A LAWYER’S CHANGE OF HEART

By Atty. Janina Salazar Fernando

 

“Ayan, may puso ka na!” CESS told me. A curve on her lips manifested and later developed into laughter. I was pleased.

 

“Yehey, may puso na ‘ko!” I was kilig. My eyes glittered. I kept the smile on my face for a few seconds and stared at the monitor. May puso na ako, I whispered to myself. My existing smile grew an inch.  

 

CESS uttered it when I submitted the final draft of a Motion for Reconsideration I was working on. The day before that, I gave her my first draft. She came into my room and handed me back the pleading with her revisions. She explained the notes spilled all over the pages of my draft.

 

Her opinion always matters to me. I respect her in so many ways. I didn’t want to appear mediocre in her eyes. That is why when she turned to face me again, after having taken a few steps toward the door, I froze. I knew the conversation wasn’t over.

 

“From reading your pleading, I noticed walang passion. You were sort of detached.” She said it with such sincerity and patience.

 

Embarrassed, I bobbed my head, “Yes, ma’am. I am. Halata pala?”

 

It was obvious that something more had to be said.

 

“Alam ko you don’t want to be a lawyer, pero nandito ka na. Lagyan mo naman ng konting,” pausing in search for an accurate word, “puso.”

 

She was laughing but I can feel that it was meant to hit a spot. I smiled until it hurt.

 

“It looks like a research paper. Your arguments are okay. Pero parang wala kang sympathy for the client. And it shows in your pleadings. You’re supposed to be an advocate. You should be a little more sympathetic.”

 

My head was still bobbing. I stared with wide wondering eyes. She was absolutely right.

 

She said it was normal for a young lawyer to struggle. Then she told me what she does when writing her own pleadings. She said since my research was all done, I should stay away from my draft for a day - allow the passion to brew overnight. Then, start writing again. So I set the pleading aside and went out for dinner.

 

I have to come clean. It was beyond dispute, and I made it known the moment I passed the 2007 Bar Examinations. Every inch of my body resisted the idea of becoming a slave to law. Yet, I always knew it’s inevitable.

 

“You have to follow the footsteps of your parents,” I heard over and over as a kid. I eventually gave up dreaming my own dreams and gave in to theirs. At 11 years old, I found myself asking my parents at the dinner table what a petition for certiorari was. My mom gave me a “grave abuse of discretion” verbatim explanation, as if talking to a freshman law student. Pretending to understand, I chewed on a pork chop tidbit I put in my mouth.

 

I was doomed to be a lawyer. The arrival of my law school application form confirmed it. I filled it up. I took the entrance exam. Next thing I knew, I was lining up to pay for my freshman tuition - the commencement of my ultimate sacrifice.

 

Law school can be an emotional, mental, and physical roller coaster ride for an average 19-year old. These were my years of tears. It was, for most of the time, plain hell. I was never an honor student. All I had was a name to live up to.

 

When I decided to quit during my junior year, all I could think of was this: Another day spent in campus and my sanity would give up on me. So I took a leave.

 

But I returned. I came back focused. At the age of 24, I took the 2007 Bar and passed on my first attempt. It’s inevitable. Failure was never an option.

 

One might wonder why I subjected myself to torture when I could have taken a different path. Well, I did it out of fear.

 

My greatest fear is failure. Failure as a law student, as a lawyer, and essentially, as a daughter. Becoming a lawyer is the only way I know how not to fail as a daughter. It was the least I can do. My parents gave me everything I needed and wanted that was within our means. Just like them, I’m more than willing to give up everything for my family.

 

My parents’ shoes, however, are too big to fill. It’s even harder walking around wearing them. Both of them serve our country as members of the judiciary. The dilemma was that when people asked how it felt to be a lawyer, my eyes start welling up and I end up screaming, “Ayoko nang maging abugado! Hindi ito para sa ‘kin!” Imagine the shock (or pain) on my parents’ faces the first time they heard me say that in front of their friends.

 

All throughout my 26-year existence, I try to act in accordance with what was expected of the eldest child and only daughter so they will never be disappointed. Strength was a mandatory attribute. My fear was never apparent to a stranger’s eye.

 

Nevertheless, I refuse to be unhappy. Acceptance is the key, I tell myself everyday.

 

Misery made me numb. I have come to accept that lawyering will always be part of who I am. It was logical to acknowledge that, at least.

