Growing up

Contrary to what many members of my extended maternal family think, when I say I love the Ateneo, it is not meant to gloat or to belittle other people's academic backgrounds. What I mean to say is simply that I am very grateful for the opportunity to have studied at the Ateneo, and to have spent some of the best years of my life there. I grew up, nay, raised myself, at the Ateneo, and I will be forever grateful for having been able to do so under the auspices of the university.

As I expounded in a previous entry, college was an escape for me. When I left Lipa to go to college, it was the beginning of a new chapter for me. I was sixteen, and about to embark on a new life in the (relatively) big city, alone, sans supervision. Only two others from my high school (Sands and Jenna) went to Ateneo, most having gone to DLSU. For all intents and purposes, I had been given a proverbial tabula rasa.

My college experience was not entirely smooth sailing. There were a lot of bumps along the way. My first semester in college, there was that enormous mess of an issue with an essay I wrote for English class which the substitute teacher had published in the Philippine Star without telling me. The short of it is it was intended to be a satire on dorm life which people took the wrong way. It was really bad, but my roommates and other friends from the dorm got me through it.

Towards the end of my freshman year, I decided to shift majors from Philosophy to Legal Management, as I was uneasy about job opportunities for a Philo major after college, and I was yet unsure of our family finances being able to see me through law school.

After my sophomore year, college was in full swing, and to say it was fun would be an understatement. My roommates, my Eliazo batchmates and my blockmates and I had become really good friends by then. I had a little mishmash of a family away from all the stress back home.

Then the summer of 2001 came along, and I met this guy who I'd eventually be "in a relationship" with for a little over two years. It's part of the whole college experience, I guess. I was young, and I thought I was in love. Looking back though, I'm not sure... Out of self-respect, I refuse to expound on the whole thing, but oh boy, if I could get my hands on my 17 to 18-year-old self, I think I'd give myself a good slap. =p The short version is it was a really long and drawn out and messy affair which, looking back, shouldn't have started in the first place, as we really had nothing in common. But hey, I was young and stupid and in college. I was entitled. =p Hey, at least Daddy and Tita Susan no longer lecture on the matter every time we talk. Well fine, they still do. And Chi and Punch still chide me about it too, come to think of it. Lord, pwede ierase? Okay, I think I'll go crawl under a rock now. Anyway, things fell apart two years later when I went to law school and we both moved on to other things, me to becoming a lawyer, and him to his officemate. =p Like I said, it was messy.

Nico, Sands and I have a term for ourselves: Self-raising Children. Just add hot water. I decline to speak for them, but in my case, that couldn't be more true. Save for financial support, I was fully detached and independent from my family. Unlike Chi's parents who called practically every night and sent her care packages every week, some members of my extended family, though they claim that we're a tight-knit group, apparently see keeping in touch as a one-way street, i.e. with me being the only mobile vehicle on the road. And so my friends have become my extended family. As I learned to see things in a new light, to think and discern, and to understand, the more I failed to comprehend. And I was okay with that.

I think a close friend of mine could not have put it more succinctly when she said, it's really sad that we can no longer relate to certain members of the family on the same level. I remember my freshman year English professor, Dr. Tony Ferrer, discussed this very same concept with us during one of our classes. We read this selection from the compilation of a poor boy from the province who was besotted with a girl from one of the influential families in their province. Her family didn't approve, and the girl also looked down on him as he was poor. The smart boy he was, he was able to pursue his studies as a scholar at a prestigious university. When he graduated, he went home to pursue the girl, but found that he could not relate to her intellectually.

It's not that we intend to belittle certain members of the family, but sometimes, they can be very touchy and overly and unecessarily sensitive about certain things, and just telling them about our day somehow gets interpreted as looking down on someone. Mob mentality adds insult to injury. All I can say is first of all, I am a long shot from being rich. I get by, that's all. I try to save and to be financially responsible, but that's it. I try to help out the best I can with what little I have, but I guess sometimes people take it the wrong way. Yes, I'm also entitled to get irritated, and to get mad. I don't think it's a character flaw on my part that I clam up and keep to myself when I'm irritable, irritated or annoyed. I try my best not to let my emotions get in the way so I don't say or do things fueled by fleeting anger. That's how my mom raised me, and that's how I am. I was trained not to shout, to throw a tantrum or even to cry in public. My mom underscored the importance of keeping one's emotions in check especially when in the presence of other people, and never to exhibit signs of anger or sadness in public just to attract attention to oneself. When I was a kid, if I wasn't in the best of moods, I was told to go to my room and resurface when I no longer felt like dealing with the world like an asshole, although of course not in those words. My mom said, for instance, that if I really wanted to cry, then I should do it in the privacy of my room, and when I was done, to wash my face and come out presentable. She lived what she preached too. In the short span of time I spent with my mom, I never once saw her lose her cool in public.


All that having been said, I am blessed to have mended my relationship with my dad, and to have reconnected with Tita Susan. While I have drifted apart from certain members of the family due to fundamental differences, I have also learned to understand and to see others in a new light. There are certain things that my sixteen-year-old self could not comprehend. What I saw as character flaws when I was younger, I now recognize to be simple personal quirks, which, if I may say so, are actually kind of cute.

And that, my dear friends, is the overly abbreviated version of the adventure, the pain, the excitement, the thrill, and the challenge of my experience of growing up. And the fact that I'm still sane and able to process and comprehend all these things in my own way in spite of everything is precisely why I am thankful to the Ateneo.

