Two Million Thoughts

Thirty-five minutes from now, hoping everything will go well as planned, I’ll be onboard Weesam bound for the City of Friendship! Wohooo! I’m finally going home! I can’t believe it’s been a month and 4 days that I have not gone home! It’s a world record actually for the homesick person that I am; I usually cannot stand Dumaguete without going home for at least once every two weeks.

Well, my first goal this summer is to reinvent my life. Hahaha. Go figure out how am I gonna do that.

See you in Bohol!

I was planning to blog about my other blog at dekarabaw, which was obviously now lost in space. I was about to yak and complain (again!) about life, yada yada, but the sight of an Inquirer at the library table a while ago tempted me to sit down. The moment I caught the smell of the newsprint pages, I was enticed; it was hard to resist reading it afterall, despite the fact that I’ve come to swore off newspapers for they only make my stressed-out life more stressful.

The news report that bothered me most is the continuing coverage of the (in)famous Satur Ocampo arrest. I was eating dinner with Mae and Sharae (*wink) when I first saw the news on TV. Now, it is the 10th day of his arrest and still no one is complaining. Of course, de Quiros and the rest of the media have been persistently writing articles and columns about the injustice going on but no one in the Senate or Congress, the supposed to be representatives of the people, have come forward to speak out.

I guess this is just one of the menacing Arroyo tactics. The arrest was perfectly timed so almost everybody will be too busy about the elections, and the unlawful arrest would just die in silence. But then, they got the wrong man. Satur Ocampo, the name itself, commands respect from people from all walks of life, even from those Bayan Muna non-members and non-activists like me.

It is disappointing to note that Ocampo is being arrested for multiple murders twenty years ago. It is even more disappointing that it is now his third time to be arrested and detained for the same allegations, the previous two having been failed for there was no crime found at all.

It disheartens me really that a poor good old man like Ocampo, who have fought against Martial Law and who is continuing the fight for the masses, is the one being detained now while the gambling lords and election cheaters are running for Senatorial seats and are holding power, free from any harm. It amuses me, at the same time, disappoints me, to realize how defective our justice system is. Now, we are detaining a man for the third time, for the same accusation of multiple murders committed 20 years ago, irrespective of the prescription period, while journalists and activists are being slained everyday and no one has been arrested nor the police nor the government has information about the killers. Are we gonna persecute another innocent man for these killings, 20 years from now, just to silent him in his causes? Disgusting.

Where art thou, Lady Justice? Are you also being detained by those currently wielding power, illegally?

Diosdado Macapagal has been quoted in a column by Manuel Quezon III, as saying: "The greatness of a ruler lies in his ability to exercise restraint in the use of tremendous power. The essence of a democrat consists of the patience to secure his wishes through the complex machinery of the system of checks and balances which is the indispensable life-blood of the democratic system, and not through the expediency of crushing all opposition. The essential trait of a democracy is not power but responsibility, not authority but duty."

I am more than positive that the late Macapagal is now squirming in shame in his tomb for his daughter had and is still destroying what he had greatly said. Tsk. Tsk.

Whew, four exams down, two more to go!

Well, as of today, it’s now five exams down, one more to go!

And though it ain’t over ’til it’s over, the first year class decided to call it a semester well-studied, well-laughed, and well-bonded, and so we drank to tequila shots and rumcoke, ate endlessly (cheese sticks, tuna sandwich, cookie monster, cookies and cream ice cream, pansit, mani, junk foods, etc, etc), stripped, dived and swammed the night away (except yours truly, and Jason) at Escosa’s. Whew! We are just soo glad to survive the final exam week!

And so today, I ended up waking up late but still managed to catch my fave 8am Mass at Immaculate and slept again after, almost missing my lunch. My head’s a bit drowsy still (though I only had three shots of that ever-glorified tequila) but I am here in my tutee’s apartment, eating jajanngbap and kimchee, just trying hard to make the most of everything.

I mean, it’s summer break and I am certainly going home to my dear-old Bohol! That fact alone can bring me to heavens. But then again, I would like to savor every moment in Dumaguete and drown myself with the sight of acacia trees, the browned VH grounds, the pond at VH and with the taste of every quaint coffe and cake shop in the city. Two months would be spent in my homecity and I wouldn’t call Dumaguete my second home if I won’t miss it in that span of time.

