how safe is safe?

when this is the state of affairs, when our president is hanging on to power by taking as much of it as she can at the expense of the constitution, the rule of law, the protected rights of the citizen which have always been balanced with those of the state's.

dissenters left and right are being arrested. students are massing at gathering places in their schools. professors are cancelling class in protest. nuns and priests are praying.

how safe is safe? if to be safe means to not say a word or do a thing which could in some way be construed as subversive or rebellious or seditious, if it means choosing the people you talk to and being afraid to give your name when giving a comment to the media, if it means there are prior restraints not only on freedom to speak and to peaceably assemble and to get information, if it means that soldiers will be walking around in plain clothes waiting, just waiting, for a slip of the tongue, is it worth it?

to not be free to move and talk and think the way you have a right to? is that life even?

i've never been an activist. edsa one-as a baby on the shoulders of my uncle, and dos-as a high school student i went to, but nothing else since then. i've always thought that rallyists devote much of their time to shouting at the rain and getting shit for it. i've always thought that maybe, just maybe, i WILL rally again. when it's worth it.

i think this is that time.

now if i could only figure out a way to do it without my dad grounding me for life. (of course i'll still stand up for my beliefs, but i'd rather have an allowance while doing so)

leaving you with a quote:

it is not the critic who counts:not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose faced is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again...who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly.- theodore roosevelt.

those kinds of guys...a moment for you.

You, who I met one weird July night six years ago sitting at starbucks with fellow fencers , who kept me company while waiting for my man of the moment, the first man to break my heart, to arrive. You who struck a conversation with me about anything and everything, a conversation that never really ends, picks up wherever it left off whenever we have our sporadic instant messaging moments, texting moments, once a blue moon lunches and dinners. You who are my friend for all seasons, taken or single, heartbroken of overflowing with lust or might-have-been-really-love, happy and sad, troubled and carefree. You have unknowingly taken me through the roughest of times, enhanced the happiest moments, brought me back to sanity, kept me in a state of optimism about mankind. You have been my anchor, my wise cracking wise friend, my genius philosopher musician friend, my unforgivingly brutally frank shoulder-to-cry-on and hand outstretched in support. I’ve been to fewer of your gigs than I should have, I never watched your play, I don’t see you everyday, I don’t know all your deepest darkest secrets. And we don’t need to. Our friendship would survive even if we knew those deep dark secrets, but we don’t need to. Six years, with a lot more to come.

You, who I met one fine March day five years ago when I visited my batch’s high school grad ball, the date of one of my sweetest friends, who talked to me and amused me. We saw each other never in the first three years since the first meeting, exchanged offbeat quotes, funny conversations in the meantime. Then when fate brought me closer to where you lived our friendship became more in-person, a dinner here, coffee there. less than most people have in friendship, but more than before. Improvement however small is everything. You have been my funny friend, my keeping company friend, my common sense such-a-guy friend.

You, who broke my heart the very first time I really gave it to someone, who broke it again and again with each hello and goodbye, who went out with me in lieu of the sister you could never have. You, an adult, a genius, a beautiful-music maker, scary angry man.
You treated me like a child, then treated me like I was all grown up, depending on the situation. You left me for two girls, you left me cause it was over, you went away and came back and then fell in love for what I think is the last time, the most perfect time, to her. And so I go on with our friendship, greetings during birthdays and other occasions, knowing that the day will come when I will either receive a wedding invite, or news of your marriage. You, my monster, my once deepest pain, my friend. I let go of that past, and accept this better future for us. With no misunderstanding, no bitterness, no hate.

You, who I met in class, with whom I discovered a mutual aversion to barok people, who watched movies with me, who got into trouble with his possessive ex and not ex and ex and not ex girlfriend for me. You who introduced me to the others, them who keep me strangely sane in these days of upside-downness. You text out of the blue just to check up on me, refuse to share momentous occasions over text with me and wait for our rare tambay times, you give me hours of phone whine time, you laugh at my stupidity and cringe with me when I make mistakes.

You, my blockmate, who found love with one of my loves, who can curse me and criticize me and pick fights with me but in the end, be there for me. You’re no-nonsense, narcissistic, expressionless, stupid every now and then, lazy, but you for me are a friend I couldn’t do without.