Weddings and holidays

Christmas somehow tends to bring out the best and the worst that Manila has to offer. On one hand, the temperature drops, and the normally searing heat of urban decay becomes more bearable. Christmas trees, lights, Santa figures and sleighs come out, and carols play everywhere. The spirit of Christmas even makes work seem more enjoyable than usual. On the other hand, traffic comes to a virtual standstill with the deluge of millions of shoppers rushing to meet their self-imposed deadlines. Today, for instance, it took us more than two hours to get from Padre Faura to Kalayaan in Quezon City. Que perdido de tiempo. 

The flipside of the horrible horrible holiday traffic is I got to spend time with two of my favorite people in the world: Chi and Ngangi. (Uuuuy flattered! May bayad na 'to ha.) I'm oddly relieved they're both moving back to Manila after something like three years in Singapore. These two gremlins are like sisters to me, and I'm really happy they're back. Ngangi now has a place of her own, although it's not yet fully paid, and is now vice president (Ngangs, pinagkakalat ko na ha.) of one of the biggest BPO's here. Galing, diba? I'm so happy for her. She deserves everything she's accomplished. (Clap clap clap.) 

I met Ngangi the summer before my sophomore year in college,  and she was in the AJSS program at the Ateneo. She took over Tanya's corner for the summer, and I was equally shocked and impressed to see someone reading the classics for fun. A year later, Ngangi moved into Eliazo and became a regular visitor in Room 305, then in Unit 403 at that little hole in the wall behind Pizza Hut that we rented for a year, then Unit 615 in Prince David. I saw her struggle to find her sea legs in her first few years out of college. I saw her scared and heartbroken, and stressed over her move to Singapore. Well, Ngangi and Buyang are back, and they now have a home to call their own. 

As for Chi, well. What can I say. First, she's insane. Second, she's gotten me into trouble so many times. Third, she's seen me through my innumerable life crises and mood swings, and we're still friends. One simply cannot put a price tag on a friendship that has survived having to clean up someone else's puke, with Carmi and I passed out drunk and involuntarily puking on ourselves on the floor of Tanya's condo after having shared an entire bottle of tequila. I don't think any of us have ever even considered eating Chicharitos after THAT episode. 

I remember this conversation we had in a cab on our way back home from Eastwood a few years back. We said, the best thing about our friendship is we never feel compelled to talk. It's such a shame we lost touch with Tanya and Carmi after college. I'm really happy though that in the midst of kicking unwanted roommates and bouts of family drama, Chi and I are still friends.

A few hours from now, we'll be hosting Chi's bachelorette party, a little less than two weeks before the big wedding. I generally don't believe in marriage, but I think this one will be different. This one will most definitely work. I don't think I've seen two people more perfect for each other. And of all the weddings I've been to, this is the one I'm most proud to be part of. Maybe it's because both these crazy kids are good friends of mine, and despite what other people may say, they're both good people, and I know for a fact that they really sincerely love each other. Of course I'm extremely biased, because I've been rooting for these crazy kids from day one. =p

So anyway, have to go sleep now. My errand list this month just keeps on growing.  

Weddings and unrelated nostalgia

My best friend from high school got married yesterday. Aside from the obvious stress of being a bridesmaid, what kept nagging me were, one, the expected awkwardness when I ran into old friends, teachers, neighbors, acquaintances and whatnot, and two, and the palpable excitement at the prospect of catching up with them.

When I left Lipa in 1999 and started my first year of college at the Ateneo, I was sixteen; in hindsight, no more than a child, albeit with a bit more baggage than most. It was the happiest day of my life in six years. Finally, I was free. Finally, I was out from under my father's roof, and though I was a minor and under his protection and control, I had what, to my sixteen-year-old self, seemed like the culmination of six years' worth of tear-filled heartfelt pleas to a higher form of life, to an unseen deity, to get me out of there.

My mom had died under suspicious circumstances six years earlier, and my brother and I had been left with our least favorite parent by default. Even without the egging proof of my father's relatives' involvement in my mom's death, we hated them. In fact, to this day, I still refer to them as just that: my father's relatives. They were mean, in fact downright hateful, and at some point, to my mom, utterly criminal. We begged and begged to be sent to live in Baguio with my mom's family, but to no avail. We got a few weeks in the summer, and if we we pestered my dad enough, we got a few days around the semestral break. The rest of the year, we counted days to our next escape. Those days were occupied primarily by school, to which I devoted my entire childhood. It was key to breaking myself out of jail, and I worked and slaved at it day and night until I finished high school.

Aside from the rigors of matriculation and extracurricular activities, there were the daily doses of stress that living in a rather large clan who lived in adjacent houses in the province brought about. People walked in and out of the house at random intervals, borrowing a plate here, a glass there, raiding the fridge of what little it contained. We ran out of glasses, china and silver at multiple points because those who "borrowed" never bothered to return them. Not even when we were served at their houses with the same objects we knew were ours.

