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Certain capacities

Sometimes I find myself randomly surprised at the many things our bodies and minds can do under pressure, or strong will.

For instance, memorizing more or less a hundred and fifty provisions for a single test that requires specificity and particularity - an ironically difficult task for someone like me who appreciates the stories in the details, but who has the memory of a slightly-more-retentive goldfish - and writing them over and over again, until your hands no longer seeem to move within your control;

holing up in the library for an entire Saturday, just going through cases and reciting provisions alternately, endlessly, without the privilege (and peril) of a high-speed internet connection or other such good enough distraction (i.e. an actual person);

running, without pause, twice around the Oval, even when your legs hurt and your mind is tired, because you realize now that there is a certain kind of comfort, a physical kind of relief that washes over you and makes your cheeks flush, after catching your breath and realizing you have done what no one expects of you;

waking up earlier than usual to read more: to catch up on things forgotten, or to get a step ahead;

starting to like the place that has, since the beginning, only pushed you away, and seeing the beauty in the little things that make it whole: the wooden tables, the marbled tiles, the view of the Sunken Garden, the chatter of people both eager and afraid to get through the day;

looking away when the sound of a private message pops up from the laptop beside yours;

growing deaf to the sound of feelings you're afraid to admit you're slowly turning indifferent to;

choosing to see past mistakes and imperfections; or understanding what it means to mess up and realize what one wants;


welcoming the quiet and the chaos inside your heart that can only be traced to one;

putting yourself back together again, with the pieces that feel right, and the questions that know the answers even without being asked.


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Calendar girl, who's in love with the world

...stay alive.

Asdkfhalsdkfjhaklsdjfhs ♥


Stars is absolutely, without a doubt, my most favorite band in the world, and it's been days since I bought the ticket, but, man, I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I'm going to see them live. I have so much love for this band. Every time I see the tickets on my bedside drawer I go "Ahhhhh!" inside my head. I AM SO EXCITED.


Cowgirl Annie

Because we're smack in the middle of midterms week and I have nothing else to talk about anyway other than school, here instead is a picture of the steak I ate - nay, devoured - after our gruesome Constitutional Law II exam. Ain't it beautiful?

Brickfire's "Cowgirl Annie"



The peril of implied actions in obligations is that you can never be too sure.

Has the old obligation been extinguished? Was there an agreement on all parties involved? Is the new one valid? Are the old and new contracts incompatible in all points such that the old obligation is deemed unenforceable? How can you be sure about what to expect from the other party? What do you do?

What? What now?




Field trip

Last Tuesday, my friends and I went to the Supreme Court to listen to the oral arguments regarding the Anti-Cybercrime Law. It wasn't supposed to push through because we weren't able to get passes to secure us seats inside the session hall, but we ended up going anyway because we've never been to the SC before. The huge LCD screen in the lobby showing the real-time developments were good enough for us. We were in the halls of justice! And, for once, we actually understood what they were talking about - right to unreasonable searches and seizures, right to privacy, levels of scrutiny, etc. - proof that we are indeed learning somehow. (Thanks, Consti!)

I won't deny that it woke up something in me, something I thought had long been missing, something that needed to be reawakened.It's difficult, and it's not something I will love as much as creative writing, but damn it, I want to be a lawyer. 


a good morning

The thing about looking at things one day at a time is that while it may seem too flighty and noncommittal, when you wake up suddenly to a beautiful feeling - a beautiful, tangled up knot inside your chest that can't wait to burst out - even though it's six and your class isn't until ten, even though you'd still rather sleep because you still have cramps, it makes your morning. And your morning makes your day. And one day can mean everything.




Latch - Disclosure ft. Sam Smith

School starts again tomorrow, and I'm supposed to be welcoming it with dread (since midterms are coming, and well, it's law school - when is it not dreadful?). But instead, I'm starting the year with this good-vibes song. Doesn't it make you want to just grab someone and dance?

2013, make me dance.

Got you shackled in my embrace 
I won't let go of you


I've been writing again

like I used to. I had the urge to grab an old notebook and write on the last page - a lyric, or a refrain - like I always do. I wrote the line to a song, a soundtrack to a rainy January afternoon of some years ago. But then the words veered away from the chorus, and suddenly they were singing on their own, without much effort or consternation. I couldn't stop it; I was no longer scribbling the lyrics to a song, I was writing my own prose of the same kind of wanting and searching and finding - as if merely re-writing someone's sentiments wasn't enough, as if it was a betrayal to my own feelings not having my say. It's been a while since I last wrote like I didn't have to chew the phrases, only feel them. And before I even lifted the pen from the paper, I knew. If they ask me why, I will tell them this. They will never understand, they won't have to. I am writing again. Finally, I hear the words singing from the page, we can form the sentences they've never allowed yourself to say.