So, back to the final exam thing. I still have a Cyber Law exam on Tuesday but at this very instant, I can now breathe a sigh of relief. I have finished the major ones, i.e, Obligations and Contracts, Special Penal Laws, Criminal Law II and Constitutional Law II. Though the results will be out a month from now, I can still say I am thankful I survived! And even if I made blunders and had been careless in analyzing the cases and in giving my answers in some cases (like I easily jumped to conclusion and convicted the accused of abandonment in Question #10 of Crim II and I forgot about the 50gram requirement for shabu possession for the life imprisonment to death penalty to arise in SPL),  I know I deserve a slap, er, a pat, on my back! Wohoooo, I now declare that I really love my self, ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much.

Well, for a sickly someone like me, it’s a miracle I was not brought to the hospital or a doctor’s clinic in between those days of marathon reading! The thing realy is, I’ve learned my lesson. And I have God in my side. I know, some might find it corny, or going overboard, but, I’d say it here anyway, I would not have survived all the challenges of law school without Him up above.

And of course, there’s my family who has been very supportive from the start. And my friends of course, without whom life would be very boring, I’d collapse out of boredom.

So wish me luck for my Tuesday exam and until then, I could finally say, Thank God it’s over and it’s officially fun for summer!

It’s amazing how a surge of posting and re-posting of a certain message in my Bulletin Board had been done the past days. I know if this happened to other accounts but I am gonna make an intelligent guess that it did, too. It is about an open letter by a certain Harvey S. Keh, a supposed to be Filipino yuppie, who wrote seven circumstances, or shall I say series of unfortunate events, the happening of which would make him leave our dear old country.

For the benefit of those who have not received this open letter yet, posting here his text, in toto:

1.) If former COMELEC Commissioner
Virgilio Garcillano of Hello Garci fame
wins in his bid to become Congressman of
Bukidnon…seeking to replace a good
man no less in incumbent Cong. Neric
Acosta… We would really be the
laughing stock of the whole world if we
allow a man with the reputation of Garci
to be one of our so called "Honorable
Gentlemen".

7.) If Chavit Singson becomes a
Senator, Illegal Gambling =
Chavit… enough said.

Well, these seven unfortunate events would certainly worsen our lives. And I would not blame all those who decide to leave the country for doing so. Afterall, we are all entitled to our own decisions, however intelligent or rotten these may be. I’m not saying however, that leaving the country per se is intelligent, nor is it rotten. It really depends on what you intend to do next. I have always said that leaving the country, completely embracing your new life and choosing to forget the Philippines is the worse crime a Filipino could commit. But then again, let me reiterate that I do not give a damn to those who do just this.

There’s another story however to this Filipino diaspora. If these bright and promising individuals choose to leave the country but promise to return and help in rebuilding our nation thereafter, then, rest assured, my dear Filipinos, that we are headed to the right way. Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that all of our fellow Filipinos in different countries in the world have this plan in their minds.

Leaving our country has been a dominant dream for most of us. Honestly speaking (or should I say, writing), I have always planned to pursue a Master’s program in Environmental Journalism abroad right after graduation. My former Jap professor had been egging me on to apply, and another one who works with the Japanese embassy had been very willing to assist me in my application. But for some stroke of luck, or jinx perhaps, I am still stuck in the City of Gentle People. I can’t think of a plausible reason why but I guess it’s just that I feel like I have not done something grand for our country yet, unlike what Mr. Keh has wrote.

Leaving the Philippines is not bad at all. In fact, the one-year I had spent in AnimeLand has been a moment of awakening and enlightenment for me. By being out of the country, I was able to see it differently, from a different perspective. By being out of the country, I was able to compare it with my host country, and with the other students’ countries. And that made me vow to do something the moment I get back. By seeing how Filipinos were discriminated and by knowing how rotten our system could be, it made me love the Philippines more and that love made me realize that I could make a difference in my own little ways.

Okay, I know I am getting out of topic now. Enough of my personal life. Let’s try to examine what will happen if most of our countrymen continue leaving. We will have the so-called brain drain. We will forever be stuck to where we are now. Brilliant Filipino minds will be making great countries even greater while the Philippines will even sink deeper into the dark pit of economic and political darkness. (Ok, let me be out of topic again. I just have another POV on this. If brain drain continues, it does not necessarily mean that those who are left in our country could not make a difference. In fact, I think this should even pose a challenge to all of us stuck here in the 7,000 or so islands to do something. It’s not as if the people going abroad are the only ones who could think and do something. We just need to dream big and act bigger, as what Senate President Villar said. More on this later though.)