Oh, and we got dragged to endless "family" events. The 100th birthday of a distant uncle who, to this day, I have no idea how we were related to. The much-anticipated fiestas. Random birthdays. People passing licensure exams. There, we would have to plaster fake smiles on our faces at random strangers who were introduced as Tia this or Tio that. We had to raise the back of their hands to our foreheads in the mano, which my mom's family, who'd we'd grown up with prior to her death, did not practice. I always found the gesture odd. I was more comfortable with the single hug and peck on the cheek I'd been accustomed to. But then again, I had no intention of hugging and kissing random strangers, related or not, so I stuck to tradition and did the whole mano thing a hundred times over. I reluctantly picked out a few dishes to stuff my plate with and sat down in the farthest corner, away from prying eyes and the neighborhood chismosas, who would scan everyone for something worth gossiping about. I'd wait until it was time to leave. I'd trace cracks in the floor, in the ceiling, or focus my attention on a random detail in the room, working out the details. I'd play with numbers or letters in my head. Anything to pass the time.

That was the easy part.

The hardest part was always having to talk to them. We had nothing in common. And I had not developed my knack for making smalltalk with random strangers. My dad's nuclear family and their respective nuclear families, are a notch above the rest. In fact, I believe I may be generalizing based on the model of their existence. I remember the day of my dad's wedding to my stepmom, she sat me down at my paternal grandmother's house, and asked me to give my paternal side a chance, to get to know them. I looked at her and said blankly, “No. I didn't like them when I was a child. And I do not like them now. I see no need to change that.”

But I digress.

The idea of college as an escape had been planted my brain by my maternal family, as a beacon of hope in those days when I really did hate my life. My relationship with my dad has mended itself over the years, but we do not share the warm close relationship that my friends do with their dads. When I was younger, I used to loathe him silly, call him the evil engineer (because he's a civil engineer). My mom was a very warm, caring, and eloquently affectionate person. That's what we were used to. When she died suddenly one Thursday morning, we were thrust into this alien world where we got no hugs. We got no kisses. We got a verbal beating when our grades dropped a point. We were on an assembly line headed for insanity. All day everyday we were compared to his friends' children, who, he said, at our age, could run a household by themselves. At that point, I couldn't even sweep a floor properly. I had just turned nine, and using the rice cooker was a great achievement for me.

And thus I learned to despise the accent, the manner of speaking, the way they dressed, how the looked, and how they smelled. Life there was a long battle with chronic stress and those random incidents that manage to drop in along the way. I think I only got through it because I chose my friends well. And I had adults who probably saw through what was going on and took me under their wing. Aside from my maternal family, which had not yet thoroughly degenerated at that point, from gradeschool, I had Dianne, and at some point, Lira. My childhood mentors, Sands' aunt, Teacher Susan, Teacher Aileen, Teacher Myrna, to name a few. It was a small town. Word got around. They knew my life inside and out, and didn't judge me for it. Come high school, I met Sands, Kiel, Ate Karen, and the rest of my high school barkada (including Dianne). On an intellectual level, Sir Torrecampo was the best, but Ma'am Latay has always been a cut above the rest. Maybe it was because she was my English teacher, and I took my essays and short stories to heart. I took every assignment seriously, and every piece was a part of me. These people made an unbearable childhood enjoyable. They got me through the worst part, and made me smile through it.

The day I graduated, I remember my high school world history teacher, Sir Torrecampo, tell us to look around the room at the people seated next to us, as that would probably be the last time we would see each other. At that time, I shook my head and smiled, thinking to myself that incredulous to think so. Well, here I am eleven years later, to attest to the hyperbolic truth.

Over the years, I've fallen out of touch with most of the people I owe my relative sanity to. I see Sands every two months or so. I see Kiel about twice a year. Before last night, I hadn't seen Ma'am Latay, Dianne, and my high school barkada since, well, high school. Teacher Susan I hadn't seen or talked to for so long I can't even recall the last time.

While it pains me to realize that when I sought the escape hatch to Ateneo, I left so many people behind. Looking back though, I see why I had to do it. And I would do it again. I had to leave Lipa to pursue a higher education, to learn to forget as a precursor to eventual forgiveness, and to mend my relationship with my dad. College and succeeding years bore a myriad of other different dilemmas of another nature, but those years also brought about another set of friends I am very blessed to have.

I still do not feel comfortable spending extended periods of time in Lipa because of the innumerable bad memories that plague my association with the city. But there may well be hope for us yet. As for the manangs with their apple-cut hair though, nah, probably not.

Back online.

So after 10 million years, I'm finally back online. I just got a netbook earlier tonight. I'm actually saving up for a Mac, but since my life is in dire need of a technological boost, I decided to get a netbook to tide me over. So I took Punch's advice. At least when I get a Macbook, I'll have this netbook for travel or whatever, and the Macbook can be my desktop replacement at home. Better than having two notebooks, right? And I love my little Acer. Reminds me of my old little Acer, the one that I used all throughout law school. That little guy was pretty sturdy. It's still alive actually, but I don't use it anymore because the resolution's so bad, and it runs on Windows 98. So anyway, I hope this one lives a long and fruitful life.

