Me, My World and A Saturday

I woke up early, watered the plants, caressed my dogs and cats, cleaned the whole house keeping the company of the Bee Gees Collection (some lyrics manifest a premonition… on “how to mend a brocken heart’.)

 Later i drove south near the coastline with my beloved vintage to stand as godmother to the son of an old friend who came home only to have her baby baptized.

My first phoneless day in years.

As i live another experience of a monastic life, i let pass once more a silent day except for my limited responses to those who dared talk to me as i allowed myself to be preoccupaied with the realm of the coming hours. I kept my mind carefree.

Finally, i went home late afternoon after a senseless stay (perhaps to escape moments).  The dean’s message read “sorry, i really feel sorry”. 

A huge disappointment.  It will  definitely gradually sink in my nerves in the days to come.

Only three out of twenty five made it in our class and only one thousand two hundred eighty nine out of five thousand seven hundred ninety nine will affix their signature in the Roll of Attorneys.

Am not one of them.

I can always try, until the fifth time or perhaps until i could fix my logic, or my grammar or my handwriting.  One thing remains, it is a tiresome task that is so difficult to undergo again. There are many options out there though.  Siguro i might consider a nursing or medical course or just become one of the spectators of sunrise and sunset or search na lang ulit for my knight in shining armor, “feel good” once again get married and embrace the domain of domestic life……..hay Marjo ……you and your tangible self.

 When my mortal body cannot comprehend the circumstances of my life, I surrender to writing. I guess i was born to die and rise everyday.  The ones that i hold dear in my heart are the ones that i cannot keep.

 Fr. Jack, my good friend, has kind words for me . .”don’t stop believing in yourself.”

Yes, i wont , as i chase my time. 

Prolonged agony……

 

It’s been restless days…i haven’t started my reports, i could not respond logically, i feel like all my blood is in my brains. The least that i want to be is in a suspended state. But what can i do or who can do something anyway. The waiting period is not over yet. I remember an uncle’s mantra…”don’t believe until it’s in your sight, in your hands.”

I cannot condense my emotions neither could i reconcile my mind. Numerous messages from friends and fellow 2007 examinees signal the approaching promulgation of the verdict yet quiet longing is not moving. Another extended day before the LCD projector at the front yard of the Supreme Court will finally bring down the list of names of blessed souls. I waited for six months anyway. At least the ordeal will be over in a few hours. However, much as i want to ignore, the statistics of bar results for the past five years cannot comfort me.

 “Brave heart, Good heaven, i’l just follow my mother’s words……….. have faith, be strong!

 

 

 

 

 

Defining Moment

I believe more than five thousand Filipinos nationwide are in an expecting mood since the first day of this month not to include other spectators … families, relatives, friends, acquaintances and perhaps apparent foes or simply bystanders, for the release of the result of the one regarded as “the examination of the community.”

Am one of them.

 The last time I could remember I cried immensely while praying was when I beg the Omnipotent to extend the life of my father, although while on review, I sobbed on numerous instances even on simplest situations ….often, for no reason. Last week three of my closest friends in high school which I haven’t communicated for a long time quietly paid a visit in my house. They came to express a good wish and a good hug which i sorely missed and a hopeful future for me in the field that I choose to pursue.  My remaining strength fumbled.
I haven’t confronted my emotions about this matter until today as the result of all my hard work for the past five years will take a final stand anytime soon.

I haven’t fixed the books and other review materials I brought since I came home neither have the courage to open them again…. less those general references I made in relation to my work. I do not want to encounter the same ordeal yet. Brrr all the highlights and underlines, colored pencils and pentel inks… I emailed as well the soft copy I used last year to Erwin, my friend from Butuan City who himself has set another review period even prior to the release of the bar results. ( He made it. abogado na siya)

Maybe, like me, he does not want to set so much expectation for himself for quicker recovery. It still brings comfort. Though nobody knows what’s on the other side.I cannot foretell as well how I would feel whichever will come. Maybe, it will only be like mending a broken heart after a disastrous or a seemingly senseless affair (quite difficult really) or drinking a glass of cold cold water after retreat to a pointless discussion on political remedies to prohibited projects. I will be in a sad and vulnerable state. I’l just close my shell and escape reality for a while. A week or two of bottles, laughters and friends maybe enough… then i’l rise and maybe i’l read again. It is and will always be a wonderful experience after all.

My heart says though that the One has already perfected a plan even before my reasons.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scary Nights

Like a compass searching for the correct direction to anchor, I transferred from one place to another during the prebar review. My first destination is the most notable. I stayed in the 8^th floor of a ten storey building. It was a comfortable place to study, relax, and ponder my preparations for September. Aware that no one from other regions would stay with me in that floor, I settled myself before I took the bus to Manila that I will be on my own in that place for the next six months, and so I thought.

I first checked the fire escape, exit doors, fire extinguisher, hidden cameras (if any, am glad there’s none) the sprinkles (if it’s working) and the kitchen. I bought a flash light, a lighter, and enough batteries, and candles. Sadly there was no trunk line or intercom in the hostel rooms. All offices have different telephone lines i guess. (I didn’t want to know the reason anymore. It is a government property though). Elevator is closed as well during nighttime except for my three requests during my stay. A breast cancer patient from Cagayan de Oro stayed in another room only during day time.

i know i was in a safe place but still i did not last more than three days. I succumbed to my own fragility. I struggled to overcome each night that i think could have endangered or worse end dear life. My cell phone and my old teargas, (am not even sure if t’was still effective that time. i tried it only to a cockroach weeks before) were the company of my pillows. Anything could have happened to me without anybody to turn to the quickest possible time. Nobody could possibly hear me even if i scream the fullest force of my lungs.