What is the point I am trying to drive at anyway? Well, I am making this humble request to all of you, fellow Filipinos, wherever you may be. Please, please, please don’t cause more Filipinos to leave. Let us use our power to choose wisely so we could make them stay and make them work for the our dear old Philippines, the Philippines which has been called the Pearl of the Orient Seas. Let us vote wisely. Is this too hard to make?

And if we could not make them stay, then, at least, can we entice them back to invest and rebuild our country? Let’s make our country the next Korea and China where all their enlightened individuals came back and contributed to the rebuilding of their respective countries. This is the right time to exercise our power. Afterall, we would not be called a democratic country if sovereignty did not reside in us.

Let us use this power now and make a difference.

Please. Please. Please.

I am a lunatic.

There is just something about the moon that draws me in.

I know the moon is about to shine the fullest when I am extremely happy for no reason at all. I’d go home wondering what kind of ecstatic drug has gotten into my system when I’d suddenly look up and see my dear old friend from above, hanging conveniently in the sky, illuminating the waters beyond the Boulevard and bathing me with its majestic and mysterious shine. And I know where to blame my unexplained happiness: the full moon.

Then, as if in a trance, a magical force would drag me towards the Boulevard, and I would stand there, my eyes fixed on the moon as if an imaginary magnet holds it. I would stare at it until my heart’s content and I would go home relaxed, energized, and inspired. And all those people who happened to see me in this trance would call my madness a severe case of lunacy, if such a term exists.

I don’t know how it started though. All I could remember was that all of my best memories or inspiring moments happen with the moon on the background.

When I was child, my sister and I were allowed to go out at night if a full moon is shining and we could play with our neighbors different kinds of games until our Ates would call us back to the house.

Still a child, but a child at heart to that, I would find my so-called literary inspirations after staring long enough at the moon in my old boarding house’s bamboo windows.

While still connected with the university weekly paper, I would go out from my room in the middle of writing an article and I would, again, stare at the moon, and ideas I have never thought of before but are greatly needed, would come flooding my senses like two million thoughts drowning my mind.

And so I started working and I still kept a special room for the moon in my life. I always enjoyed working late (as in, overtime) so I could walk through our neighborhood guided by the moon, whether a full or a half.

There was also my one-year stint in Sakura Land where Ava and I would endlessly admire the eternal beauty of a lovers’ moon, that is, a quarter one.

In my rarest (and impossible at that!) dream of being a visual artist, I have always wanted to paint a scene near the Silliman hall, wherein a lovers’ moon was solitarily illuminating the seas beyond Silliman and two curved coconut trees interplayed with the magical sight. Ah, romantic.

It was my Irish lit professor, David Burleigh, who lectured that in Western poems, the moon signifies a romance, a love, a strong attraction, a slight hint of erotic desires, or a clandestine affair. In short, the moon speaks about love.

But since I haven’t found my way back into love yet (or I might not find a way back to it anymore), I would like to invent my own theory why the moon possesses a great power towards me, capable of wielding me to its amazing tantalizing power.

Scientifically speaking (hoorah! my Sci Hi teachers would be very happy to know that I finally spoke of science in this blog!), the moon is just an ordinary yet gigantic rock suspended in space. What makes it special is the sunshine, or sunlight, whichever term suits the scientists best, which it is able to reflect back. Is it not amazing?

Somehow, this story of the moon in science books reminds me of life here on earth. Each one of us may look and appear ordinary outside but it is our ability inside that makes us shine. And what makes us extra special is the reflection and illumination we leave everytime we shine.

But one might ask, why is that the moon is always associated with the queer and strange people like the lunatics and eccentrics, the very example I could think right now is Luna Lovegood from the HP series.

My answer is that the lunatics, the queers, and the eccentrics are the ones able to shine best because they fear no one by expressing themselves, without holding back.

Tonight, the moon shines its best. I was going home with Mae from an extended stay in the Law Library (we were making good use of our tuition, afterall) when one of the student assistants pointed at the beauty of the moon. And there she was, Luna, in all her majesty and magnificence, almost kissing the Silliman Hall with her tantalizing, orangey lips. Beneath her the water illuminated, as if to welcome her descent, if she ever has to.