Planning a trip to Spain

I kinda figured my research might be able to help other people planning a trip to Spain as well. So here are some useful links that I’ve chanced upon. I’ll post draft itineraries as this Spain trip comes together. Enjoy. =)

http://www.frommers.com/destinations/spain/0242010002.html

http://gospain.about.com/od/suggesteditineraries/qt/madriddesign.htm 

http://www.fodors.com/news/story_3062.html

http://travel.yahoo.com/trip-journal-356198-six_days_in_spain

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/141726/planning_a_firsttime_trip_to_spain.html

http://www.travelmuse.com/destinations/ES/00-spain

http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/08-08/planning-a-trip-to-spain-with-the-help-of-the-internet.html

http://www.ehow.com/how_4617911_plan-trip-spain.html

http://www.ricksteves.com/plan/destinations/spain/spain_menu.htm
   
See:     http://www.ricksteves.com/plan/destinations/spain/spain22.htm

           http://www.ricksteves.com/plan/destinations/spain/itin_spainport.htm

For Rent: NJ just across Manhattan

On a side note, I'm posting this for my friend:

For Rent: NJ just across Manhattan

Looking for roommates! Place is a bus ride away from Manhattan and bus stop right in front! I have 2 rooms, each room can fit 2-3 people. Preferably female! Just message me here!

Q&A With The Boys

Q&A With The Boys

PLANE FEST ENROUTE TO MADRID!

PLANE FEST ENROUTE TO MADRID!

And the shit has hit the fan.

Just when I thought I had a good thing going for me, I find myself shoved into yet another crisis not of my own making. To cut the long story short, it seems to me that I’ll have to move again soon. Yes, my dad is going to kill me. Yes, this was NOT part of the budget. Yes, I HAVE been trying to save. Yes, I DID already map out my budget for the next year. And NO, I did NOT know nor did I foresee that I would have an unwanted third housemate (who, I might add, does not share in any expense) when I took up my friend’s offer to move in with her. I’ve tried to be open-minded about it. I’ve tried to keep mum about the whole thing. But I really cannot stand the situation. And I cannot keep on living like this.

And all I can say is: SHIT.

AND because I never anticipated having to move so soon, I didn’t set aside that much cash for the initial cash out. I did not sign up for this. I never would have, had I known. I was perfectly happy in my little hole in the wall in Salcedo Village. Yes, it was small and kinda expensive. But I was happy there.

Now it’s not just the expense that’s literally keeping me awake. The whole thought of having to pack (again) and organize the move (again)…it’s such a daunting and unbelievably stressful feat I do NOT have time for. Hello, I don’t even have time to look for an apartment. I have to draft a gazillion decisions by the end of the month! And now THIS??? How I’m going to work this out, I have no idea.

At this point, I don’t think anyone will hold it against me if I’m just fuming mad, irritated, disgusted and the whole shebang. Not good. Not good at all.

Happy pill please...

The past week has been a bit of a drag for me. After being perenially sick since before Christmas, Mama had a mild stroke last Friday. She spent two days in the ICU, and another three in a regular room under observation. She was discharged Wednesday afternoon. I've been commuting back and forth since then. Before that, I was more or less based in Laguna for four months, from late December to late April. After this latest stint, I was able to return to the apartment yesterday afternoon.

Saturday, my cousin got sick and had to go to the hospital.

My tita, my mom's eldest sister, has leukemia. Her first child is being so mean, to put things lightly. Her second child died. Her youngest son is doing drugs. One of her twin granddaughters died. The other twin was taken from her. Her husband is perenially absent.

My uncle, my mom's youngest brother, also heart as heart problem. He had to be operated on recently.

My brother is still in Neverneverland, with no sure chance of recovery.

My mom's other brothers are both in Houston and are stuck there because of their jobs.

And my mom's dead. And I seem to have been thrust into her place as problem solver of sorts. Well, in theory, that is. I can barely deal with my own issues, no matter how trivial they are, much less my extended family's infinitely more complex and deep-rooted problems.

It seriously feels like some sick bug has hit the family. And it sucks. And it's not just the health problems. It's all sorts of shit. Talk about Murphy's Law. Thing is, in our case, bad luck doesn't seem to come in threes. More like three hundreds. It's so exhausting. I mean, it's not like I don't care. It's because I do that listening to everyone's ills weighs me down so much. Seems I've been empathizing too much and too deeply. As I told Nico earlier, I love my family and all, but sometimes being around them is a little toxic. Seems like nothing ever goes smoothly for more than a few days, sometimes hours, at a time. When you think you've gotten over one bump, another bigger one comes along. On top of the mid-sized stones along the way. I need a few days to detox. At the rate I'm going, I'm going to have a major heart attack at and die at 30.

Thus the title.

Biñan sucks.

I swear, if I wasn't attempting to be good (or at least as good as I can be before blowing my brains out), I'd steer the hell away from this place. It's unbelievably hot. The place looks like it did thirteen years ago. (The only exceptions being the Jollibee and Ministop at the corner. And that Chinese restaurant. Although they're technically part of Carmona, I think.) And now, my God, the entire village water supply has gone kaput. I am not kidding. NO WATER. Sheesh.


Add all these things up, plus the human temper factor, and it's like a gunpowder factory waiting to blow up in everyone's face. I think I'll pack up my stuff and attempt to work in the apartment. B or no B, I pay rent. I'm entitled to be there. I'll just ignore the hell out of him. I really need to save up and get my own apartment.

Hello blog.

Upon the prodding of the now tech-savvy Mary Trish, I now have a new blog on Tumblr. Follow me at http://attorneybyaccident.tumblr.com.