The building is crowded during daytime, but I would be the lone occupant when night time comes except for the guards who stay at the ground floor.

It was a very special privilege from my agency that I let go without any regret notwithstanding the amenities i could have enjoyed. Looking back, I can already laugh but still with hollow blocks in my chest each moment i think of each tick of the clock i counted until the next morning comes and each step i imagined coming near me in the middle of the night. I shared it to my friends, they could only laugh as well. Same question… how did I manage it. Another stubborn decision which I thought I could easily carry.

Sometimes, struggle for self reliance and autonomy has a price.

It may only be three but they are the weirdiest, scariest, creepiest nights so far that could last a long time in my memory.

Tia Meng (August 17, 2007)

Am sharing a room with an eighty one year old lady since I transferred here in Paco a couple of weeks ago. I have been enjoying meals and sleeping time with all her sharing of intricate yet colorful stories from the time of Japanese occupation in the Philippines until she traveled and lived in Japan for a long time to be with her daughter who is married to a Japanese national (that would be more or less sixty years).

It could have been dull moments between law books and anxiety while preparing for the bar exams if not for her comic experiences.

She is fondly called Tia Meng. She does household chores for her nephew. She was expecting to do service for me too, as manifested by her actions (which she need not do) when I first dropped my traveling bar. She prepared the study table, arranged the room in accordance with what she perceived to be my taste as manifested by her decorations and provided enough space for my things and my sleeping area including the pillow case and the mattress (even she knows I have my own) which must have been finely selected and kept to be used only during special occasions.. During meal time she would knock at my door gently to tell me that the table is ready… so ready that there is already rice in my plate.

I felt so humbled and so loved in as much as I have always been an uncompromising person who dislikes attachment especially during difficult times. I yield to the ways of keeping.

She could have been one of those I leave behind to eat the dust when I feel uncomfortable with lousy and cheap stories about material things, fanaticism of doctrinal dogmas and make believe fantasies but I stuck on when she showed me her worldly possessions… all are gifts from the people she loves most… her daughters. She did not show me anything she bought for herself from her earnings. All she proudly displayed was an embroidered pillow case she painstakingly created herself bearing the names of her two daughters with the symbol of a heart in between. I asked her where they are now and why she is living and spending her energy with a different family. She calmly answered “they already have their own family”.

“Children are more properly seen as their mother’s creations, rather than their fathers. It is also because, more than anyone else, it is mothers who gaze at the faces of their young in total contemplation and prayerful hopefulness”, is an excerpt from Randy David’s essay on Mothers which could be the most intimate rationale I could find why Nanay Meng despite physical separation from her daughters sends a message of compassion that resonates even in the hardest heart of a stranger.

“I don’t want you to serve me nanay, I am stronger than you”, I told her many times with a powerful force in my voice. And so I did. I cooked my own recipes.. and she liked them. I wouldn’t allow her to wash the utensils I used except on certain circumstances. I wanted her to feel comfortable and free during my stay at least… and so she became.

I do not intend to fill some vacuum despite that it is what I feel with what she is doing with me, or to appease the conscience or be saved and go to heaven by doing some charitable work. I only do not succumb to the idea of replacing the strength and power of another being by making it appear that I can do it for them. Of course I can, but I will not because of my strong belief that each have his or her own way and purpose to accomplish that should not be subjugated in the form of  more positive words—charity, kindness, piety.

But I could not stay long. My time is not mine to keep. I have to move on, and so she must too. But where? She is eighty one years old.

I write this line with a sad heart… I might not see her again… I have to convince myself … it is still eighty one fruitful years.

 

 

 

 

Fifty more days. . .

It always feels good to talk with someone who shares the same ordeal. Am referring to my encounter with my classmate this afternoon.  Expressing the same excitement to update what has been, he said if he didn’t make it, it will be the end of the line for him. Never again. The best response i thought of is to be subtle and  silent just to send the message that I understand what’s going on. I cannot invade the end of his mind.  Only those who took it from the heart could appreciate the emotional and psychological setback of the bar exams.

The  dean of our law school once shared that if there’s one experience she wouldn’t want to repeat, it is the agony before and after taking the bar examinations. And so she didn’t. She is now a lawyer. I want to say the same lines, but I could not. Am still in the state of wanting to exorcise that experience out of my system which is taking my nerves up side down each moment.

Many times I desire to submerge down to my deepest haven in all the days to come before the judgment. My mind often refuses to get out of my comfortable shell to evade another encounter with questions, speculations and expectations am so scared to answer nor entertain. They say that I made it…. I say oh god I could only wish..

He said fifty more days to go. . .

I dwell to quiet longing.

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the agony of waiting….

it’s been more than a month since the last sound of the drum that manifests the end of the bar exams. but the agony of waiting has just begun and the endless hope and emotional struggle made it so fearsome. I’l try harder to keep myself busy though….I feel ashame to ask my god for a favor but i am in the state of helplessness upon which the control of my fate lies only between my examiner and my god now. am already excluded. i accept that the very moment i passed my exam booklet, i have let go of my fate in the hands of another. i only pray my god will Sharpen the mind of the examiner and make my exam more bearable for him or her during the checking. Thy will be done.