Two Million Thoughts

Haiku holds a very important role in Japanese literature. It is more than just a genre of poetry; it is a lifestyle. As I see it, there is more to it than art or literature–it is an expression of an individual’s (poet’s) mood or discovery of life, written in such a short yet powerful manner.

I was fortunate to have attended three lecture classes by David Burleigh, an Irish literature professor specializing in haiku and its translation. For one academic year, I drowned myself with these interesting form of Japanese poetry– eternally admiring its 5-7-5 syllabic structure and the inclusion of a season word. There is just something with haiku that I cannot stop loving it.

During the midterm exam week, I resorted to writing short verses I would love to call haiku of my own, just to redeem myself from utmost boredom. So, here are my random thoughts of self-awakening, inspired by my ObliCon, Criminal Law II and Legal Ethics classes, my Hayahay wistful thinking, and anything and everything mundane and profound.

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Blank stares at the sky

The Lawyers’ Oath in my mind–

Argh! Memorize.

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Dark stains on his heart

Memories of the past haunts…

Prison cells waiting!

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Start of an ending–

The fiery, red sun slowly,

In a trance, descends.

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The road never ends

Tired, barely breathing, I saw–

a silver lining.

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It is 9 A.M!

Echoes of screeches and honks

The city’s alive!

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She whirled and tumbled

Everything stopped and crashed

–the eleventh shot!

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Giving something else

Due to insufficient funds

– dacion en pago!

If life is soo cruel, if I could not be happy these days, then, can I just pursue artificial happiness? If endorphins could fool our minds to make it numb, if Prozac can cure depression, can I invent my own pill for happiness?

This was the question that led to my theory this morning. If there is artificial happiness, by all means, I wanted badly to have it. If there are certain things that make one happy, certainly, I could make my own, too.

So I started the day doing the things that usually make me smile. I woke to the smell of sweet bubblegum, ate a hearty breakfast of oats and oranges, took a very looonnnggg shower, used my fave shower gel, and psyched up myself to be happy. I deliberately chose the color pink, a color I have shunned since I joined the debating team (I am mourning my stupidity for joining), and my fave white pedals my cousin got me from London. I wore things that reminded me of happy days in the College of Communication, i.e., one of my fave chandelier earrings, the one with lime, green, and pink transluscent crystals. And for the first time in five days, I wore my parent’s gift, my silver necklace and my pearl ring, and one of my fave memoirs from the Land of the Rising sun, my Seiko wristwatch (I stopped wearing jewelry since I joined the team). I desperately wanted to be happy.

Everything went well this morning. I got my speech draft back with only minor corrections from my fave teacher. And for some kind of miracle or twist of fate, I was able to better understand the Bill subject of the debate.

I had a great nap and wore a nude pink lipgloss to accentuate my quest for happiness. And then, it happened. I went to school only to realize that someone might/could/is actually not happy with me being in the team. It wasn’t that bad, I tried to convince myself. Afterall, we all have our rights to express our opinion. Besides, one word can be construed differently and I might not exactly know what he meant by it.

But then it dawned on me like the Twin Towers crashing down. I started to cry. I never volunteered to be in the team, in the first place. I have always said "No," b*****t! I never told anyone that I could debate, that I could be a good rebuttal speaker! I honestly don’t know how to debate, how to be a rebuttal speaker! I wanted to scream; I wanted to cry my heart out until it breaks and perhaps, I could die a peaceful death. I really wanted to die. I wanted to back out. I wanted that person to know that I would gladly and willingly trade places with the taho vendor just sooo I won’t be in the debate team. Only God knows what kind of prayers I mumbled in my desperate attempt to convince Him to let those people realize that I am not worth to be in the team. I even asked for a chicken pox, that severe acute LRTI that I usually have, or even, leukemia. I NEVER WANTED TO BE A REBUTTAL SPEAKER FOR THIS STUPID DEBATE SO HOW DARE HE COMPLAIN MY INCLUSION IN THE TEAM? Does he not know that I even felt coerced and compelled, that my "implied consent" to join was vitiated due to some kind of an intimidation?