 

From acceptance, circumstances improved. Blessed with mentors like ACP and CLC, the partners in the firm who actively helped me fight the urge to surrender, the days became tolerable. When I find real reasons to keep up the fight - like the “may puso ka na” comment from CESS - I stop resisting.

 

It doesn’t hurt so much now to face each day, such that when my friends see me and ask, “Attorney! Kumusta sa work?” I can smile and say, “Okay naman. Steady.” And it wouldn’t have to be a lie. 

 

When inspiration attempts to subsist with the practice of law, I allow it. Then Wilson Philips starts singing in my head, “Someday somebody’s gonna make you wanna turn around and say goodbye. Until then, baby, are you gonna let them hold you down and make you cry? Don’t you know things will change. Things will go your way. If you hold on for one more day, things will go your way.”

 

Primarily, I hope for passion to resurrect. I have a strong suspicion that the law school violently murdered it. I want to be a hot, young lawyer – a phrase that will only apply for a couple more years. Eventually, I can only try to qualify as a hot lawyer. But, for that representation to be accurate, I must also prove that I am worthy of being called a lawyer. 

 

That morning, I started reviewing the pleading I thought was finished. What initially began as a sentence developed into a paragraph. I had doubts on the acceptability of the final draft. But I was trying to give it a little heart. I sighed at the mush that yielded the celebrated comment.

 

“Ayan, may puso ka na!” Her words played in my head all day.

 

The resistance notwithstanding, I do have a heart. It used to be broken.

http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/inquirerheadlines/nation/view/20080907-159161/Accidental-lawyer-finds-true-path-to-her-soul

Accidental lawyer finds true path to her soul

 

By Anna Patricia R. del Castillo
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 01:55:00 09/07/2008

 

(The author took the bar exams for the second time in September 2007. She wrote this article right after she took her oath last April. But the Inquirer timed its publication for the bar exams taken during the four Sundays in September (the first one starts today). We are running the article with the 2008 bar examinees in mind and in memory of the lawyer who excitedly found the road less taken. Atty. Del Castillo died on June 21.)

MANILA, Philippines—In the Philippines, when you say you’re a lawyer, people react in different ways. You sometimes get respect or deference, sometimes a bit of awe. There are of course those who treat you with suspicion, or even hate. Remember that most popular of all Shakespearean quotations? “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” (Henry VI, Part II, Act IV)

What’s all this about being a lawyer anyway? Is it your entrance ticket into a world of men bound by rules, codes, laws and statutes? In real life, lawyering means entering into a vast network that includes business, entertainment, technology, environment and practically everything else. A lawyer must become that proverbial jack-of-all-trades. Except that a lawyer must be master of one thing. He or she must know “the rules” or “the laws” that bind us together as a community, as an organization, as a society.

This is a tough job requiring years of preparation. First, as a law student, when you have to read and comprehend a multitude of laws and cases, and then learn to analyze them. After law school, you must learn to apply them to the real world, the world outside the law school library or the study room.

But first, you must pass the bar exams. The bar is the one test that you must pass to join that elite club of people who append “Attorney” to their names. It’s a test the republic requires to ensure that an officer of the court we call a “lawyer” or an “attorney” has indeed studied the law for years, and is capable of representing the interest of other people usually referred to as “clients.”

Like a doctor, the lawyer holds lives and livelihoods in his hands. You can’t let just anyone do this kind of work without first testing him to find out whether or not he really knows what he is doing. Thus we have the bar, a series of gruelling tests taken during the four successive Sundays of September.

A typical bar Sunday consists of a seven-hour exam with a two-hour break for lunch. You are made to answer mostly essay-type questions, although multiple-choice questions may also be included.

One can’t take the bar exams without first going to law school. To get into law school, you are required to have finished an undergraduate course; that serves as your pre-law course. Your undergraduate degree must have the prescribed units in the social sciences, languages, philosophy, among others. After that comes the four years in an accredited law school and then the law diploma. Then you prepare for the bar. Other eligibility requirements include certifications attesting to one’s good moral character, and of not having been charged or convicted of any crime.

Armed with the required degrees and other eligibility requirements, you then embark on an unimaginable number of hours of reading and preparing for the test itself. If you are not dedicated to the law, or at least interested in it, passing the bar might be one big and difficult hurdle.

That is what happened to me.

