Sad

Some things just jump at you. And eat at your heart. This is one of them.I wish no one would ever have to feel that she (or he) was not good enough to love.

From www.postsecret.com.

“Bahaginan”

I attended and gave a talk yesterday at a workshop-seminar here in Davao for coconut farmer-leaders. I was with two other lawyers from the organization I presently work for. The night before, while preparing for my talk, one of the lawyers I was with told me, “you know when I was a young lawyer and still scared of talking in events of this sort, I would tell myself that ‘no matter what, you still know more than they do‘”. They, of course, referring to community organizers, peasants, small fishers, and various other representatives from the basic sectors.

I suppose that is correct, in the sense that people who went through law school and passed the bar do have the upper hand in terms of legal knowledge and skills. Public interest lawyers who decide to pursue development work do bring with them the learnings from law school and from text books and use these as tools in their advocacy.

In the course, however, of my still-very-limited experiences as an advocacy lawyer of two years, I have realized that I have learned far far more from my “clients” (for lack of a better word) than they have from me. Bravery, a sense of justice, of righteous indignation, yes, but beyond that, there is a wisdom so organic and so ancient — born of the bosom of the earth and the depths of the sea. My friend Aison, who works for Saligan and is also an agrarian reform lawyer, understands perfectly what I mean. “They look at the moon, Jae, and they know it is a good time to fish,” he said, telling me about one night when he joined small fishers in a small banca go out and fish. In turn, I told him about Ka Cenon, our Akbayan peasant leader, who can explain RA 6657 or the Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Law as good as or better than any hotshot lawyer out there, and can predict the onslaught of a typhoon by looking at the alignment of the coconut leaves.

When I am asked what it means to be a public interest lawyer, I would explain it according to how I have learned it from my favorite law professor, Marvic Leonen. Public interesting lawyering is about agitating and interrogating the system, debunking the myth that the law is this solid and unshakeable firmament of black and white, when in truth, the large areas of gray-zone indeterminacy provide avenues for cooptation to reinforce existing power arrangements.

That’s still valid, of course. But to that, I add the concept of “bahaginan” — something that is not present in law firm attorney-client relationships. It is a word I find beautiful, and a word I use during talks or paralegal trainings before the basic sectors. “Ako po si Jae, tayo po ay magbabahaginan.” I will not teach, I will share. And you will share back. Because there is no primacy, no superiority of knowledge. The universe contains a vast plenitude of knowledge. And the part, the small part given me, is some knowledge of the law and the legal system.

Deeper than that, deeper than sharing, is sharing of the self. Pagbabahaginan, from the root bahagi. Bahagi ko, bahagi mo. I see the work that I do not simply as a profession, but as a commitment. And it is not even a commitment to “help” because “help” to my mind, carries the baggage of charity — a concept I do not like. It is a commitment to give of myself, to do what I can to perhaps bring the world 1,000,000th of a centimeter closer to our vision of a world that is just and right and fair. I give of myself to you, and you give of yourself to me. We will work together, laugh together, weep together, struggle together, fight together. As equals. Towards a world of equals.

Competitive

Competitive ako. As in.

Nung college ako, kasama ako sa debate society ng UP. Sumasali-sali kami sa mga contest contest. Dahil nga on-the-spot binibigay yung topic at on-the-spot mo din malaman yung side mo, kelangan madami kang alam sa current events. Kilala mo si Mobutu Sese Seko? Kilala namin yon, pati kapitbahay ng kapatid nya. Alam mo ba kung ilang percent ng timberland area sa Indonesia ang nasira nung forest fire? Hindi rin namin alam pero kaya naming imbentuhin yon. With a straight face. Tinanong kami ng coach namin dati, kung bakit kami nagpapakahirap magtrain at magresearch imbes na mag-inuman nalang. Sabi ng isa, “gusto ko matuto ng current events.” Sabi naman ng isa, “magla-law kasi ako.” Ako lang ata ang sumagot: “Masarap kasi manalo.” Try nyong manalo sa debate kalaban ang top-ranked team ng International Islamic University on the topic of Islamic fundamentalism. Try nyong matalo ninyo ang Stanford, with their Ivy League accent and all. Orgasmic, mga tol. Kahit na mas madaming beses ka natatalo, kahit minsa’y natagpuan kayo ng teammate mo ng coach nyo na nakaupo sa tabi ng basurahan on a very cold Australian night at nakatingin sa kawalan dahil natalo kayo ng Bangladesh, go ka pa din. Fight. Test the limits of your soul’s resilience. Challenge the capacity of your heart to accept one defeat after another. For the chance of winning. For that feeling, that adrenaline rush.