Sublessor wanted

I'm moving out of my 27 sq.m. studio at Alfaro Place in Makati City by the end of March. It's an inner unit at the 4th floor, which is great, because it's never dusty or noisy or hot. Rent is 11k, exclusive of utilities and association dues. You canwalk to practically anywhere in Salcedo Village (and even Legaspi Village / Greenbelt if the sun isn't too glaringly hot). It's right across from Velasquez (aka Salcedo) Park, and there's a Starbucks and a Coffee Bean within a 3-minute distance. I'm moving in with a college friend by the end of March. Lemme know if you're interested. =)

Clarification

I don't know who squealed, but I hope you rot in hell, you moron. Nothing's even final yet. I haven't decided. I haven't done anything. So if I get called in because of you, I am going to track you down and kill you.

Hello blog.

I cannot believe these Rules were amended in 2007 and I didn't know until earlier today when one of the partners circulated a memo on the amendments to Rule 65. These are substantial amendments, mind you. So, lawyer friends, please take note. I underlined the amendments for ease of reference. Well, at least I tried to, as much as possible. Hope this helps.


A.M. No. 07-7-12-SC
AMENDMENTS TO RULES 41, 45, 58 AND 65 OF THE RULES OF COURT

RULE 41

Section 1. Subject of appeal. An appeal may be taken from a judgment or final order that completely disposes of the case, or of a particular matter therein when declared by these Rules to be appealable.

No appeal may be taken from:

(Ed.: Note that these used to be enumerated (a) to (h). Par. (a) which read "An order denying a petition for relief or any similar motion seeking relief from judgment" was taken out of the provision.)

1. An order denying a petition for relief or any similar motion seeking relief from judgment;
2. An interlocutory order;
3. An order disallowing or dismissing an appeal;
4. An order denying a motion to set aside a judgment by consent, confession or compromise on the ground of fraud, mistake or duress, or any other ground vitiating consent;
5. An order of execution;
6. A judgment or final order for or against one or more of several parties or in separate claims, counterclaims, cross-claims and third-party complaints, while the main case is pending, unless the court allows an appeal therefrom; and
7. An order dismissing an action without prejudice.

In any of the foregoing circumstances, the aggrieved party may file an appropriate special civil action as provided in Rule 65.

RULE 45

Section 1. Filing of petition with Supreme Court. A party desiring to appeal by certiorari from a judgment, final order or resolution of the Court of Appeals, the Sandiganbayan, the Court of Tax Appeals, the Regional Trial Court or other courts, whenever authorized by law, may file with the Supreme Court a verified petition for review on certiorari. The petition may include an application for a writ of preliminary injunction or other provisional remedies and shall raise only questions of law, which must be distinctly set forth. The petitioner may seek the same provisional remedies by verified motion filed in the same action or proceeding at any time during its pendency.

RULE 58

Sec. 5. Preliminary injunction not granted without notice; exception. No preliminary injunction shall be granted without hearing and prior notice to the party or persons sought to be enjoined. If it shall appear from facts shown by affidavits or by the verified application that great or irreparable injury would result to the applicant before the matter can be heard on notice, the court to which the application for preliminary injunction was made, may issue ex parte a temporary restraining order to be effective only for a period of twenty (20) days from service on the party or person sought to be enjoined, except as herein provided. Within the twenty-day period, the court must order said party or person to show cause at a specified time and place, why the injunction should not be granted. The court shall also determine, within the same period, whether or not the preliminary injunction shall be granted, and accordingly issue the corresponding order.

However, subject to the provisions of the preceding sections, if the matter is of extreme urgency and the applicant will suffer grave injustice and irreparable injury, the executive judge of a multiple-sala court or the presiding judge of a single-sala court may issue ex parte a temporary restraining order effective for only seventy-two (72) hours from issuance, but shall immediately comply with the provisions of the next preceding section as to service of summons and the documents to be served therewith. Thereafter, within the aforesaid seventy-two (72) hours, the judge before whom the case is pending shall conduct a summary hearing to determine whether the temporary restraining order shall be extended until the application for preliminary injunction can be heard. In no case shall the total period of effectivity of the temporary restraining order exceed twenty (20) days, including the original seventy-two hours provided herein.

In the event that the application for preliminary injunction is denied or not resolved within the said period, the temporary restraining order is deemed automatically vacated. The effectivity of a temporary restraining order is not extendible without need of any judicial declaration to that effect, and no court shall have authority to extend or renew the same on the same ground for which it was issued.

However, if issued by the Court of Appeals or a member thereof, the temporary restraining order shall be effective for sixty (60) days from service on the party or person sought to be enjoined. A restraining order issued by the Supreme Court or a member thereof shall be effective until further orders.

The trial court, the Court of Appeals, the Sandiganbayan or the Court of Tax Appeals that issued a writ of preliminary injunction against a lower court, board, officer, or quasi-judicial agency shall decide the main case or petition within six (6) months from the issuance of the writ.

RULE 65

Sec. 4. When and where to file the petition. The petition shall be filed not later than sixty (60) days from notice of the judgment, order or resolution. In case a motion for reconsideration or new trial is timely filed, whether such motion is required or not, the petition shall be filed not later than sixty (60) days counted from the notice of the denial of the motion.

If the petition relates to an act or an omission of a municipal trial court or of a corporation, a board, an officer or a person, it shall be filed with the Regional Trial Court exercising jurisdiction over the territorial area as defined by the Supreme Court. It may also be filed with the Court of Appeals or with the Sandiganbayan, whether or not the same is in aid of the courts appellate jurisdiction. If the petition involves an act or an omission of a quasi-judicial agency, unless otherwise provided by law or these rules, the petition shall be filed with and be cognizable only by the Court of Appeals.