I studied law with apathy and nonchalance. In college, I acted as if it was not the beginning of my real “life” as an adult, or that it would spell out my future. Of course, I know better now. But in those days, I was just into partying, partying and partying.

The only reason I took up law was because both my parents are lawyers. I took up political science in college as a pre-law course. I had a little interest in the law in the beginning, but the path towards fulfilling my dreams through being a lawyer was not that clear.

In hindsight, I see now that to go into law, you need a well-defined, clear-cut desire to do so. You have to want it passionately. Eight years ago there weren’t any interactive websites where you could research and choose your course from any educational institution. As I found out, there isn’t enough time and there aren’t enough resources in the world to help you find that perfect course. After college, I took up law in one of the finest law schools there is, the one where my parents also obtained their law degrees.

A born crammer

My basic attitude didn’t really change that much in law school. I went out a lot hanging out with friends on so-called “gimmicks.” But of course, I had to work hard, working myself to death during exam time. I also had to put it together, just enough to make it through the “roasts” (or those “massacre recitations”).

Six months after graduation from law school, I took the bar. Being a born crammer, I knew I had to be serious and work like crazy all those six short months. I asked around and the usual schedule was to read at least a hundred pages a day, which meant at least 10 hours of reading and listening to review lectures daily. I did all these. But when the bar results came out, my name wasn’t on the list. I was devastated.

People who cram and get by start to think that they’re smarter than others. I was one of them. When I flunked the bar, I realized I wasn’t that smart after all. Working yourself to death for six months wasn’t enough. I realized I had wasted eight years of my life.

Flunking the bar made me see there was no clear path in my life. My future suddenly became hazy and uncertain, and I seemed to be starting anew on an uncharted path. I was faced with many questions. Should I continue studying and take the bar again? Should I just begin a new career path, a whole new life where I would be in charge?

I began to understand the meaning of failure and hardship and of destiny—the role that we play in our own lives, and the role of God in it. God gives us all the freedom we want, but there’s also responsibility that goes with it. If I did take the road to a new career path, the older, wiser and tougher me knew I would be faced with many new challenges and possibilities of failure as well. It was a scary thought, but it was also exciting.

Allergic to failure

However, I couldn’t resist a second try at the bar exams. First of all, I had all this knowledge and facts swimming around my head from taking the bar exams. Second, I knew that being allowed to take the bar again would be some sort of blessing. I already had the advantage over the others since I would have studied twice, thrice, or even four or five times more than those taking it for the first time. Third and most important of all, I was “allergic” to failure, and I knew I had to redeem myself by passing the second time around. So I took the bar again.

I studied like mad. The rest of the world faded away, and there was just me and my books. Officially, I wasn’t a crammer anymore since I had studied most of this stuff the first time around. I tried to understand every book I read, and prayed hard that I would remember what I read and retain the knowledge. Somewhere along the way, I began to find myself.

One day, while studying till the wee hours, I suddenly began to cry. It was self-pity, and the realization that I had never worked so hard in my life. Studying for the bar is the toughest thing a person can do because it takes over your whole life and requires all your concentration, energy and patience. It makes you forego any other desire for months, deny yourself all pastimes, hobbies and recreation, and abandon all meaningful relationships. It requires everything that you can give, and more.

When I say I found myself, I mean, it was as if I went around the world, across the universe, and found myself back home, with myself, with my soul. It was the inner me that could not be defined by my likes or dislikes, or those cliché definitions of the meaning of love that one reads in a Hallmark greeting card on Valentine’s Day.

That almost superhuman effort of preparing for the bar exams the second time around made me find my real self. Despite the fact that I had almost no interaction with other people for months, this me that I found was the me-alone, and also the me-in-relation to others. A philosopher might call it “the existential me.”

‘Forever me’

When I found myself, there was no turning back, no return slips for defective goods, “no return, no exchange.” I found the “forever-me.”

D-Day finally came. Since I didn’t pass the first time, my confidence was shaky and my composure precarious. I held it together and answered fast and concisely, wrote legibly, and prayed as I never prayed before in my entire life.

After the exams, it was difficult to determine whether I would pass or not. The bar is like that—so uncertain, so many possible answers, and only one correct answer. I waited six long months. Finally, the results were released. My classmates and friends found out before I did. It was moving how they seemed more ecstatic and more excited than I was.