Teka, nasaan na ba ako? Ah oo. Competitive ako. Super duper.

The night before yung exam para makapasok sa UP Law (yung LAE), nagmumukmok ako with my friend sa Sarah’s. Nastrestress ako mag-LAE, di din naman ako sure na gusto ko mag-law. At I just broke off a relationship so slightly off-kilter ako. At syempre, aminin na natin, may ego part na kinakabahang hindi makapasa. Sabi sa akin ng friend kong si Mori, who knows exactly how to push my buttons, “Huuuuu, ayaw mo lang kasi kasabay mo mag-test si _____. Takot ka kasi baka pumasa sya at ikaw hindi”. Ayun, that was all it took. Nag-LAE ako. At tantarantan.. five years after, abugado na ako. Nagsimula sa isang buyuan sa Sarah’s, by a friend who knew EXACTLY what he was doing at the time he was doing it.

About two weeks ago, may katext ako, a close close friend, an activist who has earned his stripes. May thing kasi kami na itetext ko sya kung hihingiin ko yung opinion nya on a contentious issue, tapos sya ganun din. Parang, “what’s your take on this?” Mga difficult, gray-area questions lang, hindi yung tipong, “Anong tingin mo sa SONA ni GMA?” na obvious ang sagot unless ikaw si Iggy Arroyo. May tinanong ako sa kanya hinggil sa isang issue and we happened to have different takes on it. After a flurry of exchanges, nag-agree ako sa kanya and I told him exactly that. “You win. I agree.” Ang sabi niya, “First time in four years ko lang narinig sa yo yan.”

Sa yoga class ko kahapon, lagi ko sinisilip yung katabi ko at kinokompare ko kung tama yung ginagawa ko. Parang grade one na sisilipin mo yung katabi mo, tapos either mag-woworry ka kung maganda yung project nya, or secretly ka magsmasmile kung lagpas lagpas sya magcolor sa lines ng coloring book. Ayan tuloy, sabi ni Teacher Joanne (sa buong class kunwari, pero feeling ko sa akin yon), “Don’t compare yourself with others; yoga is about finding your pace, finding your peace, reaching deep within.”

Ayan, Jae, yoga/life lesson number one: find your pace, find your peace, wag inggitera, wag-awayera.

Pero bago yan, aminin mo na kaya ka nagboblog ng super dalas these days e ayaw mo magpatalo kay Golda, na EVERYDAY nagboblog. Ang lupet. Gusto ko din maging malupit. At complit. Centrum complit.

Hahahahaha. Yoga has a lot to teach me. Ohm. Ohm. Ohm.

p.s. ang latak ng entry na to. pag-iisipan ko kung idedelete ko to o hindi.

p.p.s. pa-davao ako for one week. babay muna.

Yoga Tayo!

Some time back, when I was going through an illness, friends were telling me that a better diet and yoga would help my kidneys a lot. I tried to eat more veggies and drink my milk, but I resisted the yoga part because… ok, I used to be one of those misguided people who thought that yoga was, well, kind of hokey. Like voodoo and wicca and new age tantric sex. (mantra… tantra… chakra… CHAKA, i used to say, hehe.) Then someone sent me some material on it months ago, and the many health benefits piqued my curiosity. But then, I was intimidated at the thought of being the sole yoga beginner in a room full of strangers, all of whom were yoga experts and looked like human noodles, and who would steal glances at the girl in the back with the pained expression on her face.