You, family friend, who i met all those years ago by your family's pool in laguna, almost ten years of here and there conversations, phone lines cut off due to a year of incessant long distance calls, sporadic meetings to catch up on our lives. Our paths would never have crossed had it not been for that pool party of march 97. Am i glad i let my dad drag me to that one.

You guys, and those others who are in my life. You guys who pick me up with your words and your company, and your hugs and your corny jokes. You keep my head out of the clouds, or up from the bitter hell I can sometimes go to. You don’t treat me like I’m stupid, or I’m worthless, or I’m evil.

You accept, and you support. And you drink with me.

Just in case you were thinking I take you for granted, I don’t.

manila girl for a night

to boyong and jessie and alan and pia and melay and the brief glimpse of shibby. old friends, new music. to akelle and chino and the drunken rf? tama ba spelling??? new friends. i missed the gig, but i was there for the win. super plan x rules!!!! period.

to michael, ozzy, my friend, my dear, my dearest dearest friend.

amazing.

three hours before i saw you i was drowning in the tears i fought not to cry.

then there you guys were.

four hours, blue room, bottles of beer, bad sisig, and good tight bear hugs, commiserating comments, sympathy, no nonsense brutal frankness-care of ozzy later,

much, much better.

the tears are still there, but farther away from the surface. but now i can say nothing and mean it.

amazing.

want nothing, get nothing.

cause i was happy with friendship. all i wanted was to be able to look you i the eye and not harbor evil, homicidal thoughts about you.

i wanted peace.

after the events of the past month, which happened after our first disastrous encounter, after those events which have cost me friends and strained me, drained me of everything but the energy to get up in the morning and attempt to smile at least, after all that and the upcoming months of stress-filled work,

i wanted peace.

you and your misguided, line crossing friendship, you and your words of revisiting pasts better not ever revisited, you and your "vulnerability". you and your more than friendship that i had tried very hard to let go of and move on from.

and three days later those words and emotions and whatever else disappeared, victim yet again to your almost freakish ficklemindedness. and i'm the one left hanging. i'm the one who has to not be overcome with sadness and humiliation and frustration yet again.

you better make this one work. you better make sure this one counts. cause that's the only way the end of this attempt at friendship with you will have meaning.

this sudden development better be one you make count.

because i'm not like our mutual friend. i can't forgive you like she does. i can't support you like she does. i can't continue to care for you and be your friend and listen to you like she does.

all i have left from these months, from them and from you, is the belief in my capacity to let go.

like you said before. go back to nothing. notwithstansding my angry words to whoever i unloaded on, they were words spoken in anger. i gave you my forgiveness and my friendship free from that anger. but you, your words and your actions, you betrayed not the idea of what the two of us had tried to be and what the two of us could have been. you betrayed that friendship. that choice.

you wanted nothing then.

you'll get nothing now.

on types,exes and favorite mistakes, and yes, revisiting pasts

la lang...just in the mood to rant.


this guy i was once with said i'm high maintenance when it comes to choosing guys. bakit ba? considering na i've been making mistakes left and right with my -formerly - "i ain't picky" shtick, isn't it time i let the prospectives know what i want?


i like them well behaved, with a sense of humor, punctual-even when i'm not, romantic, not overly mushy, kahit papano manly, but not testosterone overloaded, kinda smart, conversant in a certain language, depending on my mood- an awkward or gifted dancer, taller than i am, a bit older than i am, not obssessed with thin chicks-i will never again be one, not totally DUH, chivalrous but not chauvinistic.


i do not like them overly crass, rude, inexcusably obnoxious, in subject-verb disagreement, challenged when it comes to the art of pronouncing english words, all angsty and mysterious, too pakipot, passive-aggressive, overly pontificating, stupid at cheating.

please.

when you cheat, make sure i don't catch you. when i do- given that you were stupid enough to cheat in the first place- don't blame me for your cheating. you decide where your dick goes.


excepting BO, bad breath, hideous facial features, malformed body parts...no specific physical attributes. i like variety. hehehehehe.


see? what high maintenance? basics lang yan!!!! seriously though,i'm not as landi as that sounds. i will NOT make the first move. but hehehehehehe...well....di joke lang.


but considering the last few guys in my reality and in my contemplation, i can't say for a fact what my type really is, except, i have no type.


in my defense, i don't think that's aiming too high for me. i speak a couple of languages plus a dialect, i'm kinda educated, i'm nice to animals, i'm the joke-time daughter and sister, i love like crazy, i'm lambing and sweet-hehe exagg na to- and all that. i'm not naman that ugly, and i'm kinda back to medium. not that i cared much in the first place.