If passing the first time was like one long congratulatory party, passing the second time was a big sigh of relief. It is reclaiming your confidence, trusting yourself again, and finally, believing that all this was meant to happen. It meant getting on the right path again and finding your friends and loved ones still there. It’s finding your life again waiting for you.

One with my soul

Everyone says later that it was meant to happen. But do I really believe that? It does mean that I had a lot more to learn before getting to where I am now. All the reasons and the confluence of events, all the whys and wherefores of Robert Frost’s road less taken would eventually reveal itself in time.

For me, I guess I had to grow up and be one with my soul, that almost mythical rite of passage we thought we only read in great literature, but which is part of everyone’s life. What happened to that teenage girl who only thought about what to wear and which party to go to? She realized that life is all about choices. Now it’s which book to read, how to schedule her activities for the day. Still the same giggly immature girl, but now in her 20s, and somehow different in many respects.

At last I discovered that being a lawyer was my true path although at the start I was just going with the flow, like floating downstream in a river. When I finally began to find myself, I related to and understood the world more. In a way I became more caring but also more responsible and emphatic in my views.

I also saw the need to help people, and I realized how being a lawyer is one of the better paths to do that. I could volunteer in nongovernment organizations to help the poor, preserve the environment, defend the rights of orphans and abused women.

Government work was also another option open to me as a lawyer. I could promote policies that could help people and preserve those places on earth where the environment has been abused. And even in private practice, I could handle cases and contribute directly to improve the lives of my clients.

I do realize now that being a lawyer creates a peculiar and unique sense of power and responsibility that I wouldn’t have had in any other career. It’s really the beginning of a new life. Now that I’m a lawyer, I want to express a very special thanks to my parents. I also want to thank everyone who helped me along the way. I could never imagine I would be so excited to embark on this new voyage, to begin my life again and change the world.

Copyright 2008 Philippine Daily Inquirer. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

I woke up this morning with a prayer for Christmas. It was something I have wanted so bad for so long. In exchange for this, I offered a sacrifice — 100 days without coffee, rice and alcohol.

I thought about it for a moment, "Kaya ko kaya yun?"

For this one thing, I figured it won’t be too much. These three things comprise my daily essentials. I was able to survive 47 coffee-less and chocolate-less days for my Lenten sacrifice this year. I got my wish. I passed the 2007 Bar Exams and was part of the top 5% of the nationwide passing percentage. I’m sure 100 days won’t be too difficult.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The afternoon passed…it seemed longer than usual.

At four o’clock, my brain was starting to hurt. The throbbing was quite manifest.

I reassessed the reasonableness of my prayer vis a vis my Christmas sacrifice. And I came to a very bright conclusion: This thing that I was praying for is NOT WORTH losing my coffee!!!

I marched toward’s Charity’s room and asked, "Cha, nag-kape ka na?"

"Kaninang umaga…"

"Gusto mong mag-kape? Kung papayag ka, i-bbreak ko na ang sacrifice ko!"

Without waiting for my sentence to actually finish, she blurted out the magic word, "Sige."

And with her assent, I gave up on my sacrifice on the FIRST freakin’ day! Hahaha.

I guess coffee is more important than this thing I claimed to have wanted for a long time. I must not want it THAT BAD. Otherwise, I would have ordered green tea instead of my Tall Latte (with 2 shots of espresso)!

Maybe I’ll try again next year — if I still want it. I might just wait for it to fall down from heaven and plop on my lap. If it doesn’t come, at least I had my coffee (and cake to go with it, too)!

Thanks to Cha’s equally indispensable need for daily doses of caffeine, I realized that there are some things that are worth waiting for.

Mara Calilung died today. At seventeen years old, gone. We came from the same high school and the same dance troupe. She’s my niece’s best friend. She died of pneumonia. Last night, I was told she was in the ICU of St. Luke’s Hospital, and that she was stable. I was relieved. This morning, I woke up to a text message from my friend Andrew saying, "asa heaven na si mara." It’s sad — I’m sad. I can’t believe someone so young, beautiful, talented and kind could leave this world so soon. She has the potential to be a good grown-up, I think. I received the text message at 7:34 AM. I started praying. I went back to sleep. I tried, at least. Then it dawned on me: life is too short. Too short, indeed.

