love me like a sunday

i think i’ve lost it.

my fingers used to fly. the clickity-clack of the keys making a rhythm as my hands try to keep up with my thoughts. my sentiments and emotions had words that aptly explained what i meant without needing to press shift+f7.

i  didn’t need to down a glass of wine, light an aroma candle, or strip down to my bare undies to get into the mood. i didn’t need much ruminating or a life-altering experience to have reason to do it. i used to just do it because i felt like–and could–do it.

i wonder, is it because i lack practice? or is it because i’ve run out of experiences? my days seem so structured there’s no time for spontaneity or adventure. or, is it rather that i thirst no more for spontaneity or adventure?

but how i still love the written word. and how i would love to still to be able to just sit, think, feel, and write.

for the first time in my life, i am a bum.

since nursery until about three days ago, i’ve been constantly working or studying or working and studying. i’ve always wondered how it was to not do anything. to not worry about deadlines or unfinished drafts or irate bosses. to just watch a movie a day, get a massage, and see my stylist. to have no care about the time or its consequences.

nakaka-bore pala.

i was uploading photos to my page and i saw a picture taken of us before christmas last year. it was nothing extraordinary. a quick photo while we were devouring some ok chinese food.

we met when we were still very young, but i never took notice of him. i knew, from the rumors and the jokes, that he, at that young age, had already taken an interest in me.  but it never blossomed into anything substantial. not even friendship.

gradeschool and highschool went by. i had my share of boyfriends, he had his own romantic "links" with other girls.  by senior year, he was pursuing someone else (i learned afterwards) while i was going steady with my first serious boyfriend.

i never did give much thought to him after high school. he was one of those that i was just civil with, never really friendly.

we did see each other during college. but, as usual, no connection was made.  it was over drinks, celebrating our birthdays. i remember i had a short conversation with him that night. i asked if he was with someone, just a question without any intentions. he said he’s been with a girl for quite a while already.

after that one conversation, i never heard from him again.  i went to law school and, i heard, he joined the workforce. we went through the motions, unaware of what lies ahead for us.

i saw him again after seven years or so.  i was having dinner with some girlfriends when one of them thought of this wonderful idea to call him and invite him over. although at that time i was against it, thinking i don’t know.  but, today, i thank her for doing so.

he changed — physically was what i first noticed.  he had a manly way about him that i never saw before. when he spoke, he was different as well. he was older, had different views and plans from most 20 somethings. he was so comfortable in his own skin, like he didn’t have any hesitations about what he wants and how he’s going to get it. he wasn’t the lanky boy i knew from years back.

after that night, it became more frequent. dinners-out with groups, movies together, phone calls at night, a regular good morning message. at first i wasn’t interested and i wasn’t sure of his intentions. we were so different from before i wasn’t sure if he wanted me as i am today.

but he was consistent, and sincere, and funny. he complemented the attitudes that i had and filled-up those that i didn’t. he was grown-up in ways that i need to be. he showed me a different view of life and made me realize unexpected things are sometimes the most poignant in our lives.  but perhaps the thing that clinched it was that he made me tingle when our elbows touched.

i’m still learning his ways. i don’t think i’ve fully unravelled who he is. it keeps me on my toes, anticipating what new thing i would discover about him. he keeps on surprising me with the littlest of things that i don’t think he even realizes. i still catch myself amazed at how things turned out. who would’ve thought that all these emotions would come just by looking at a photo of us?

we just celebrated our first year together. even so, i still long for his hugs and kisses, race to the phone at night, count the days when i’ll see him again, and smile at the mere thought that he’s mine and i’m his.

i am now a working girl… in the non-prostitute sort of way.

i started working for a small litigation firm the day after i arrived from my vacation. people were telling me to take an additional week off since, once i start working, i would wish that i did take that week off.

i decided that i would write about my first day at work. but, alas, there was too much actual work going on that i didn’t have time to blog, until today.