For heaven’s sake, I could disappear into thin air come Saturday night and never be heard of again. I could actually do this. Promise. I could have just dropped my subjects and pack my things and take a sojourn of my own without anyone pressuring me but somehow, I kept telling myself that I need to do this for the college.

So much for my quest for artificial happiness. Guess life’s trying to slap and give me a lesson by staging a big show called  Elusive Happiness, starring my very own self.

At the end of the show, the Mighty Force is shown, saying: Zusabel, if you can’t be happy, then, you just have to content yourself with being sad. You can’t fake happiness, afterall.

No bitchy complaint, whining, rant, nor rage could ever describe what I feel. No adjective, adverb, word, syllable, nor expression could ever express  my anger/depression/frustration/disappointment/disillusionment. No cussing word, below-the-belt remark, nor curse, in whatever language, can ever quantify the degree or level of the previously mentioned emotions present in my system right now.

To use the CIPA analogy in my supposed-to-be rebuttal speech, the idea of which I got from the latest installment of House Season 3, I am quite positive I have that congenital disease of insensitivity to pain. Only that the pain I am insensitive of is not physical but the emotional one.

Only God knows how much physical pain I am suffering right now. I wouldn’t cry two nights in a row for a slight pain, would I? I went home last night and I found myself crying again because my body is just too tired–the only thing I could do is cry. It has been three consecutive nights that I woke up, feeling someone choking me to death, only to find out it was my asthma recurring again.

Oh well, I can manage physical pain. What I am more worried about is emotional pain. There is just too much and my heart has become numb. And I hate it when it comes to this point.

I figured out I haven’t had a good rant in this blog (the last one was like two years ago) so here goes all my rage, emotional outbursts, frustrations, and insults. All these I have tried to contain and subdue, but now the container’s full and it’s leaking. It’s time to unleash the other side of me. Afterall, I would not have been called a bitch if I would just keep these to myself and say nothing.

1) I hate the fact of being trapped, being left on my own, and being led to believe that I have no choice. Like yeah, whoever said there are no choices in this life? I grew up thinking that there are always choices and it is up to my discernment to choose. As what I have written in my other blog, I always smirk at someone who thinks he/she has no choice. It is either he/she is too dumb to discover the choices, or too scared to make the choice.

2) The choices include the choice to say ‘no.’ It is as simple as that.  No need for explanation. So, if I invoke this choice to say ‘no,’ people need to respect that. What’s the purpose of democracy if I am not allowed to refuse?

3) In life, there is always the natural law of respect, equality, and independence of human will. I am a human being, not a robot.  I have the right to make my decisions. An average person ought to know this even if he/she has no background or whatsoever in law or legal studies. I must add an emphasis on independence of human will.

4) I am no automaton. I need rest. I need a break. I can’t work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. My body can’t just manage sleeping at midnight and waking up early for an eight o’clock appointment. I value the art of sleeping. Need I say more?

5) I never claimed to be someone I am not, so I firmly believe I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Yep, I graduated with a round metal hanging around my neck, as what Jello would like to call it, but did I ask for it? I have proven myself worthy enough to wear that on graduation day. Period.

6) It does not necessarily follow that if I could write, I could also speak well. I love the art of putting life into words but I never cared about giving life to words. These are two different things. And I have always said, and will say it again, I’d rather die not saying anything than die not having written anything at all.

More to come… so please stand by… If you find this offensive, sorry peeps, but this is my blog, remember? *right eyebrow raised with a sarcastic smile*

Only one more midterm exam to go. Summaries, notes, reviewers and memory aids will soon be set aside. No more one-day breaks. Breaks that never gave you one because you have to study anyway. It’s soon back to the regular class days. Terror teachers. Confusing provisions. One-hour recitations. A handful of cases to read. Lesser time to steal for Internet getaways. Tutorial sessions. Back to reality. Will I have enough time for all these?

Two more days and I’d be sailing to my dear old Bohol. Amazing triscapes while on the fastcraft ride. Home-cooked food. Beach outing. Mall hopping. Gotta get a new book to read. Not a law book, definitely. Nature trips. Special moments with the cam. Poses. Finally diving into sea water. Sea shells. Fresh sea breeze. The hammock by the mango tree. My dear, dear bed that I share with my sis. The airconditioner. My mom’s well-cared plants.