I was actually thinking about my life the past few days. I was in a crisis. I regret how I spent my years trying to do what I was told or what was expected of me by my family and the world I was thrown into; how I lost sight of what I really wanted; how I set aside passion for legal education; how I let fear and desire impede my actions and control my reactions. Fear of failure, fear of judgment, fear of becoming a disappointment and the desire to meet the expectations laid before me since childhood. These factors led me to become a safe player. Eventually, the existing expectations were met and new ones surfaced. And the cycle continues: fear and desire again come into play. It might never end unless I acknowledge its occurence.

At first I thought I was just bored with the monotony of it all. Nothing really happens to me. At least, nothing spectacular or amazing. Even the occasional highlights were short-lived. Everything is routinary. There is a scarcity for sources of inspiration.  I find myself daydreaming about how it could have been if I gave in to art/business/travel instead of law. The bubble bursts when this question pops up: Will I be able to afford it? The reality is that had I not been able to finish law, I would not be able to get employed in this firm (which is actually the only firm I can see myself in) and eventually afford to live my own dreams. Sabi nila libre lang ang mangarap. Pero hanggang pangarap na lang ba?  Maybe I should do something about it. Because life is too short. Too short, indeed.

I’m not saying I don’t want to be a lawyer. Not yet. It’s too early to get disillusioned with the profession. I would like to believe that there is more to the practice than just being a bandage to someone else’s wound. I am currently standing on the border separating youth from responsibility. I want to feel young - because I am young. Having entered the Law School at the age of 19, I was forced to grow old too fast. While most kids my age at that time were dealing with juvenile issues,  I had to find legal issues in Oposa vs. Factoran, etc.  I want to finally experience how it feels like to enjoy life and maybe do what I should be doing (once I figure out what that is) before it’s too late, and I’m stuck in mediocre-mode. I don’t want to be all wrinkly and pruney when I finally realize the significance of my existence.  I want to know what I want and know how to get it. I want to be inspired. So that when I’m all wrinkly and pruney, I could honestly say that I lived. Because life is too short. Too short, indeed.

Mara lived a beautiful life. She danced like nobody’s watching. She sang so well, Magic Sing nights could very well be endless. She was a good daughter to her parents, a good friend to my niece. At seventeen years old, she was happy. She was loved. Her life was short, but it was well-spent.  May her spirit soar in the peaceful and loving arms of the Father. May her soul rest in peace.

The best day in Boracay was probably Sunday. It was a beautiful
morning. Mike and I, as usual, head out to our favorite spot - the
vacant lot between Stations 1 and 2. I watched the local children play
in the water. The innocence in their faces captured my interest.

Moments later, I found myself in the water, splashing around with the
kids. The company they offered was comforting. The conversations were
memorable and heartwarming/heartbreaking.

"Nag-aaral ka ba?" I asked Bernie, seven years old. We were trying to build a sand castle.

He replied, almost boastful, "Graduate na ‘ko! Tapos na akong mag-aral!"

"Ha? Graduate ka na?"

"Oo, tapos na ako ng kinder! Si Annamarie, daycare na sya!"

None of them actually experienced going to elementary school. I turned to Annamarie and asked her, "Nag-aaral ka pa ba?"

She said, "Hindi na po. Tumigil na po ako."

"Bakit naman?"

"Wala na po kasi kaming pang-gastos." She looked down on the wet sand
as she was talking. I can feel her sadness.  I didn’t want the
conversation to go on - my heart was crumbling as we spoke.

So I asked her, "Hindi pa ba kayo hinahanap sa bahay nyo? Tanghali na. Hindi pa ba kayo magtatanghalian?"

She looked at me and maybe wondered what "tanghalian" meant. Then she said, "Nag-almusal na po kami eh."

I felt helpless. Hearing their stories and not being able to do
anything about it sucks. So I invited her to play with me again in the
water and everything was fun again.

When I got tired, I went back to my spot and lied on my back. I was
trying to sleep when I noticed that Bernie followed me to the shore and
lied on his tummy. He was staring curiously at me.  During our playtime
earlier, he kept asking me questions like, "Tomboy ka ba?", "May anak
ka na ba?" and "Ilang taon ka na?" And I found them all silly and
answered them all with no offense taken. After all, he was only seven
years old.

"Balik ka muna doon. Maglaro muna kayo. Matutulog muna ako," I told him. He kept staring.

"Dito muna ako."

"Sige." And I closed my eyes.

What broke the silence was this question, "Nasaktan ka ba sa lalaki?"

