some months ago, a friend and i went to an accoustic night somewhere in mother ignacia. it was actually the reunion of the alliance that we were part of, and we had come as representatives of our organization.

thus, it was no ordinary musical night. there were tables set for everyone and there was food served. on each of the tables were glasses that held large blue candles that illuminated the dark backdrop. the place looked beautiful.

we didn't know most of the people there, though. fortunately, we saw a couple of people from our college and sat with them. we talked, listened to the music, wolfed down our dinner. however, people from our table started leaving at around midnight. though i also wanted to, i couldn't because my dormitory closes at exactly midnight. it was either i go home earlier than that or i spend the night elsewhere.

i stayed, as well as my friend who had decided to accompany me. a couple of hours past midnight, the bands stopped playing and people started going home too. the ones who didn't were just lounging and visiting with each other, but we didn't know them, so we had no choice but to stay in our table.

to fight the urge to sleep, we started playing with the candles. we poured some iced tea into the glass and teased the burning wick of the candle with shreds of paper. it didn't take long before the flame grew bigger and rose way, way up the glass, so that people from other tables started looking our way.

because the flames were getting too big, we feared that the glass might explode, so we started blowing at the flames, but it wouldn't die. we couldn't hold the glass either because it was so hot, so my friend got a cardboard (or a piece of thick cloth, i can't remember now), got hold of the glass, took it from the table, placed it on the floor, and stepped on its mouth. finally, the reluctant flames died.

when he got hold of the glass again to put it back to the table, we were amused to see that only half of it was in his hand. the bottom half was left on the floor. the heat had been too much; it softened the glass enough to be so vulnerable to touch.

when we saw that, we started laughing no end. when the laughter died down, however, we noticed one thing: the broken pieces were beautiful nevertheless.
the borders were rough, but still, they didn't look like a product of two people's stupidity. the bottom half, which held the remains of the candle, looked like those beautiful scented candles and paperweights sold in department stores.

we christened the thing our surreal art. we didn't mean to break the glass, but it got broken somehow. but it didn't come out ugly. i thought about what happened when i got home and even days after, and i realized something.

i myself have been broken many times, but, like that glass, i have discovered that beauty doesn't reside in perfection, in the perfect flow of things. it is born, instead, in the interplay of many colors, bright and dark, in the roar of the storm and in the glow of sunflowers, in the mixture of the good and the bad.

doesn't a painter create a beautiful picture using many colors from his palette? in photography, the most beautiful pictures are those that show the most striking contrasts. my teacher often reminded us that whites will never be whites without the blacks.

i have learned that we cannot control other people's actions and words, but we can control our own reactions to them. thus, we are still in control of everything that happens in our lives. it is difficult, but it can be done.

i have also found comfort in asking "what can i learn from this?" instead of hating and blaming other people. the day i learned to ask that question was the day i learned to soar.

we are all our own masterpeices of art. it is said that a woodcarver doesn't create a figure out of a block of wood. he sees, instead, something inside it and hammers the unnecessary pieces away to discover the beautiful figure already enshrined in the wood. this happens to us too. only, we are our own woodcarvers.

i just wanted to share this wonderful gift that two wonderful people made for me.

take a peek at my birthday blog.

to you both, thank you so much!! *hugs*

wil post a birthday entry later today.. :)

of all the gifts i have, there is one i am most thankful for.

my tears can heal my own wounds; silent, unmoving, and dignified. at night, when the rest of the world sleeps, i do my own healing, so that when i wake up, i can be whole again.

each new morning, out of the ashes, i rise, with my wings stronger, my feathers brighter. thus, like my father jupiter, i shall see no end.

people have been telling me that i lost a lot of weight recently.

i have not seen my ujp friends for only a month, but when i finally did yesterday, kirky exclaimed:

"mukha ka nang drug addict!"

i've also been told that my eyebags have gone darker.

ugh.

do i look that horrible now?

weeeee! i should catch up on a lot of food and sleep. i can't afford to look like a hag on my birthday next week!

i was surfing the internet for news items when... wooooooooosh!

i found these!

in manila times
in abs-cbn
in balita.org

those are reprints of one article i did!

.... and by the country's oldest newspaper and the top (or second top) television network!

weeeeeeeeeee!

i texted my editor right away, who told me that the same article was also translated to filipino by taliba, a sister tabloid of people's journal.

we weren't aware of reprints because, most often, we are not informed. our stories are easily copied because it is easy to get articles from the web.

true enough, my name and our publication was skipped in the third reprint.

on impulse, i wanted to write to their editor and claim it, but on second thought, i didn't, because, as what i had heard my editor say, it would defeat the purpose of public service.

i was told when i joined the publication that this happens to them a lot. some papers are even too thick-faced to put their reporter's name instead of the real writer's. in all those times, they never filed cases, they said.

we can only track reprints from the web, thanks to the search engines (although they are not 100% reliable too), but not in print versions.

so perhaps i may never know where my articles travelled to, i may not be credited properly, but at least i know that i have inspired people through my stories.

that is already enough. :)


*****

early this afternoon, i went to the law center to interview someone for my article.

as i was introducing myself, he said: "yes, i know you. i read your articles."

after an amazing interview (and conversation), he asked me where i wanted to work when i graduate. i told him i wasn't sure yet (because i haven't erased advertising from my list), to which he replied that i should pursue journalism because... (insert flattery here).

and that was from the director of the institute for international legal studies.

isn't that amazing? :)

*****

i have a recent discovery: there lies a lot of power in a press id.

i have held mine for a weeks now, but i have rarely used it before.

now that i am, i realized it could spare me of long lines at offices and checkpoints at congress, that it could make people treat me really special, but best of all, it could turn frowns into beautiful smiles.

my fellow interns left yesterday... all of them.

they're done with internship already.

i'll surely miss them. i'll miss davy's sweetness, nathalie's ready smile, blue's crazy lines, and even arjay's silence.

i'll miss the days we sat on the floor to cut articles from newspapers. i'll miss the times we got lost together, went hungry together and were scolded together for the investigative report. i'll miss the long walks under the sun, the little joys at small victories, the phone calls, the text messages, the nights out.

we've spent less than two weeks together, but what does it matter?

i'll miss them.

*****

here is my article for the week: news on the anti-terrorism bill.

again, i thought that one wouldn't get published because it was plain news. i didn't explain the issue.

our editors worry every saturday which articles to include and which not to, because there are just too many contributions from correspondents.

but my amateurish scribble came out! it could be because the issue was just important, but i'm happy anyway. :)

we've also finished the investigative report last monday. it's coming out soon, so watch out :)

when it's dark and dreary, i close my eyes and think of the lights up in the sky.

i think of how they greet the waking soul with hope each morning, and how they guide the lonely traveler at night.

what great hand must have painted them. i only have to remember their beauty and my world lights up again.

it's not all bliss, but there are some things that i would rather not talk about.

i am disturbed, i have been for a long time now.

but when i stop and think, i realize that there is no option.

maybe i should just write novels.

that way, i can write just about anything i want to, talk to anyone i wish to. or maybe i would just content myself with my journal.

perhaps a life away from politics would bring me peace.