Several months later, Joanne Barriga, a friend of mine and a former yoga instructor at Fitness First, sent out a mass email inviting all her friends to yoga sessions she would be conducting herself. I hesistantly joined the session yesterday, a Saturday, enticed by the proposition of learning about an activity from which many health benefits could be derived while in the company of a small group of people who were beginners like myself and who wouldn’t laugh at me.

Suffice it to say that I really had the best time in months. I’ve been feeling very sluggish for several weeks, suffering from the dooldrums and all. Feeling out of sorts too because of a fight with someone. As corny as it may sound, after that session, I felt invigorated and alive. It felt good to sweat so much, to feel all your senses heightened and to just shut out all the problems of the day. Joanne is so nice and she’s sensitive about the fact that we’re all beginners so she starts with the basic steps, so that us yoga virgins won’t feel any inadequacies or insecurities. The class is small and intimate and unpretentious, with no super-rich matronas in branded outfits or grim-and-determined new-agey types. The yoga studio is equally unpretentious, but very lovely, as it sits smack in the middle of a quiet garden in 13th St., New Manila.

Classes for the “Yoga Tayo” program are held on Tuesdays (7:30-8:30 pm) and Saturdays (4:00-5:00 pm) at a house in New Manila, walking distance from E. Rodriguez. Each session costs P200. That’s cheaper than normal rates. Some may still find it a little steep, but it’s really worth it. You can decide to go only once a week, if you want to. Please contact Joanne at joanne.carmelab@gmail.com to get more details, like the exact address of the house. Or you can ask me too.

I texted Joanne today to ask her if it was okay that my abdomen felt a little sore. (I got worried because rain-on-my-parade Enteng said that it meant my posture was bad and I was doing my poses all wrong). She said that it was normal and that it meant “my core was activated.”

And I thought that was very, very cool. That my core was activated. Yay.

p.s. I also got a haircut today from Monica’s hairstylist at Azta Salon so that’s two out of five from the List.

* picture is from Google Images

Things they forgot to write about in “The Girl’s Guide to Everything”

• When the opportunity to date a famous singer-composer celebrity presents itself to you, before you make up your mind, consider the possibility that two years after you’ve broken up, you could have an officemate working next to you who would happen to be a diehard fan of his (because if your name is Carl Marx, you don’t listen to the Backstreet Boys, you just don’t)  and blare songs sung by your now-ex boyfriend in his sad raspy voice from the office sound system everyday, morning to evening, lunch time and break time included.
•  ”Super thanks po!” in twangy St. scho english is a line for parents, for boyfriends, for friends, for YM chatmates, for officemates… for virtually everyone EXCEPT municipal trial court judges who granted your oral motion to dismiss.
• If desirous of commanding respect in an online correspondence, make a formal email address. Steer clear of email addresses like attyjae@sanrioland.com. Or for that matter, jaelaw@gmail.com.
• To save money, hop inside a Body Shop or a Beauty Bar and apply makeup from the makeup testers. Best done before a date, a photo session (kung kelangan magpa1″1 picture sa kodak express center sa mall) or in the case of a blockmate of mine, before the Winlaw ball. Choose cosmetics that can be applied without need of sponge or brush. Halimbawa, eyeshadow or cheek stain that you can use your fingers to apply. Use lipgloss that you can squeeze out of a tube. And bring your own foundation. I do it all the time, hehe.
• When Sheriffs, court personnel, or various other goffers  ask you money for “pamasahe” , *wink wink* and it’s merely a “tip” and not a bribe to do something bad or to wreak an injustice on someone else, they of course won’t tell you the exact amount they want. Do this: ask him where he came from, compute taxi fare in your head and multiply by two.
• Anong mga bagay na dapat bilhin mo ng mahal, at anong bagay ang pwedeng mura nalang? Bili ka ng murang payong, mahal (at matibay) na sapatos. Murang cell phone, mahal na computer. Murang eye shadow, mahal na foundation/face powder. Murang lotion, mahal na pabango. Murang pantyliner, mahal na sanitary napkin. Murang toothpaste, mahal na toothbrush. Murang beer. Murang beer.