unless...if you're looking for demure, sporty, quiet, intellectual, artsy, fashionista, well-put-together, serene, perfect posture, gorgeous chick, look A LOT further. i got the boobs, but i ain't got the 'tude. hehe labo.


seriously though. i'm a loser when it comes to things like that. i curse-quite colorfully though i'm working on this cause i like to think i'm adult, i drink, i dance like i'm looking to get SOMEthing, i dress down, dress serious, dress black, i'm mouthy, i'm moody, i'm sarcastic, i read stupid books, i watch stupid movies, i like lots of different pop-culture music, i like corny jokes. my hair's lucky if it gets combed before i go to school, my face, hehe. lack of sleep and lots of alcohol is evil to it. but i love shoes. love 'em.

so if you can't handle it, i don't blame you. heehee. sometimes i'd like to kill myself too!


back to the ex. exes.

in fairness that same guy is still my friend, notwithstanding the fact that people say exes can never be friends. well, we are.

as long as you accept it's over, as long as you can keep your delusions and hopes to yourself if you still have them, as long as you can hide the fact that you want to kill the new girl- even if it hurts, even if you want to badly, even when she's totally better than you are, you can be friends.
and that i think is the curse on EX-friendship.

some people can't quite get past those teeny issues. and some don't want to. and they lose out on friendships that work cause these people, these exes, they don't mince words. they'll tell you what you're screwing up, they'll tell you where you're going wrong. they'll make fun of the new guy, they'll tease you and even get jealous. they'll be nice when the new guy ends up on the list of exes, cause they know where you're coming from, and where he went wrong. if it lasts, they gracefully withdraw from the main picture, but stay quietly in the support sidelines just in case you need a good cry and crushing lecture.

these exes, they're fun. they know what you want, they tell you what they want, and when you hang out it works, cause you have nothing to lose anymore. and if, every now and then, there's a frisson of attraction, some tiny little twinge, some nagging little memory of what made you guys get together in the first place, if every now and then when you get a bit too drunk you get a bit too hand-hold-y or sweet words-y,

par for the course, ain't it?


just in case anyone's wondering, NO. i am not drunk. not right now. and YES. i have other, more important, RELEVANT matters to attend to (i kinda am in law school still, though i might not be for long). and NO, there is no one, not right now, i'm taking seriously. and YES, i mean it about those attributes i listed above. and NO, i don't think i just wrote a personal ad of some sort.god i hope not.

i just wanted to write.

to those people who expect erudite esoteric i was born to be artiste kinds of entries,

not me. not here.

heehee...drinks, anyone?

trouble ahead

had this conversation with this girl who's one of those people i talk to and trust especially when it comes to my disastrous love life. or at times lack even of a disastrous one.

and i came away from it part amused, part amazed, part confused, part hopeful, part apathetic, part pissed.

cause here i go again.

just when i think i've reached equilibrium, well...equilibrium as is applied to me, just when i think my focus is readjusted, my life well partitioned, my schedule scheduled,

something happens.

and as i seemingly unfailingly-did i just massacre english?sorry- always end up doing, i am once again swimming in one of the deepest piles-wait, solid to diba? basta- of shit ever known to man.

i am in deep shit.

deep stinky shit.

cause me, and guys, it never works out. it's always one thing, or another. or another. and i'm always the one who ends up half crazy.

i dunno how this will work. i dunno how this will end. or start. i dunno if there's even a THIS. i dunno if i should even worry, or take it seriously, or laugh it off, or just-goddamnit-say no.

but sure as there's hell and i'm on my way there,

this is bound to be one hell of an episode for my telenovela life.

it's over!!!!!

the past few weeks have been hell on my nerves, and as much as i would dearly love to say that i'm not to blame, as much as it totally sucks to say it, i am.

because i should've just held my ground, not said anything, not to anyone, and stood up for myself when the situation called for it.

because i should know by now. you don't want to test loyalties when you're not sure where loyalties lie in the first place.

because i have a big mouth, and while it helps me delay the onset of my bipolarity it gets me into a lot of trouble, especially when i test those loyalties and when someone's listening i didn't know.

because i could've just held on...a bit longer...and not endangered and ended the friendships i inherited through my sister and tried to earn by myself.

but well.

