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I promised to blog last year, but only got around to doing it now. Well, better late than never, eh? And I have picked the most imaginably perfect time to post again: midterms week.

When I was in college, midterms weren’t really a big deal, at least for me. Sure, they were a bit more hectic than the usual hell weeks, but they were always still par for the course for hell semesters. Midterms came, midterms went. They’re just a little bump in the road on the way to the infinitely more hellish finals weeks.

Not in law school. My first ever semester, I did not see the point (nor the importance of midterms). Everybody seemed so serious about midterms, and I couldn’t understand the hype. That bit me in the ass. I failed all of my midterms exams that semester, and I had to scramble to get decent grades in finals and recits in order to pass. Thankfully, I did. After that experience though, I’ve never questioned the importance of midterms in a law school student’s life.

Here I am tucked in a nook at my favorite coffee shop in the city, poring over books and reviewers–trying oh so very desperately to understand Tax. It seems like numbers and math do not want to let go of me just yet (but that’ll make another post entirely). I’m with three other friends and we’re all in our own little worlds, trying to cram as many information as possible in our saturated and coffee-addled brains. God, the stress. It doesn’t help that second semesters are brutally short, so finals week will just be around the corner.

I’m taking the time to have a break. One can only read and highlight/underline/understand so much. As much as I want this post to be insightful or enlightening, I’m afraid it’s here only to serve one purpose–to help me rest a bit before I delve back into my books and readings.

You see, sometimes, a little break is all we need to keep us going.

So I need an outlet. Thus, I’ve decided to start blogging regularly (or as regularly as I can) again.

One of the main reasons why I’ve left this blog dormant is the lack of ideas brimming inside my head. I just don’t know what to talk about. This blog started out as my political ranting/philosophical/news dissecting blog, and, well, throughout the years, it’s been harder and harder to write about those. It just seems as if I have no more material to work with.

And then, duh, it hit me. I have a LOT to write about: specifically about law school. At first, I didn’t want to turn this into a law school blog. However, seeing as I need an outlet and most of my life revolves around law school right now, I see no other feasible option.

Who knows, maybe it’ll lead me to write more and more?

AnnaBee’s post reminded me of why I chose to be in law school. While reading her entry, I couldn’t help but see myself through her words, as if staring at a mirror. Some of my friends didn’t want me to pursue law school because they felt that I wouldn’t fit–that it would tear my personality down. My mom once told me that she thought I was only going to law school because I felt as if I couldn’t do anything else.

Maybe she was partly right, but my main reason still is for the discipline I feel it would drill into me. I felt that if I were to go straight from college to the work force, I’d be a wandering soul, not really knowing where to go and only going through the motions because they’re set fixedly. I’d be like a kid on a sugar high plowing through a candy store. And when I’ve eaten all the candy and the adrenaline rush wears off, I’d be miserable and sick.

Try as I might, I just couldn’t muster the courage to care. It was as if I went through college because it was expected. Everybody goes through college. But I went through it in order to graduate, and not really to effect a change in my life. I lost the drive midway through and never quite got back on track. I was living inside a very fragile, idealistic bubble and I couldn’t break through.

Law school changed that. Here, I feel as if there are unavoidable consequences to my every action. I don’t study to graduate; I study to become a lawyer. I’m not saying that journalism isn’t an important and fulfilling career path; what I’m saying is that I didn’t feel the pull for myself–that thing which would elevate it from a career path to a life commitment. Now, I do.

Plus, the discipline? It’s getting to me. Last week, I read in advance for ObliCon. I bet my college friends would turn their heads at the thought of my studying in advance for a class. I never studied before, let alone read in advance for a class. I was always the crammer. And reading always pulled through in the end for me. That’s not a boast, it’s a matter of fact. Now, I have to concede that cramming really will not work in law school. I have my abysmal midterm grades to back that up.

I posted on Facebook a status message that read, “I will study today”, and you would’ve thought that small pox broke out again. Countless people replied, “Why???” and “WTF?!”. A blockmate even messaged a friend to ask if I was really studying on sembreak. I had to tell people that 1) I was only reading whatever was at hand, 2) while waiting for my downloads to finish, 3) so I wouldn’t sleep, 4) and therefore fix my body clock.

That’s one-half of the truth. The other half is I studied because I don’t want to fail. And you know what, I shouldn’t be embarrassed that I’m doing what I can in order not to get kicked out of law school now that I finally realized I want to stay.

The heat swelters. It’s 5PM, and a tide of people flow through the gates, onto the streets, and into the claps and cheers of friends, brothers, and sisters. Hugs from family. Hand shakes. Kisses. Nobody goes out alone, really. Everybody has somebody to walk with, and there is always someone at the gate waiting for a particular person.

Except this man. He is older than most who are waiting, but he is not the oldest among those who have gone out. His skin is dark from years of hard work, and his face bears the mark of a man who has seen too much and has lived too much. He’s wearing a simple, button-down blue polo shirt, slightly wrinkled, but one can see that it was meticulously ironed at dawn this morning. Together with the shirt, he wears a pair of black slacks that altogether do not fit right. One can see he is an old man. His shoes, on the other hand, are lace-up leather, akin to what a grade school child would wear the first day of school when he forgot to buy new shoes for the new year.

His attire speaks of a somber, old man. His shoes scrape like the embers of a childhood dream. He dressed up for this—to the best of what he is able to do. To him, this day is very special. But his steps echo the tired walk of a man who is out of his depth.

He is alone, which is not unheard of but remarkable. Others like him have passed that long stretch before—one grandfather, and about two men and a woman being pushed in a wheelchair. The people clapped for them. Nobody notices him. He walks slowly, each step by painful step. He doesn’t expect anybody to wait for him, and his eyes, though looking straight ahead, are glazed.

He is passed by others who hurry to the people ready to ease their burden after a taxing day. He lets them. Because he walks a defeated man amongst heavily favored victors. An old person whose prime has clearly passed by him—and he knows it.

Nevertheless, this doesn’t stop him from walking away. So that next week, he can march back to Taft. Bet you, next Sunday, he’ll be there at 5AM. Maybe still alone. With his button-down polo, uncomfortable slacks, and school-day shoes. He’ll be there. Because he has given up so much to reach this far—that to give up a small chance of making so big a change to his life is an insult to all his years of hard work and sacrifice. He must know that out of all the people there, his chance is among the least; however, he will not give up that chance.

He never did, before. He does not plan on doing so now.

And I hope, I really, really pray like I’ve never prayed before, that come November, he will finally get his just reward.

This is more of a plea:

I don’t want to fail finals. ‘Yun lang.

Please, God.