Putting It On Paper

Okay, so I took on a new job two weeks ago. I went to Vietnam last month on a vacation. I got myself a laptop, and more importantly, learned how to use a laptop. Granted, it hasn’t exactly been a completely-staid past month. Oddly enough, though, I have this vague disconcerting feeling of having settled in so — too? — easily into the pattern and grind and whirr of “adult” life. I’ve been in been-there-done-that mode since the early part of 2007, wherein I thumb my nose at college kids at Sarah’s who fall in love too easily, dress too skankily and don’t have an SSS number yet. Maybe it’s the weather, but I’m bored. Tired, yes, and bored. It’s not one particular thing. It’s certainly not my work, or the group of friends i hang out with. And it’s not something BIG, something that I might need a life-coach for. I suppose it’s just a general sense of restlessness over the predictability with which I currently run my life. (Does that make sense? I’m restless because I’ve gotten to be predictable? Heh. Just make it make sense.)

Like I said, it’s not a big deal. There’s no Alanis Morissette song written about this… phase. I could change my routine, of course. Like maybe stop hanging out at Analog, and start going to Embassy for a change. But I’m not really up to it. And I’m too tamad to get up on my (already starting to become) fat ass and leave the perimeters of UP Village. And I’m feeling anti-social right now and am not in the mood to make new friends.(haha, sunget.)

So how now, brown cow? My friend Steve thinks that I should draw up a list of 5 things that I’ve never done before, but have always wanted to: exciting enough to jolt me out of my mid-year dooldrums, but will cause no fundamental alterations in the general hulma of my life as I know it.

So here goes my list. I’m putting it on paper so I will be “estopped” (how law school!) and that will be motivation enough to see it through. Now, don’t some of you go “ang dali naman nyan!” at some of my entries, because we all are brave in different ways and if you’re mean enough to diss my fears, you’re probably too scared to have a python around your neck, or you pee in your pants when you ‘re made to speak in public. So there.

By next month, August 18, I should have been able to:

1. Eat in a buffet restaurant alone. Dinner, not breakfast. I’ve always been scared of eating in public alone. The usual “mukhang-kawawa” fear. But I’m gradually trying to conquer that. The buffet restaurant is the litmus test.

2. Cook a really difficult mediterranean dish.

3. Do yoga, even though I’m really, really scared of making a fool out of myself and looking so inflexible. I’m doing this on Saturday. My friend Joanne Barriga is conducting classes.

4. Get a Brazilian. *no pain, no gain*

5. Get my hair cut drastically short. (waaaaah)

And maybe all these will prepare me for my ultimate ULTIMATE fear-factor level fear. My biggest fear since first year college. Wait, high school pa ata. I’m giving myself a year. And I can’t even write about it because just thinking about it makes me break into cold sweat.

Urgh. Meantime, wish me luck with number 1-5. And get back to me on August 18.

Poetry Tuesdays

Twilight to me

is the sun breaking up

into sad, angry little pieces

Not fading, no,

but self-annihilating,

a violence ordered yet random.

Romantic too,

for violence is romance

and romance is violence.

And this mayhem is what makes

the ocean turn red

as though it bleeds for our sins

or from the slaughter of monsters,

until everything turns

into a black country of shadows.

You, you are my sunrise.

On Boy Friends

* Inspired by my friend Golda’s latest post “Every Girl Needs a Boy Friend”, and a long long overdue response to Arcibald’s comment here.

Me, I’m a self-proclaimed fag hag. It certainly feels like in every episode of my life, there was a bading in the picture — either sipping Margaritas and taking long drags out of designer cigarettes with me in some chi-chi bar while listening to the latest development of my psychedelic love life; or palengkera-parlorista style, cackling wickedly while eating turon and dissecting in delicious detail the men who have broken our hearts and whose hearts we have broken. I love them all, these beautiful queens.