I jumped up in amazement. Where did this seven year old kid get this
idea? I didn’t know whether to answer it seriously or treat it like one
of his funny interrogatories.

"Anong sabi mo?" I thought I was hearing the wrong words. But Mike
heard it, too. He stuttered as he reiterated the question. Mike and I
laughed for a bit. Enjoying the innocence of it all. It was confirmed.
My cynicism has become apparent even to a seven year old child. He left
me without hearing my answer. I was relieved. I didn’t want to dwell on
it. I looked for his face among the small crowd of children swimming in
the water but I couldn’t find him anymore. I might have embarrassed
him.

Mike and I decided to head back to Station 2 for lunch. And that was
the last time I saw Bernie, the cutest and most curious kid in Boracay.
I am looking forward to more of this kind of experience - hearing what
children have to say, hoping one day I can finally do something to
change the world, changing lives, one kid at a time.

It’s noticeable. I’m so kilig. Clara sensed the difference in the tone of my voice as I was telling her about how I spent Saturday night. I had the time of my life. Shed a lot of inhibitions, just enough for me to respect myself in the morning. Hahaha. I’m still your typical promdi girl despite the Makati lifestyle. I can’t speak fluent Kapampangan, but my heart must always be close to home.

Gme and I haven’t been spending time at home lately, so we haven’t had the chance to swap stories until tonight. We were both so kilig. Parang flashback. High school all over again! Hahaha. Can’t believe I went out with my long time crush. Good thing he doesn’t have friendster — and we don’t have common friends!

I’ve never been this giddy and infatuated! Until last Saturday, I can’t even remember how it feels like for someone to hold my hand. Heck, I can’t even remember the last time someone held my hand. I know it won’t last longer than a week or two. I don’t really mind. What’s important is that I’m back to happy. It’s fun to be young again. Any progress/development with this guy is just a bonus.

Right now, I’m excited about Boracay with Anabanana! It’ll be my first time in Bora. I’m taking baby steps to being normal, remember? So now, I can take out of town trips and go abroad without my parents! Late bloomer eh! Okay lang. Lawyer naman. Hahaha. Shet. Finally.

Back to infatuated. Yes, I’m infatuated. You will never know with whom. Deal with it. I can’t even wipe the smile off my face that’s been there all day.

My talent for writing has officially diminished as I couldn’t find the right combination of words to draw a picture of giddy and infatuated. All I know is I am —

giddy and infatuated. ;p

I never thought my short visit to Japan would prove to be the best seven days of my 25 year existence. I was a bit reluctant at first. But after one day, I fell in love with the place. It was one of the most beautiful places my eyes have ever laid upon. My Chucks are worn out from walking all over the area.

I also realized that it’s not just the sights that made the whole trip worthwhile. It was also the company, the people with whom I shared it with. My busmates, my roomate, and the people I met, all made my first parentless trip abroad a memorable one.

Will blog about it more later.

See the pictures on facebook! :) 

She speaks as if she’s perfect – he never disagrees.
The absurdity of her actions seeps into his void with a transcending grief.
He tolerates the anguish for he loves her deeply.
And though he cries himself to sleep, he never left her side.
Senselessly enamored to his cause of dejection.
His dreary sighs are inaudible – yet lingering and present.
He keeps them to himself.

Law School, Closure, and Happiness

By Janina S. Fernando

Have you ever watched someone slip away without you knowing why? It sucks. Not knowing, I mean.

People come and go. It’s a given. But when someone who’s become part of your life walks out of it, leaving you without a clue, it creates a void inside you. Denying it doesn’t make any difference because no matter how many friends you try to convince that you really don’t need closure, you can’t fool yourself. You only get bitter, if not still hopeful.

The dilemma arises when the situation is beyond your control, such as the physical impossibility or the utter lack of concern from the other. How do you deal with that? When legal and emotional issues concur within a particular time frame, one can only pray for endurance and maybe, a little luck that he or she may be spared from being called for recitation. And although it is healthy to ask for closure from that someone, it is not always the available option.

Frankly, in this wonderful world of the study of law, emotional balance is a mere idea, imbalance being the hottest craze. We sort of assumed the risk of becoming a little less human for at least four years. As students in the Law School, we tend to “compartmentalize” issues, categorize and prioritize so as not to impede academic productivity. So we set aside matters personal in nature in hopes of a better grade - or a passing one, at least. And maybe, if we turn numb, the pain will go away and the void might get filled up with the doctrines and provisions we stuff our brains with.

