been thrust into her hands.

A Tale of Two Women

In a time like this, it is difficult for me not to draw comparisons between her and the current President of the country.  Both are women, both came from politically affluent families, both were educated, both were thrust into power by a peaceful revolution, both came to prominence at a time of clamor for change, both took their seat as the highest official in the land with the highest hopes of their people spread before their feet like a sheet all ready for treading.

One has earned her people's love and sad to say, the other is in the opposite side of the spectrum.  One has constantly upheld the truth and sad to say, the other has not.  One has consistently fought for freedom and justice and sad to say, the other has attempted to bury them.  One has tried her best to live a life of integrity and has become a beacon of light to her people.  Sad to say, the other, even after eight years, has yet to earn her own people's trust.  

The Presidency cannot always be about popularity but it does speak so much about what a leader is when her own people have not ceased to respect her.

Walking By

As I stood by that railing in Makati on Monday and walked along with the procession up until the Ninoy Aquino memorial along Paseo de Roxas, I realized that most of the people who stood and walked beside me were people my age.  Most of them might have been toddlers or little children when President Aquino came to power.  Some of them might not have been born yet even.  But we call came to bid our farewell and pay our respects to the woman who had allowed us to grow up in a society where we have a significant degree of freedom, rights and liberties.  A woman interviewed on TV said she withstood the heat and the rain just so she could see the late President at the Manila Cathedral, saying it was her "only way to repay" President Aquino.  I understand where she was coming from but in reality, we could do so much more for her by continuing to safeguard the democratic ideals she had fought to restore, by not allowing anyone to take away our pride as a nation and as people and by continuing to fight for what is right, what is fair and what is true even in the simplest of circumstances.

A quick to flashback to 2001: I was a freshman in university and I was standing in the middle of the intersection of Ortigas Avenue and EDSA.  Right in front of me loomed the huge image of the Virgin Mary atop the EDSA Shrine as people chanted and waved huge placards, urging then President Estrada to resign.  It was almost 5PM and I was urging my friends Em and Shyne that I needed to go home badly.  I had gone to the rally without my parents' permission and I had to be home before my mother checked on my whereabouts.  We were weaving through the crowd and we finally reached a clearing.  We slowly walked towards Galleria but when we passed the gate of Corinthian Gardens subdivision, I suddenly stopped and turned around.

"Did you see that?" I asked Em.

"What?" she asked.

I turned around and walked towards the direction of the Shrine just to confirm what I saw.  All of a sudden, my excitement took the best of me and I ran back, my knapsack jiggling as I dashed back to the crowd.

Shyne and Em ran after me while shouting "What's going on?"

I turned around and shouted in one breath, "Cory, Cory, Cory!"

It was easy to remember how Shyne ran faster than I did when she heard me.  After all, she was shouting "Kris, Kris, Kris" like a true fan girl.  It was easy to remember the faces of the people in the crowd looked when they saw the former President approach.  After she did so without the slightest bit of fanfare or deluge of bodyguards.  But I will never forget what I felt the first moment I saw her emerging from the direction of the subdivision gate.  She was in black and walked slowly, casually.  She unaccompanied except by her eldest daughter Ballsy on one side and her actress-daughter Kris on the other.  The three of them had walked past me when I was heading away from the crowd.  I knew it was the former President when I first saw her but my mind went blank just like the black shirt I was wearing.  She had a pleasant look on her face and gave everybody a ready smile. I felt something indescribable well up inside me and that was when I ran back like mad just so I could stand in the same crowd with a freedom fighter.

That memory rushed back to me as I stood momentarily in front of the Makati Stock Exchange on Monday morning.  The flatbed truck bearing her wooden coffin had come to a halt because of the crowd.  When a quiet chant began somewhere, I allowed my fingers to form an "L" as I spoke in unison with the people on the streets: "Cory, Cory, Cory..."

Aside from enduring the sweltering heat and practically numbing my knees as I staggered along Padre Faura in my two-and-a-half inch heels, it certainly was a privilege to have attended the oral arguments in the Supreme Court last Wednesday concerning the nationwide automation of the May 2010 elections.  It wasn’t my first time in the Supreme Court but I still found myself eyeing the imposing pillars and ogling at the portraits of all the Chief Justices this country has had.

As the newspapers have reported, the Concerned Citizens Movement headed by Prof. Harry Roque had initially filed a motion for the issuance of a temporary restraining order about a month ago.  The motion was not granted but the Court ordered, however, that oral arguments should take place between CCM as petitioner and respondents Commission on Elections, TIM and Smartmatic.