Spent two hours listening to the first Thursday Forum. Constitutional Reforms. Political dynasties. Politicians jumping over da bakod. Lack of political loyalty. No political philosophies. Movie stars and entertainers in politics. Pacman for mayor? Vote-buying. A party-list system that is ineffective. Supposed to be a system of marginalized sectors but why are marginalized groups still not represented? The need for an enlightened electorate. The more important need for an honest, fraud-free COMELEC.

Just took the midterm exam in Legal Ethics. The Code of Professional Responsibility. Lawyer’s Oath. Candor, courtesy and good faith to the Court. Allegiance to the Constitution. The legal profession is a public responsibility, not a business entity. No harassing tactics against the adverse parties. Ha! Lawyers need to check and review their ethics.

Two hours to go before I go to bed. In my new room. I love this room. My walk-in closet. Whew! The sweet bubblegum scent courtesy of my Jap friends’ mosquito repellant. The native mat. The big windows. My silk curtain flowing and dancing to the beat of the breeze.

If you expect to read something mushy, something about loving and getting head-over-heels, then, you got the wrong page. This is not about love nor is this about feeling some "chemistry" with someone. Neither is this a pre-Valentine treat to anyone. Sorry, peeps, but I am in no mood for that lovey dovey brouhaha just yet.

I am writing this article for those who have been good to me for the past years–those people patient enough to understand me in all my baffling extremities, from those I-think-I-am-the-luckiest-girl-on-earth/I-could-dance-like-no-one’s-watching moments or those I-think-everybody-hates-me/The-world-just-dropped-me instances. I want the whole world to know those people who stood by me, fought with me, laughed with me, cried with me, loved me, plotted revenge with me, and those who accompanied me through thick and thin, sunshine or rain, reggae nights or karaoke sing-all-you-can, window shopping or impulse buying. 

I suddenly had this urge to write something entitled "A Happy Heart" but I had no idea what it would be about then. And suddenly, out of nowhere, I just remembered the people that kept me going despite life’s uncertainties and complexities. I know I have been complaining a lot about the unfairness of life and its never-ending punches constantly hurled against me, but to say so without ever mentioning life’s goodness is in itself an unfairness.

So here’s my loudest and sincerest "Thank you so much!" to all of you out there: to those who were always ready to pick me up in my old boarding house to take me to Hayahay on Wednesday nights; to those who willingly gave up their time with their special someone just to share a lunch with me and let me ventilate all my rants and raves; to those who graciously accommodated me in their rooms after I failed to be home before curfew time; to those who bought me all my cravings just soo they could see me smile; to those who gave rational advices; to those who agreed with me no matter how irrational I was at those times; to the one who who waited until my Law classes just so I could talk about killing myself when people started pressuring me into joining a pageant; to those who brought me meds when I was sick or simply cut classes just so I would not feel too bad having missed a class; to my best and superclose friends who never tire to do anything under the sun with me; to those who let me cry in their shoulders; to those who encouraged and supported me to go on a diet without any judgment; to the one who shared her family to me; to those who shared their television sets or VCD/DVDs; to those who treated me out; to those who were patient enough to listen to my queer ideas; to those who shared their ideas with me, too; to those who texted/emailed or posted a comment in my blog to tell me they enjoy reading my entries, despite the fact that I sometimes forget the rules of grammar; to those who encouraged me to write and write more; to those who opposed my ideas and showed me a different perspective; to those who trusted my skills; to those who recognized my raw talent in whatever they think I had a talent on; to those who simply understood the uniqueness of my personality without any grudges or complaints… You, guys and gals, gals at heart and guys at heart, know who you are.

No words can ever say how much I appreciate your kind words and understanding deeds. No feelings can quantify my gratitude to God for making you all a part of my life and me a part of yours too. I don’t want to sound mushy or corny, but hey, without you, guys, gals, gals at heart, and guys at heart, I would not have gone this far.

I look forward to more years of friendship and I hope I would meet more people like you.