Cheesy as it may seem, however, the heart cannot be subject to the writ of mandamus issued by the brain. You continue to bear the burden, although you try to postpone having to deal with it. The pain becomes dormant just until your schedule allows you to be all mushy and sentimental again.

My friend, Freedom, once told me, “Pretend that you’re happy, and one day you’ll realize that you are no longer pretending.” At first, it seemed so superficial to act as if you’re not hurting. I was thinking that if I do, it might eat me up inside or make me miserable. But did miracles- pretending and, eventually, forgetting. I was happy. Happier, even.

It works for some of us, I suppose. For self-preservation. Others just need to face the problem head-on. Right here, right now. After a few semesters, we learn through experience and determine which emotional strategy will make us better law students. Happiness comes in a different shape here in the Law School. It is not always apparent, but it does exist.

It lies in the spaces between midterms and the day when recitation actually starts to stress you out again. It applies in the moments you share with block mates (a.k.a. those who are similarly situated) getting drunk, loud, and wasted. And you learn to appreciate (or laugh at) those unforgettable episodes that take place on the rare occasions you can afford to lose yourselves. It creeps up during our worst, when we’re not inclined to see, when we’re too busy sulking over 75’s and 68’s. But it’s most likely to be there - waiting to be found. Probably just staring right back at us. It exists between the tears in our eyes, sits on the curve of our lips, manifests in the friendships we gain and heard in the laughter we share.

I have always believed happiness to be something that everybody is entitled to. Law School shouldn’t be a hindrance. One only becomes unhappy when he deprives himself/herself and others the freedom to hope for a better day.

As for closure, whether you sit and wait for it or grab it by the balls, it’s just an option. When we grow up, we realize that you don’t really need to know the what-ifs and the whys anymore; that what is so special about tomorrow is that we never know what it brings; that whether it’s good or bad, there is always a reason to hope and that it is only hopeless if you give up on it.

Exactly 20 days from now, my so-called life as a bum shall turn from endangered to extinct.

I am now sitting at the end of Tin delos Reyes’ dining table, in her newly acquired [leased] condo, initially intending to finish my brother’s legal reseach paper on election fraud only to end up appropriating her internet card for my personal consumption.

Life after the bar is something alien to me. As most of my avid blogfans know, my daily routine consisted of coffee, highlighters, hundreds of pages of law and jurisprudence, coffee [again], and the occasional booze. My waking up every freakin’ day has a definite purpose — to study til my brain cells threaten an instant meltdown. Most of my friends consider me so "baduy" for ditching gimmicks only to bury my face in books and stain my hands with ink from my pen.

The Monday immediately after the last Sunday of the Bar was mind-boggling. Never in my life as a law student had I imagined that a day will come that the urgency of dragging myself out of bed would be the least of my concerns. It was so weird! Adjusting to this new-found life of non-nerdism took a little more effort from me. Gimmick was not something new to me, but it wasn’t a weekly or even a monthly thing for me. Usually, I go out when friends celebrate birthdays, or when the Law School holds parties and events. But after around two weeks, I was craving for more of the crowded-dancefloor-loud-music-eye-stinging-smoke-and-alcohol fusion of intoxication. in short, I am officially having fun.

I HONESTLY DON’T WANT TO WORK JUST YET! Boring Thursday night has just started to transform into an "Official Poker NIght". Me and Ruby are beginning to take interest in tagging along Gme’s clickthecity.com events.  Cuisine at the Fort has slightly become part of my definition of a good time. Wow. I’m evolving into a normal person! Hahaha.

Pero okay lang. Christmas is in the air. Meaning, mahaba na naman ang pila sa gate namin! I need moolah to finance the long list of gifts for family and friends. Another thing is, my demand letters from inaanaks are piling up. Hahaha.  I have a new inaanak. Seb. Chucky’s kid. I’m crazy about him! =)

So, there. I have to enjoy what’s left of my "break" just so I can say that I really did. I never got to go out of town with my friends. As if my parents would let me. Pero I’m still hoping that something will happen over the next 20 days of my so-called existence that I can unequivocally and definitely call memorable — in a positive way.

PS: I’d like to thank my sponsor TIn for the internet card I’m using now. Hahaha. ;p