If only I have a working camera now, then I could have just easily taken a snapshot of this tantalizing scene with a quick flash. But unfortunately, I have none. But as Jello had said, all happy memories are best left to the imagination, so no one, and nothing, could ever erase or snatch the same from you.

It is in this belief that I am writing this piece about the moon to remind me of this beautiful night and of my incurable madness towards moonshine. I would have wanted to include a romantic photograph of a full moon but to do so would defeat the purpose of writing the preceeding paragraph.

Last Saturday, I just painted my nails midnight black.

I remembered the Holy Week I turned 18 when I asked my mom if I could wear black nail polish. She was hysterical at the thought. For her, I was too young  to wear anything black. Instead, she let me paint my nails a dark plum.

So it was last Saturday that I fulfilled that five-year longing to have black nails. I just felt like doing it. I was window-shopping in Lee Plaza when I got to the mezzanine section and I found the perfect nail polish in midnight black. And I spent four hours to apply it on, from cleaning to removing the stains in my skin. And I am actually loving every sight of my nails. For no obvious reason at all.

Oh well, for those of you who dig for reasons, let me just give you one. I painted my nails black in celebration and in anticipation of the seventh installment of the HP series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The title itself and the book cover look creepy enough. Huh, I wonder how many characters will die this time…

To all Potter fans, you can now have your reservations in National Bookstore for P1,800. Kind of expensive, huh? Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that it’s worth all the peso. Just a thought though, I think it is less expensive to have your reservations in Powerbooks or FullyBooked, which I do not have access right now since these stores are located in faraway Manila! Argh!

(Photos from www.flickr.com/photos/elizabetht/247436694/ and www.amazon.com)

The morning was a bit frosty but there was a certain warmth in it that filled my almost immovable body. I was comfortably lying in a hammock, slowly swaying to the wind and a hint of of saltwater came with the breeze. I half-opened my eyes and I saw my sister, all a glee in her newly curled locks. She smiled. And I smiled back.

We talked about the weather. And she mentioned about going out rowing in a boat sometime in the afternoon. Yeah, I replied. I missed rowing and being under the sun. I just love this place, away from everything and everyone else, she said, with eyes closed, as if daydreaming.

I could not help but agree with her. I just love to be in the open sea–the sun and the sand touching the very essence of me. I love to feel saltwater in my skin, and the serenity and calmness in my soul. Then, I closed my eyes again and pictured a colorful boat.

Somebody woke me up–one of my younger cousins, a little girl of six or seven. She just had her hair cut, she happily announced. I looked at her. The two-foot long of curly hair was gone! She looked cute and vibrant in her curly hair that stopped just right above her shoulder.

I’d love to have a haircut, I mumbled to myself. I was damn tired of my shoulder-length hair. I missed my short, short hair a few years ago.

Ate, you should have your hair cut, my younger cousin said, as if reading my thoughts. Then, my sister, all aglow in her new look, butted in, and said the same. Remember when we were still her age, she told me, how much you loved going to the beauty salon!

Oh yes, I did. I do remember loving every moment in a salon. I was probably the youngest customer in that salon and the only five-year-old having frequently visited a salon in a month! I just love the sound of scissors and the gentle massages of the beauty stylist. I didn’t care how short my hair was, I always asked my mom to have a haircut.

And for the first time in that day, I opened my eyes wide in excitement, smiling like a five-year-old kid eagerly waiting for a haircut. My sister and my cousin cheered me on.

I got up, took the scissors in my study table and faced the mirror. I got a handful of my bangs and brandished the scissors across.

And I woke up and stared at myself. I had just cut my bangs unevenly.

Bad hair dream equals bad hair day.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

Bandannas and clips to the rescue!

(Blogger’s Note: Pic from www.rosannas.com)

Oh lalala! Summer is definitely here! As if you didn’t know and it ain’t obvious.

With the fierce glare of the sun everyday and the spurting of floral and psychedelic spag-strapped dresses in the department stores, it is hard to miss the coming of the season of bounties and harvests called summertime!

So here’s a toast of lemongrass iced tea (or guanabana shake, if you like) to the season of beaches and escapades, tankinis and bikinis, wet and wild bodies and carefree spirits, rhythmic waves happily crashing to the shore, childish giggles, friendly banters, and family chatters!

Cheers!