Many issues emerged in the course of the oral arguments but one particular argument proffered by CCM caught the interest of the justices that Prof. Roque was quizzed on the issue endlessly.  This involved Sec. 6 of RA 9369 which provides for the use of the AES (automated election system) in at least two highly urbanized cities and two provinces each in Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao.  The provision states as follows:


CCM argued that the proviso was mandatory given the wording of the law.  The word “shall” was used for starters.  In addition, the last sentence of Sec. 6 states that the AES shall be implemented nationwide “in succeeding regular national or local elections,” indicating that the “pilot testing” should first take place in two highly urbanized cities and two provinces each in Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao.  The term “pilot testing” was not used in RA 9369 but this was originally utilized by Sen. Richard Gordon, one of the sponsors of the law when it was still in the initial stages as a bill.  On the other hand, the COMELEC was of the position that the provision was not mandatory and that even if it were, it had complied with the proviso through its use of the AES in the recent ARMM elections.

Statutory construction has offered three possible interpretations for the said provision which could support either view.  However, in examining the said provision, I submit that the mandatory view finds its support in another realm apart from what a former senator has called legal gobbledygook.

I do know from experience how tedious a systems project can be.  The process itself is far from a walk along the Elyssian Fields.  System development in itself is an experience which can be described as harrowing and horrifying.  Don’t get me wrong, it can be a lot of fun but at some point in time, your head starts throbbing and you don’t know for sure whether your computer will overheat before your senses.  In the process of system development, before the end product can be delivered to the end user, an important aspect is testing.  Testing in itself has a number of stages such as unit testing to system testing to user acceptance testing with each stage undergoing a particular number of iterations.  Factor in Murpy’s Law and you start to feel to have a steady supply of Paracetamol.  But the bad news comes when you realize that no matter how many times testing is done, no matter how many iterations are noted, glitches and bugs can still make their grand appearance in the actual environment.

It would be healthy to assume that Smartmatic has conducted hardware testing on its counting machines along with a systems testing of the software to be used by the machines.  However COMELEC intends to go full blast with the implementation of the AES come May 2010 and that is where my reservations start trickling in like a steady stream of code.  The machines are essential, crucial even, in determining the outcome of the elections thus they should at least have some semblance of reliability.  No, not just some semblance, they should possess a significant degree of reliability.  Reliability, in turn, is assured by system which is stable and should perform according to its intended function without compromising or altering the data input.  These are the very attributes which testing is going to highlight.

Before the AES is to be implemented, it is essential that it should first be tested in the actual environment.  This is what the “pilot testing” intended in Section 6 aims to do.  The “pilot testing” in two highly urbanized cities and two provinces in Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao will reveal possible system problems which could be encountered including user difficulties, system defects, bugs, environment problems and the like.  Only until all such permutations have been accounted for should a nationwide rollout of the AER take place.  In systems development, despite all the testing a system undergoes, problems are still encountered in the actual environment as not all issues with the system can be anticipated.  In the same vein, if the AER were to be implemented nationwide without first undergoing pilot testing with the actual users a.k.a. the voters, it can be assumed that voting come May 2010 will not be easy.  The ARMM elections cannot be considered as the “pilot testing” intended by the law since different machines were utilized.  In testing, the same hardware and software should be used in the actual environment, otherwise there would be no point in going into the exercise.

Knowing that these counting machines are crucial in reflecting the choices I make as to who should comprise this government come 2010, it is therefore reasonable to demand integrity, reliability and stability.  In fact, it is my sacrosanct right to do so.  Utmost protection should be given to every vote and part of securing that vote is to make sure that each ballot is properly accounted for.  The right of suffrage is the very cornerstone of our democratic society and I would certainly want to be assured that my vote was counted – and counted properly, at that.  No matter how some pessismists argue that this is nothing but legal fiction, there is certainly no way that I would allow my voice to fall into a dark unknown crevice, (no) thanks to a mere machine. 

About eleven years ago, I went nuts over my MOPyfish, a virtual pet named Christina which lived in my monitor and resembled a parrot fish. Christina, like her other siblings spawned by their MOPyfish mother, was available for download from the HP website. For starters, it was completely lifelike unlike other virtual pets which looked like Looney Tunes rip-offs. It swam around the screen with graceful fins as if it were really underwater. Christina was fed everyday and I could play with her by clicking on her and she would make underwater somersaults. She had a temper, though and overclicking on her would make my MOPyfish scuttle away into some unknown corner of the monitor.

At first, a MOPyfish's tank came bare: nothing but darkness and seeming depth. But points could be acquired with printouts (hence the MOP in MOPy which meant Multiple Original Printouts). When I reached a point threshold, I'd get MOPyfish paraphernalia like a plant or aphrodisiac which made Christina hyper and give me a kiss. Eventually I learned you could download a rip for the software without a need for printouts.

The realization that Christina's lifelikeness was both a boon and a bane came later. I was on vacation with my father for a month and when I came back, the first thing I did was to rush to my computer to check on Christina. I was horrified when I found her floating on the "water surface" with her belly on the side, looking every inch like a real dead fish! It was so realistic I could almost smell the stench and my stomach lurched at the thought that a dead fish had been floating inside my computer for a month.

For virtual reality, some say the more realistic, the better. In terms of virtual fish as pets, that may not always be the case. And Christina's lifelikeness did more than just scare the socks off my toes. She bore a hole in my pocket and cost me a lot of ink. Back then, I should have realized there was indeed something fishy behind that kiss.