let me give you a background of my daily life, mondays to fridays, for the past three weeks. i wake up at 545AM (extendible by five minutes) and am the only creature stirring in our otherwise early-risers’ household. i eat my bowl of cereal and drink my glass of milk while pondering what to wear (a daily dilemma, i tell you). i jump into the shower, checking off things i would have to do while washing my hair. i get dressed, put on my make-up (or, at least, try to), get my hair into a boring ponytail, grab my color-coordinated bag and slip into the same hued high-heeled shoes, and jump into the car to meet my carpoolmates.

it’s a 45-minute commute (at least) from my commonwealth suburb to the hustle and bustle of makati. at 745am, the time i usually get there, it is already a-bustling. i grab a bagel from the coffee shop downstairs and prepare my big mug of espresso pressed coffee. by 830am, i settle in my comfortable (thank god!) chair and start the day of an underbar associate.

it’s usually typing, reading, discussing, verifying, and more typing and reading. i usually log in around eight hours of work. i usually leave around 7pm in the evening, my contact lenses dry, my neck muscles stiff, my make-up non-existent, my hair in shambles, and loving the day i just had.

i had this fear a friend of mine put into my head before i took the bar. what if, i go through four years of law school, go crazy reviewing for the bar, start working and realize, this isn’t what i wanted to do. she pointed out that whatever i would do would have to be connected with the law since that’s what i studied four years more. there’s no escaping. and if i didn’t go through with the legal career path, i just wasted four years of my life and many, many sleepless nights.

thankfully, i need not escape. i admit my work schedule now is not as hectic as compared to the other associates at the office, but i can see myself doing this for a long time. i actually look forward to the day that i’ll be as busy as the other associates. stupid, crazy me.

i like being an advocate and even like trying to advocate a position i find hard to argue for. i like researching and get a thrill when i discover something that i can hinge my case on. i like being asked what i think about a legal question and answer what i think about it with certainty and quite an amount of believabilty. i can’t wait until i pass the bar in march/april 2006 (cross your fingers!) and start arguing in court. i feel that that’s where i would truly be in my element.

true that a short time has only elapsed for me to determine that i would still love this job three, four, ten years from now. and maybe i’ll regret saying that i want to be more busy than i am now. in a few months, i may be missing dinners out with friends, movies with my brother, dates with my (understanding, patient, wonderful, wonderful) boyfriend, and some hours of sleep but, right now, i’m basking in the excitement of now.

eversince i can remember, i’ve always dreamt of going to new york. i’ve listed it as one of my top five destinations; a place i must go to before i die. i don’t know what it is about this city. maybe it’s because of frank sinatra singing about it, or woody allen repeatedly paying homage to it, reinforced by sex and the city.

when my plane landed in newark, new jersey after six hours of flying, two hours of delay, two planes, and a smelly eastern european beside me during the flight from chicago to jersey, i couldn’t pull my borrowed trolley fast enough to meet my ninang at the arrivals gate.

the first thing that the east coast made me realize was that my denim jacket was insufficient. the uber cold blast of air hit my face as i exited the terminal. in ten seconds, my lips were chapped, my face was dry, and my jaw was shivering. not one that can stand the cold, i nonetheless braved it all. i’m a tunnel away from nyc!

of course you have to go through the usual. take the ferry. post by the french lady. see the skyline (ooohhh, there’s the chrysler building and the empire state!). have the lights of times square beside you. check out the brownstones. but the top three things i really wanted to do were (in this order): (1) walk the streets of new york with john travolta smugness; (2) watch a broadway play; and (3) eat a hotdog in new york.

unfortunately, i did only one in my to-do list. it was raining during my four day stay in the east coast. when we finally got through the manila-esque traffic in lincoln tunnel, it was almost 8PM and we had to hurry to the theater.

i tried to walk the streets, with the bee gees’ music playing in my head. but it was hard to do so under the rain and in brand new high heels. there was no time to grab a hot dog and my ninang didn’t want me to do so for fear of getting food poisoning. so i snuggled into my seat in the theater, consoling myself that, at least, i get to once again cry over christine singing "that’s all i ask of you" to raoul.