this is the path i walked, and while many words were said, many people alienated, many many MANY mistakes were made, many a day was spent troubled and crying, i can console myself by saying:

IT'S OVER.

what's done is done, and you can't go back.

the people i lost, i never had them. the words i said, to the best of what i know to be true(hehe labo) i will stand by them. those tears, chalked up to experience.

and the best thing is...

now i know. and those friends who were there, who i let down, who still stayed, who believed,

i owe you.

some people might think i'm ecstatic about the outcome, that i feel totally utterly vindicated, well...

bahala kayo. believe what you want.

i'm done.

so thanks, ate 'sanne-and sorry, my adoptive parents faye and charles, the outspoken ate vivs, kuya mon and ate nayna, benyamin, and the Bibo Block.

to my ateles. war or not, peace or not, still. kuya aman. basta.

on valentine's day and the law school curse

in anticipation of the upcoming day of love and candy and roses and clasped hands, i am making preparations to celebrate the fourteenth of february, the much-hyped over-marketed stress-inducing depression-triggering ultimate-hallmark-moment day of the year.

last year at around this time i was:

1. still in college
2. still without a thesis
3. drinking all the time
4. crushing on a kid
5. in denial about a relationship that had seen its best days end.

this year i am

1. being a masochist-in law school
2. done with my stupid thesis and now a graduate
3.drinking all the time
4.with numerous interests
5.single.

this last thing wouldn't really bother me much, except one time i was out drinking with faye, candy and vivian and they were talking about law school grads who were girls. who fell victim to what could only be called a curse on law school women.

they found success in their chosen fields, they were reasonably attractive-read: not hideously deformed, and SINGLE.

so...sheeit.

in contemplation

to drop or not to drop. that is the question.

it's been plaguing me for the past few weeks as i take moments here and there to take stock of my academic performance and the options available to me should i think that i am once again swimming in the waters of academic deep shit.

last sem it was legal history. that subject while quite interesting (thanks to the off-color near-activist comments by our professor) eluded my great powers of bullshit. by mid semester my standing was such that if i made it to the finals and -as i am wont to do with subjects such as this- i flunked the finals, i would have seen my first five of my law school career. i dropped that subject, along with twelve of my like-minded blockmates, and escaped the massacre. our prof flunked half of the 16 who stayed behind.

while apparently there is a new directive from the office of the college secretary that says that students who dropped subjects have to take them with the original professor, which means that merely delayed what would've been my first five, that is a matter of no immediate concern to me.

this subject, the one i'm worried about right now, is kinda like legal history. not a bar subject. two units. two infernally long hours. few cases, but lots of articles written by people with lots of time on their hands and quite possibly no life. but there are small differences.

in this subject, i'm close to being dropped for excessive absences- the first when i got sent out for not having a stupid picture in the stupid seat plan, then when i went with sina kuya aman to supreme court, then when the prof got pissed at us for going out of the classroom, then when i wasn't feeling well, then when my aunt was here and we spent her last day in the philippines with her, although i was sick then too.

also, i haven't been called yet, and i'm still trying to shore up enough courage to volunteer and thus get as close to my professor's good graces as humanly possible. though in fear of being called i speed read my way through three articles and now am reasonably confident that i won't sound like a total putz.

plus, the professor has this droning voice that-if i wasn't seated at the first row and thus under his ever watchful eye- induces deep sleep. and he hates my guts.

but while these points are seemingly pointing towards the obvious answer of dropping, i also have to consider the fact that removals in method beckons, and i still have to re-take legal history, and i'd simply be delaying boredom and a five-yet again-for a year.

sigh. decisions decisions.

style-from the new blog.

someone recently made a comment that when i invite friends-who-happen-to-be-guys to drink, i'm putting the moves on them.

i'm not.

first. my philosophy on drinking is "the more the merrier". so hello, i wouldn't invite just one person. i'd mass invite and hope not everyone is in dork mode on a middle of the week drinking day like wednesday.

second. that style is not my style. even if i like a person, when i want to drink that consideration is far from important. friends are better drinking buddies in the first place.

and last,

really, is this what the world has come to?

to get a guy you invite him to drink? hello?

whatever happened to dinner and dancing and movies and all the other cliches? cliches yes, but fun nonetheless. and i wouldn't ask a guy out. ew. considering the following points

1) im still a bit conservative about the asking-people-out issue.

2) i like it when guys ask me out.

3) i'm a coward anyways.



so there.