Also in: Law and ICT

Lately, the rain has been a constant presence in Manila's afternoons.  I should have known that it was a bad idea to have the car washed and my friend Joey did give me ample warning.  I was walking back to the car when I realized that the sky was clear and the sun was shining mightily with its rays outstretched like an extended slinky.  So I decided to bring the car to the wash shop and as the mud and the grime started to disappear before my very eyes, I believe I made the right choice.

I spent the rest of the afternoon holed up in the debilitating coldness of the student lounge, trying to study while trying to ignore the lure of the couch.  By 4 PM, rain pours down in torrents and washes away eighty pesos worth of car wash.  Oh well, at least the car was clean for a couple of hours.


I haven't been to the bookstore in about three weeks - and that's a long time considering its proximity to the place where I live along with the fact that I used to drop by the bookstore twice a week to browse through new titles, snag a few free reads and, of course, smell book paper. 

On my way home, I decided to make a quick stop to my favorite place on this side of the world.  After all the week had been a pain in the derriere and I did deserve a break.  Besides, I could use the time to check out which books I could get with packet of gift cards I got from my parents and my GG-mates on my birthday (arguably the best gift anyone could ever get me).  I did end up getting C.S. Lewis' "Till We Have Faces" and Malcolm Gladwell's "Outliers" and I was walking out with what could be my weekend reprieve, I looked up and saw the falling drops of rain reflected on a street lamp.  Back where I'm from, old people attribute gender to a lot of things, even rain and the rain tonight perfectly fit the "male" type - small, thin pinpricks which hit the ground with silence.  This was in contrast to the "female" variant which consisted of huge, fat drops which plopped like water-filled balloons erupting when hit by darts.

Maybe it was the yellow light from the lamp post against the darkness of the sky but the rain tonight seemed to fall with such softness, it almost felt wispy, lightweight, like snow piling quietly over a rooftop (not that I've actually seen snow fall but the movies do seem to show it).  The raindrops looked so delicate they could have disappeared like vapor the minute they hit my "Mickey Mouse's dismembered parts" umbrella. 

On my way back to the parking lot, sloshing through the street in the rain that looked like snow was practically therapeutic.


Weird story coming up.

I think I might have a stalker.

A bunch of pigeons live somewhere in that space above the ceiling of the law school building.  They practically fly over my head when I walk across the oft-deserted hallway of the third floor while toting my dismembered "Rules of Court."  Sometimes, sparrows join them in some game of hide-and-seek but generally, the birds pretty much keep to themselves.  That's something that I am comfortable with because I have this unexplained fear of the avian kind.  Blame it on Alfred Hitchcock's "Birds" or that movie about ghosts manifesting themselves as hawks or something.  The eyes scare me and the way they cock their heads in an almost robotic fashion give me the creeps.

Yesterday was a day like any other in my rather somber existence in law school.  I was standing on the open area across the hall from my third floor classroom, parroting provisions I had committed to memory when I looked up to see a pigeon perched on a water pipe above me.  That would have been nothing extraordinary had I not realized that the pigeon was staring at me with its unblinking little eyes!  It sat on the pipe, neck unmoving as if it had bird paralysis or something and its eyes fixed on what seemed to be my face.  I moved my head to the right, to the left, bobbed it forward then backward but the pigeon still sat there, staring at me intently.  Then with its beady eyes still fixed on me, it started opening its pink little beak as if it was trying to say something to me, as if I could comprehend the slightest smattering of bird speak.

"Cha..." I called out to my friend.  "You've got to see this.  The pigeon's looking at me."

"Well, there's no reason why they they shouldn't be there.  They live there, you know," Cha answered me.

"I know," I said, aware that I sounded obviously silly.  Maybe all the memorization and talk about the Corfu Channel was making my synapses overheat, resulting to illusions about a white bird with a stiff neck and a hyperactive beak. 

"But, really, it's staring at me...and it's opening its mouth too."

Cha looked up to the ceiling and started laughing.  "You didn't see the other one?"

Bewildered, I followed her gaze.  "What other one?"

True enough, there was another pigeon sitting right above my first captive audience, its head and neck somewhat snuggled into its breast yet still obviously staring at me with the same beady eyes and intent gaze.

"This isn't funny, Cha," I said as I began to move away from the ledge.  What if the birds were delusional and were seeing me as a large piece of bird food?  I started singing the pigeon fling its white body into me like a compies leaping into their prey.  Okay, I was being ridiculous. 

Cha said maybe I was channelling Snow White.  Dahlia, another friend, offered an interesting suggestion which, if I did take up, was going to be as weird as having two pigeons for a captive audience - try singing "Happy Working Song" with the matching "Aaaahh-aaahh."  It just might bring in more members of their flock and more bird stalkers to freak me out.

Maybe I am going insane.  Or just being over-imaginative.

Weird story over.  But that does not change the fact that the birds were still staring at me.