In election cases involving an act or an omission of a municipal or a regional trial court, the petition shall be filed exclusively with the Commission on Elections, in aid of its appellate jurisdiction.

Sec. 7. Expediting proceedings; injunctive relief. The court in which the petition is filed may issue orders expediting the proceedings, and it may also grant a temporary restraining order or a writ of preliminary injunction for the preservation of the rights of the parties pending such proceedings. The petition shall not interrupt the course of the principal case, unless a temporary restraining order or a writ of preliminary injunction has been issued, enjoining the public respondent from further proceeding with the case.

The public respondent shall proceed with the principal case within ten (10) days from the filing of a petition for certiorari with a higher court or tribunal, absent a temporary restraining order or a preliminary injunction, or upon its expiration. Failure of the public respondent to proceed with the principal case may be a ground for an administrative charge.

Sec. 8. Proceedings after comment is filed. After the comment or other pleadings required by the court are filed, or the time for the filing thereof has expired, the court may hear the case or require the parties to submit memoranda. If, after such hearing or filing of memoranda or upon the expiration of the period for filing, the court finds that the allegations of the petition are true, it shall render judgment for such relief to which the petitioner is entitled. (Ed.: The old provision stated that the court shall render judgment for the relief prayed for or to which the petitioner is entitled.)

However, the court may dismiss the petition if it finds the same patently without merit or prosecuted manifestly for delay, or if the questions raised therein are too unsubstantial to require consideration. In such event, the court may award in favor of the respondent treble costs solidarily against the petitioner and counsel, in addition to subjecting counsel to administrative sanctions under Rules 139 and 139-B of the Rules of Court.

The Court may impose motu proprio, based on res ipsa loquitur, other disciplinary sanctions or measures on erring lawyers for patently dilatory and unmeritorious petitions for certiorari.

(Ed.: Moral of the story: Careful what you file. You just might get it. Hehe! Anyway, enough about the serious stuff. I'm hungry. And it's Gossip Girl night. Bye all! I'll post something more remotely interesting next time.)

Free Laundry for Ondoy Victims

Bits and Snippets of the Philippines
Free Laundry for Victims of Typhoon Ondoy

Posted in Aid and Assistance by Raffy Pekson II on October 3, 2009

Below is a message relayed through the Facebook Group “Philippine Renaissance International Movement.”

In summary, typhoon victims, local government units, non-profit organizations and other groups involved in relief operations may send their dirty laundry to:

Kalinisan Steam Laundry, Inc.
No. 10 Manggahan Street, Bagumbayan, Libis, Quezon City
Tel. No. 635-0601 to 05 local 128
Mobile No. 0917-890-9577 (look for Alex Malco)
Mobile No. 0917-859-1917 (look for Espie Ditablan)
Mobile No. 0917-893-6630 (look for Atty. Raul Lambino)
============ ========= ========= ========= ========= =====

Today October 3, 2009, in a lunch meeting with my client MR. WYDEN KING, owner of KALINISAN STEAM LAUNDRY, INC., one of the biggest industrial laundry company in the country that serves various big establishments like hotels, hospitals, & garment factories, he has told me that KALINISAN is offering FREE LAUNDRY & WASHING of all clothing materials (linens, bedsheets, pants, shirts, dresses, etc.) to all victims of typhoon Ondoy in Marikina, Quezon City, Cainta, Pasig, Taguig, Antipolo City and other areas in NCR, Rizal & Southern Tagalog. He instructed me to help disseminate this information so Kalinisan can immediately serve our people.

After the meeting, I immediately called up Mayor Mon Ilagan of Cainta, Rizal about this development and texted various friends in the media. Then I went to the Kalinisan warehouse at No. 10 Manggahan St., Bagumbayan, Libis, Quezon City where the factory is situated and conferred with the people in charge of the operations. I saw some dirty clothings already arriving from numerous victims and even saw more than 500 people-evacuees who are comfortably housed at the Kalinisan warehouse and supplied with foods, water and other needs mostly from Mrs. Peachy King, wife of Mr. Wyden King. Their condition is much-much better of than those who are now in other evacuation centers.We enjoin the concerned LGUs, government agencies, NGO’s , foundations, other individuals and the victims themselves to bring to Kalinisan such cloth items if theY have the logistics to do so, or coordinate with their respective LGUs how we can effectively carry out this mission.

You can get in touch directly to Kalinisan by calling or texting these numbers:

Tels. 6350601 to 05 local 128; CP # 0917-8909577 look for ALEX MALCO; or 0917-8591917 look for ESPIE DITABLAN. Likewise, you may call or text me at 09178936630.

Please pass this Note to others & let us do our little share in helping and uniting our nation by alleviating the plight of those who are most in need at such kind of moment. God bless us all.

ATTY RAUL LAMBINO

Yellow

I was barely a year old when Ninoy Aquino was assassinated in August of 1983. I was a toddler when millions of people flocked to EDSA and reclaimed democracy for the Philippines. Why, one might ask, am I so affected by the death of former President Cory Aquino?