But it’s true that much has already been said about the fag-faghag tandem. The “gUrlfriend” relationship has been extensively discussed as well, in movies like “Beaches” and the “Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood”.

Golda asserted correctly that the most underrated human relationship is that between a girl and her boy (space) friend. Movies made about this kind of relationship always end up with the girl and the boy friend becoming girlfriend and boyfriend. Like Jolina and Marvin. Or, of more recent vintage, John Lloyd and Bea. As though a platonic relationship between boy and girl is not good enough if it isn’t a prelude to, you know, true love and sweaty groping. Was I the only one who was (very faintly) bothered when Winona Ryder kissed Ethan Hawke in Reality Bites and said “I’m ending our friendship”?

Over the past several years, I’ve managed to build rich, lasting platonic friendships with a handful of wonderful and funny heterosexual men . These are the type of people who you can talk about ANYTHING with, without the complications of sex and gender getting in the way. (Well, almost anything. They can’t talk about the latest fashion accessory, and they know zilch about local showbiz unless it’s about Katrina Halili). And some of the pieces of advice that have tended to stick in my head and will probably remain there forever come from them.

Example from an actual conversation with an actual Boy Friend, who happens to be a very intelligent law professor: Wag ka kasi makipag-breakup ng gabi. Iset mo ng lunch. Yung sa venue na maraming tao. Chocolate Kiss, ganun.

None of the guys you date will ever be good enough for the Boy Friend (unless of course, the guy happens to be one of his buddies and he brought the both of you together — in which case he’ll make fun of you even more. Hi Bobby!) and when you’re newly in love, expect maybe one or two occasions wherein he’ll do stupid imitations of of starry-eyed cloud-nine you. But if the relationship did not work out and it was your heart that got bludgeoned into pieces, he’ll be by your side, San Mig bucket and kalderetang kambing in tow, alternately holding you while you cry (helpful), and offering to beat up your guy with a dos por dos “wasak kung wasak” (not helpful.)

And another thing: when they tell you you’re hot, you’re more sure you’re hot than if say, a girlfriend or a gay friend told you the same thing. With your guy friends, it’s like, you can “test-drive” how you look and what reactions you can expect to generate from the opposite sex, without necessarily venturing into the dark and murky thicket of non-platonic male-female entanglements. It’s fun: you actually see them give an involuntary start, manifested more often than not in a twitch or in a gulp. And then they go, “ang seksi mo ‘tol, ah.”

If you’re lucky enough to have a particularly nice Boy Friend, he’d do stuff for you and help you get away with scrapes you get yourself into. Studying for the bar, I decided to live on campus to better concentrate on my review (we all know how that turned out!). My blockmate and Boy Friend Francis and I decided to share a room to cut down on expenses. One night, I happened to destroy a certain piece of furniture — I’m keeping the details of this story as sketchy as possible — and, well, let’s just say, he helped me squirm out of that mess. He’s the Boy Friend of all the girls in our block. He’s funny when you need funny. Serious when you need serious. Present, always and forever.

And then there’s yet another Boy Friend, whose existence in my life refutes the notion that a male-female platonic relationship is low-maintenance: you know, like a beige rug that blends with the furniture and is hassle-free, but can be warm and comfy when your toes get cold. Nope, we’re not like that. Well, it’s warm and comfy sometimes, but it definitely is not hassle-free. We fight maybe once every forty eight hours and get on each other’s nerves maybe once a week. Over the pettiest of things. However, when the dust settles, and it does every time, I still like what I have. And I like that I know what I do know now: that solid unconditional friendships can bring “perfect days” too.

Sure, sometimes, friendships of the platonic sort develop into relationships. And I suppose there are girls and boys who wait for that to happen. Tamang ‘Ive loved you for so long you are a friend of mine’. Oh, and there are also kabarkadas of the “non-couple” who wait for that to happen, like kibitzers on the side or bettors in a casino. But really, these friendships should be celebrated for what they are. Along, of course, with the men behind these friendships — for they who make other girls’ hearts go giddy-yap are also they who keep yours happy, safe, sane and working in tandem with your head.