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Filed Under: Why Succession is awesome

Succession with Dean Danny Concepcion
a.k.a. The one professor who taught us the importance of showbiz in the study of law

Would you look at that. Genuinely happy and giddy faces of people who now knew what it meant to be taught in the grand manner. And, what do you know  the one class I expected to dislike the most ended up being the class I loved and enjoyed this semester.

Perhaps I'll save the list of reasons for later, that is, after the finals, when I have the right to say I've actually survived it. (Crossing my fingers!) Just putting this up to here to remind myself that there is so much joy in the learning of law; sometimes it just takes one brilliant person to make you realize that.


Also: here's an excerpt from a case I just finished digesting for this class. Perfection, as always, from Justice Isagani Cruz. He's easily one of my favorite justices ever.

This may as well be the best introduction to a case I've ever read.

"We are back to the early 1900's in the cool regions of the Mountain Province, setting of many legends of adventure and romance among the highlanders of the North. Our story is not as fanciful, involving as it does not a rivalry for the hand of a beautiful Igorot maiden but a prosaic dispute over a piece of land. Even so, as in those tales of old, the issue shall be decided in favor of the just and deserving albeit according to the dictates not of the heart but of the law.

The hero of this story we shall call Old Man Tumpao although at the time it all began he was still a young and vigorous man. He had a first wife by whom he begot three children, who are the private respondents in this case. Upon her death, he took to himself a second wife, by whom he had no issue but who had two children she had "adopted" according to the practice of the Igorots then. It is their children who, with some others, are the petitioners in this case.

The facts are as simple as the ancient hills."

Mang-oy v. CA, G.R. No. L-27421 (September 12, 1986)

Who says there's no prose/poetry in ponencias?




Trying out calligraphy

For about a month or so now, I've been obsessing on calligraphy posts that Instagram has been referring to me. I have no idea how Instagram managed to figure out my yet-to-be-awakened interest on typography and longhand, but it did, thanks to the "People You May Like" page. It led me to a couple of local and international artists very much into the craft of calligraphy, and before I knew it, half of my feed was filled with fancy scribbles. (The other half being puppies. Heehee.)

Unknown to a lot of people, I am a stress-doodler. When I am most anxious or frustrated, I doodle a lot - quotes, lyrics, even shapes. Sometimes I just scribble swirls and random patterns. You can tell it's almost exam week when the corners of my notebooks and reviewers suddenly have Incubus lyrics on them. I enjoy the physical act of writing. I hoard pens of all colors and brands; I have stocks of notebooks and pad papers of all sizes. Yes, I love all kinds of writing. (This is probably why a high school classmate of mine, who once became a seatmate, thought "Creative Writing" was equivalent to "Creative Lettering and Fancy Handwriting." HA HA HAHAHA #truestory)

Which is why I kept asking myself the last few weeks, "Why haven't I tried calligraphy?" I have no idea why I never considered it before. It makes sense to have it as a hobby, given the amount of doodling I do. Maybe it's just that I never really saw people I knew doing it. It wasn't so accessible an idea to me. Until now.

A few weeks ago, I bought myself two calligraphy markers from National Bookstore and spent an entire night - guiltlessly - just writing down the choruses to Taylor Swift's new singles. And just over the weekend, my good friend Jio bought for me actual calligraphy supplies: two nibs, two pen holders (one straight and one oblique), and a small jar of ink.

And now, here I am, trying (and failing!) to make elegant scribbles in longhand. I guess I'm pretty lucky my cursive is quite decent, thanks to the Paulinian handwriting the nuns forced us to learn in grade school. It's actually overwhelming! Holding the pen takes a lot getting used to. So far, I'm still committing a lot of rookie mistakes. (Please forgive some messy letters in the picture above!) But it's great fun. It's relaxing, in the same way my regular, ordinary doodling makes me feel, but it's also challenging, which is always a good feeling to have. It's a nice distraction from the rigidity of law school.