My mom (God bless her soul.) was a classic idealist of her generation. To my lolo’s great frustration, she, like many of her peers, was a student activist in her youth. She and several friends founded an organization that later became one of the better known student activist groups. They used the basement of my grandfather’s company as their meeting place, their makeshift headquarters. When the military heard of this budding movement, plans were made to alleviate the potential thorn. As luck would have it, my lolo had a close friend from way back who happened to be a highly-regarded general. Having heard of the planned raid within minutes of the actual deployment of soldiers, he promptly phoned my lolo to warn him. My lolo had all papers, paraphernalia and other materials in the basement that could be traced to my mom be burned or otherwise destroyed. My mom was promptly sent to distant relatives in far-flung Gumaca, Quezon, which, if you’ve been there, is almost literally in the middle of nowhere. Quezon being NPA country, was a relatively safe place to hide, at least until things in Manila died down.

When I was young, my mom and I used to go through her old photos from college, and she would always tear up when she showed me pictures of her friends who died or disappeared during Martial Law. One friend of hers, a tall, fair-skinned, rather frail-looking girl, was imprisoned for activist activities, and died in prison. That was not the worst part. My mom told me, her voice cracking, that her friend was gang-raped by prison guards, and at some point, withdrew into insanity when she could no longer take the pain. She later hung herself in the same cell that had borne witness to the vile, despicable acts that had driven her to seek refuge in herself.

My mom had strong political beliefs, and would never back down when opposed. Prior to the 1992 elections, I remember my mom and my dad had a rather heated argument over who to vote for. My mom was a strong Salonga supporter, and staunchly opposed my dad’s politics. My mom valued her right to suffrage, and felt it was her responsibility to thoroughly discern who would best serve the country. My dad, well, at the time, I remember him saying that he would vote for this or that candidate based on how he thought HE would benefit. And there the great debate came to a screeching halt. Enter the war that my dad should have realized he had no chance of winning.

In the fashion that my lolo raised them, my mom did her best to teach us to speak not only when spoken to. Opinions were made to be expressed. Beliefs were made to be acted upon. We were punished for transgresses, but not before we explained at great length why we did what we did, and were made to understand why we were being punished.

When I was in college, I remember having heard at a forum that our generation, compared to our parents’, was essentially a generation of spoiled brats with no balls, so to speak. We had never had to live through a war, to fight for suffrage, to help overthrow a dictatorship, to face real political struggle, had not voiced any real dissent, and if one really thinks about it, it IS true. Our grandparents had the Second World War. Our great-grandparents had the First. Our parents had both the Vietnam War AND Martial Law.

It was in the context of this debate about whether our generation did have balls that EDSA 2 came around. Although I can only speak for those I know personally, and for those whom I had the opportunity to talk to during those several days we spent in the midst of a growing throng of people, I think it would be accurate to say that we thought we were doing a great thing, standing up for what was right and just, actively fighting against what we believed was a corrupt and immoral regime. We were a generation of idealists, albeit a more tech-savvy one.

I do not regret having participated then. I DO regret the circumstances that we somehow thrust the country into post-EDSA 2. Looking back, I find myself appalled at how such an opportunity for change was somehow manipulated into the concentration of political power in an administration that in my mind ranks second only to Marcos. Or maybe even rivals the Marcos years, if some political analysts are to be believed.

Although I was too young to know my politics all that well, it seems to me that every single president since Cory Aquino has been besieged with not unfounded charges of graft and corruption, of that dreaded Filipino affliction called padrino politics. I am sure that the Aquino administration was far from perfect. However, compared to her successors, Cory Aquino seems to me fairly unmarred by such charges. I sincerely doubt that (knock on wood) if any of her successors dies, any of them will be accorded the same respect, reverence, even, that has been given to Cory Aquino. Ironic, isn’t it, how drastically different, completely opposite, even, the two female presidents of the Philippines have turned out to be? The lady with the rosary in yellow, and the...um, gremlin. With a mole.

On a personal note, Cory’s death brings to the fore the excruciating ordeal of having lost my mom, whose death left a void that will never be filled. These thoughts come dangerously close to the death of my dear cousin Francis, who lost his life in a violent vehicular accident three months ago. With all that, my great fondness for Mama, my lola, who turned 80 last month, only serves to heighten the emotions that have been surging since I started watching the tv coverage of Cory Aquino’s affliction with cancer, her battle with the dreaded disease, and her eventual demise.

Right now, I am watching the ABS-CBN documentary Laban Ni Cory on Channel 2, which is as much a documentary on Martial Law and the EDSA People Power movement as it is about Cory Aquino. Nakakakilabot. That’s the only word that can describe it, particularly when they play Magkaisa and Handog ng Pilipino sa Mundo. It provides a glimpse at how great the people of this country can be, and how far a people united can go. This is the precise opposite of how most people I know feel, i.e. willing to swap their Filipino citizenship for another without batting an eyelash. Or, at the very least, to seek refuge, emotional, spiritual, financial or otherwise, in a foreign land.

I do not know how far Cory Aquino’s death will affect the current clamor for good governance and for political change, if any will come around at all. I do not know in what capacity, if at all, this will serve as a catalyst for things to come. However, all being said and done, I just hope that everything that our parents fought for, that all those lives that were sacrificed for the sake of that vague concept called democracy, will not go to waste. As much as I was an idealist then, I acknowledge now that such idealism fades. Left to its own vices, a candle will eventually burn out.

As I have prayed for all my loved ones who have gone ahead to what I hope is a better place, I pray for the repose of the soul of the former president, who, although I never knew her, was somehow able to touch my life in a way that very few have. I pray for her family, who are going through the most painful experience of losing a loved one.