i spent a maximum of three hours in new york, two of which cooped up inside the majestic. i was disappointed. i’ve waited for this moment for so long, dreamed of it, and i’m leaving, going back to the other side of the city, longing for more. my dad was telling me, at least i got there. yes, i did get there. and i left it wanting.

so i guess nyc isn’t completely crossed off my list. i want to feel the city, experience it, understand why so many people marvel at it. someday, i’m going to have my hotdog — and eat it too.

finally, the bar examinations are over. after how many months of trying to cram as much information into my brain as possible, i hurdled the last of the obstacles before i could finally put the appellation "atty." before my name. the exams were not easy, and i didn’t expect them to be. although i had hoped that i would be confident through and through, i ended up close to tears after the taxation examination while riding the pedicab to sheraton.

but, it’s done. there’s nothing else to do but wait, and hope, and pray that whatever gibberish i wrote down has some validity (or that it was in very good english, at least) and that my writing is legible enough for the examiner not to say, "langya. parang kinayod ng manok!"

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i repeatedly told my "bar slaves" (love you jayps and aissa!) that after the last exam, as i walk away from la salle, the minute i extend out my hand, i should have a cold beer ready to chug down. i quite didn’t get that wish. when i got out of la salle, the first thing i experienced was the loud thud, thud, thudding of the ateneo law school’s speakers. walking down, there was a blur of violet, blue, yellow, green, and other colors. asan ang maroon? i finally found them at the end of the line. they had their banners, and their cheers, pats on the back and a big hug from garth. but my thought was: asan ang beer?!?

instead of a cooler fully of san miguel, there was a cart full of red bull. i was offered that. hell no! call me a near-alcohol, but i want to smell like chico (as my dad would put it) ASAP! thankfully, the UP barops got through for me and i finally got my dark brew. beer on my left, yosi on my right, it was euphoria.

i never expected that i’ll be that ecstatic finishing the bar. after all, the pessimist that i am, i have only taken the exam, not actually passed it yet. but after all the hard work and after aspiring to reach that stage for so long, it felt like it was an achievement. and though i wonder if i’ll be as euphoric come early next year, i’m thankful i have people who remind me, worries are unnecessary, it’s in the bag

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so after the bar hoopla, i am now on vacation. i have travelled thousands of miles and sat in coach for almost thirteen hours to get to california. the first thing i did when i got here? had a beer, of course.

it’s the first full day of my vacation. the day consisted of some reading, playing with my cousin’s dog, watching television (or flipping through all 500 channels), taking a loooooooooonnng bath, drinking more beer :), and having pizza. i’ve always been one who couldn’t stand not doing anything. but right now, i’m not complaining. not at all.

i am a blog virgin.

it seems that eversince i entered the great halls of malcolm (UP law school to those of you unfamiliar), i have done things way later than everybody else i know. cases in point: friendster, massages, greenbelt, even harry potter six. i have, in fact, to wait until after september to be allowed to get a copy. and now, blogging.

thanks to my boxing buddy, iame, i deluded myself into thinking that i can still write something non-legal, semi-interesting, hopefully witty, even haha! funny worthy of blog space. or maybe just something i wouldn’t be embarrassed to post.

so what do i talk about on my first time? that i have absolutely nothing to say? that i’ve always thought the idea of blogging is antithetical to one’s right to privacy? and if that is so, why am i doing this right now? that i, obviously, cave in to peer pressure quite easily?

so how do you do this thing anyways? is it a requirement that one who blogs (posts a blog?) actually has something at least mildly intellectual to say? does it have to be worthy of discussions and renumerations? is correct grammar, punctuation, and spelling a must? do we follow the chicago or the new york times manual? or let’s just go with the feliciano rules? my gads.

i promise — or at least will try — that my next blog will at least speak of something substantial. but for now, i just did this to get some experience. after all, nobody wants to die a virgin.