A really, really fancy distraction.


Friday, I'm in love

*cue The Cure background music*

Reward for surviving another day of Tax (me), braving the Friday rush hour (him), and remembering milestones like the anniversary (both of us): Dinner at Abe in Trinoma!

I think it's only our first time to be sitting across each other on a date. The restaurant was full and we didn't have much of a choice, but it was fun pretending we were on our first date :))

We had gising-gising, gambas, and lamb adobo - which were all so incredibly delicious, we wanted to shake hands, high-five and then mano with Abe himself. (Pretty sure he's a cool lolo.) Then we had leche flan, which is the best thing on any Filipino restaurant menu ever. It is nectar from the gods; it is a little slice of heaven. It never disappoints. I can say the same for the boyfriend and this relationship thus far - but that'll be too cheesy, so I'll stop it right here :P

Happy 365th day since we decided to put it up on Facebook!


Happy crush

Many moons ago, I had a crush on my classmate in PE.

Every Wednesday and Friday, this song would be on loop inside my head. It was the perfect encapsulation of a happy crush. It was a crush that never went acknowledged. I didn't even bother considering if he reciprocated the feeling in the slightest. I was content walking beside him, talking about mundane things like the weather and birthdays. Oh to be sixteen, and to be partnered with a boy cute enough to make you want to walk for two hours, twice a week, for your first semester in UP. No matter that he wasn't yours, no matter that you shared only pleasantries and phone numbers. It wasn't like anything was ever going to come out of it.

Come sweeten every afternoon, I'd sing to myself.

Didn't think he'd actually do, all these years later.


It's been a year since you and I first went to Mass together and updated our status online. We've been going out for months before that, but we wanted the 11-12-13 date to match (because we're baduy like that!) Yep, it couldn't have been more ~*official*~ than God AND Facebook.

People may say "It's only been a year," but wow, if that is what a year with you feels like, then I can't wait for all the rest.

let all the things you mean to me
come tumbling out my mouth


Required Reading: In a Small Bag, She Packed Our Hopes (Modern Love)

(Let's try something out for a change. I must admit I haven't been able to read as much books for leisure as I used to because of law school. But often my "literary craving" is satiated by a really great article, story, or essay I come across in the Internet. As you may know, I'm more of a long-form fan more than any other kind of writing, and while I appreciate novels, it is almost usually this structure that appeals most to me, as someone who reads and someone who writes. So I guess this is my attempt at sharing that to you guys. Here goes: Required Reading.)


I've been a fan of the New York Times' Modern Love series for quite a few years now, and I can honestly say that every single time, each article makes me go, "Damn, I wish I would have written that." Not necessarily because I could relate and not necessarily because anything similar has happened to me, but because each one is so wonderfully crafted - in a very easy, light, but nonetheless profound - it makes me want to try to write the same way, if only I had the time.

I haven't really come across an article in Modern Love where I truly identified with the writer and the kind of love she was writing about. (I guess the loves that I've had aren't very... modern?) 

But I've always believed that that's an indication of a great piece of writing: when it doesn't necessarily affect you directly on an emotional level, but it actually makes you want to go out there and write, just because you feel that the piece has revealed something to you in its form. Somewhere between those lines is a style, is a rhythm. And you just feel compelled to recreate it.

This article is one such example.

"How love reveals itself is sometimes a slow process, the gradual accretion of all the seemingly mundane acts of kindness, sacrifice, mindfulness and even bad behavior two people share. Sarah's act was an instance of what love looks like, stripped of all the usual bells and whistles. To have the opportunity to witness that, regardless of the circumstances, left me feeling like a fortunate man."

In A Small Bag, She Packed All Our Hopes by Tim McEown

It's always the little things, isn't it? And how the smallness is magnified by the prose. How I long to keep writing with the same kind of power, the kind that amplifies and finds meaning even in the quietest of things.