Lastly, for all out sakes, I pray that it will not be necessary to move on to the next life to get to a better place.

Please read.

I got this from Heidi. Please pass to your UP friends.

Paying It Back for Mang Meliton a.k.a "Mang Milton"
Posted by Mike on Dec 26, '08 10:06 PM

Meet Meliton Zamora, a retired University of the Philippines

janitor and my hero.

For forty-five years, he swept floors, cleaned up trash, watered plants and did odd jobs at the University.

I met him when I was active with the UP Repertory Company, a theater group based (then) at the third floor lobby of the Arts & Sciences (AS) building. He would sweep and mop the hallway floors in silence, venturing only a nod and a smile whenever I passed him.

Back then, for me he was just one of those characters whom you got acquainted with and left behind as soon as you earned your degree and left the university for some big job in the real world. Someone whose name would probably ring a bell but whose face you'd have a hard time picturing. But for many UP students like me who were hard up and had a difficult time paying their tuition fees, Mang Mel was a hero who gave them the opportunity to finish university and get a big job in the real world.

The year was 1993 and I was on my last semester as a Clothing Technology student. My parents had been down on their luck and were struggling to pay for my tuition fee. I had been categorized as Bracket 9 in the recently implemented Socialized Tuiton and Financial Assistance Program (STFAP). My father had lost his job and to supplement my allowance, I worked part time as a Guest Relations Officer at Sam's Diner (back when the term GRO didn't have shady undertones) and took some odd jobs as a Production Assistant, movie extra and wardrobe mistress.

To be eligible for graduation, I had to enroll in my last three courses and pay my tuition fee. Since my parents didn't have enough money for my matriculation, I applied for a student loan hoping that my one of my Home Economics (HE) professors would take pity on me and sign on as a guarantor for the student loan. But those whom I approached either refused or were not eligible as guarantors. After two unsuccessful weeks of looking for a guarantor, my prospects looked dim, my future dark. And so, there I was, a downtrodden twenty year old with a foggy future, crying in the AS lobby. I only had twenty four hours left to look for a guarantor.

Mang Mel, with a mop in hand, approached me and asked me why I was crying. I told him I had no guarantor for my student loan and will probably not be able to enroll this semester. I had no hopes that he would be able to help me. After all, he was just a janitor. He borrowed my loan application papers and said softly, "Puwede ako pumirma. Empleyado ako ng UP." He borrowed my pen and signed his name. With his simple act of faith, Mang Mel not only saved my day, he also saved my future.

I paid my student loan the summer after that fateful day with Mang Milton and it has been 15 years since then. I am not filthy rich but I do have a good job in the real world that allows me to support my family and eat three meals a day. A few weeks ago, a friend and UP Professor, Daki, told me that Mang Mel recently recorded an album which he sells to supplement his meager retirement pay, I asked another friend, Blaise, who's taking his Master's degree at UP to find out how we could contact Mang Mel. My gesture of gratitude for Mang Mel's altruism has been long overdue. As fate would have it, my friend saw Mang Mel coming out of the shrubbery from behind the UP library, carrying firewood. He got Mang Mel's address and promised him that we would come over to buy his album.

Together with Blaise and my husband Augie, I went to pay Mang Mel a visit last Sunday. Unfortunately, he was out doing a little sideline gardening for a UP professor in Tandang Sora. We were welcomed into their home by his daughter Kit. As she pointed out to a laminated photo of Mang Mel on the wall, she proudly told us that her father did retire with recognition from the University. However, she sadly related to us that many of the students whose loans Mang Mel guaranteed neglected to settle their student loans. After forty-five years of service to the University, Mang Mel was only attributed 171 days of work for his retirement pay because all the unpaid student loans were deducted from his full retirement pay of about 675 days. This seems to me a cruel repayment for his kindness.

This is a cybercall to anyone who did not get to pay their student loans that were guaranteed by Mang Mel. Anytime would be a good time to show Mang Mel your gratitude.

Mang Mel is not asking for a dole out, though I know he will be thankful for any assistance you can give. So I ask those of you who also benefited from Mang Meliton's goodness or for those who simply wish to share your blessings, please do visit Mang Mel and buy his CD (P350 only) at No. 16-A, Block 1, Pook Ricarte, U.P. Campus, Diliman, Quezon City (behind UP International House) or contact his daughter Kit V. Zamora at 0916-4058104.

Baka kilala niyo.

Long weekends for 2009

Time to plan ahead, book in advance, plot your leave, etcetera,

April 9 - 13, Thursday to Monday - Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Araw ng Kagitingan (Bataan and Corregidor day) (5 days)

May 1 - 3, Friday to Sunday - Labor Day (3 days)

June 12 - 14, Friday to Sunday - Independence Day (3 days)

August 22 - 24, Saturday to Monday - Ninoy Aquino day (3 days)

August 29 - 31, Saturday to Monday - National Heroes' day (3 days)

November 28 - 30, Saturday to Monday - Andres Bonifacio day (3 days)

December 25- 27 Friday to Sunday - Christmas Day (3 days)

December 30 -31 Wednesday to Thursday - (Rizal Day) to January 1-3, 2010 (New Year) Friday to Sunday (5 days)

Yikes.

Is this for real???!!!

http://www.abs-cbnnews.com/nation/01/05/09/leading-law-firm-victim-scam