Paper Tigers

I’m not exactly feeling cold. My soul is warm. Every love lost is a holiday every night.



Sometimes I have the attention span of a goldfish. Constantly distracted by a million things, my thoughts linger on a chess board with me too lazy to take my turn, jumping from one piece to another before I make my move. Sometimes I leave books unfinished (it’s embarrassing), homeworks half done and more recently I kept on devolving my attention between this movie I’m watching and this awesome music in my ipod.

So yeah, maybe I’m good at procrastinating and being distracted. But I do follow a routine that is sort of programmed in my system. Like I vacuum thrice every two weeks, order milk tea every other day and yeah read my bible before I go to sleep, nothing distracts me from doing those things (at times).

I go to school early and study for Criminal Law as if my life depended on it. I write in my journal when I feel like it, everyday or something like that. Perhaps, life is offering too much choices on how we spend every second that we spend more time thinking on what to do rather than actually doing it. I mean some, most, I don’t know but I think a number of people spend more time finding who they are than, you know, actually being themselves.

I seriously want to be focused on things, giving them my undivided attention as if for two or three hours they’re all that mattered. However, I also want to let them go as soon as they pose no threat to my well deserved reflex of emotion.

Right now I’m distracted, while writing this I hear the epiphany of crickets outside my room, the rush of rain tapping on the roof as if they were voices asking me a thousand things about myself and this temporary life. Too temporary for that matter, I hear my own thoughts pacing back and forth like an unsure soldier.

Like going to war, without knowing how it ends I risk the selfishness of peace by entertaining every thought as part of a struggle, then again no war was ever won by lack of choices.

Legal Writing


To be a good lawyer, you have to be a good writer. When you are a lawyer, you will be writing all the time. If you do not have any inclination at all to be a writer, you better acquire such inclination if you hope to be even an ordinarily competent lawyer. – Fortunato Gupit, Jr.

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Growing up I always told myself that I’d rather have a broken heart than a broken dream. Yeah, it’s like this protocol fathers tell their daughters once they hit puberty or something like that – silly hormones.

Then again, there are times when I can’t help but just grow up with the thought of having someone to share “that something” with. And then two minutes later, it gets blown away by thoughts of dreams, ambitions and expectations. Don’t worry I’m not gonna be all T.S. and be sharing my insights about love (I do that in my private journal) but I must admit that it crossed my mind at times no matter the purges of my ambition.

Law school is definitely a place I want to be in. I enjoy and suffer the grit of studying till two in the morning, I love the rush of excerpts from the cases we discuss in class and I love the thought that I’m a step closer to my dream of becoming a lawyer. It’s tough and I constantly pray that I survive it.

There’s a place and time for everything.



A path chosen not by will
Voice not by mere conclusions
Ebbing dreams by creating skill
Passed on by successions

Its pressure seeps on laughter
Unknown by human idiom
Learned only through encounter
Lost in time’s venom

Never was it spoken
Neither was it denied
Ode to the never broken
Of whose legacy never died

Questioned the anonymous
Speaking of our advent
Answers all synonymous
Serendipity never is an accident