"I have always been delighted at the prospect
of a new day, a fresh try, one more start,
with perhaps a bit of magic
waiting somewhere behind the morning."
- J.B. Priestly


Now that the drinking is finally winding down, two weeks following the conclusion of the 2005 Bar Examinations, the immense truth is slowly beginning to creep up on me: that these weeks may very well be the first days of the rest of my life. This realization began as I went around fulfilling errands and engaging in activities which I had been putting off for so long, either because I was too busy preparing for the Bar, or because I was too caught up in the fishbowl called law school. In the past couple of days, for example, I moved out of my flat in Rockwell; I cleaned my room and threw out all my old cases dating from first year law; I opened my own bank account; I deposited my own money; I got myself my own ATM card; I withdrew my own money, and painfully spent it on paperbacks; I booked my own flight to Hong Kong; I replaced my aging cellular phone; I visited old friends.

At first, the euphoria of having so much time on my hands made me realize how much one could accomplish in a single day. Even waking up at nearly ten o'clock in the morning still afforded me much time to do so many things-- and with daylight to spare to even allow me to watch sunsets in Loyola again-- all without feeling acutely guilty that I had to be doing something else instead. The abundance of time was liberating, exhilarating even! I was living on my own pace, on my own terms. But as the days wore on, and in between gimiks and drinks, this liberation began to give way a creeping sense of uneasiness: yes, I was living on my own time, and on my own terms. But I felt that I wasn't doing anything with it. Thus, while I was glad that my life was actually moving forward once again, I wasn't exactly comfortable with the reality that, in a very real sense, this life was finally, irrevocably, mine.

I am now accountable for my life.

This reality for me was-- understandably enough-- a long time coming. Having spent an additional four years in law school, the real world, and the responsibility of accounting for one's own life, was somewhat held in abeyance and left as an unnecessary inconvenience to be put off for another day. While many of my batchmates in college had gone on to live independent lives-- some got married, some had children, others bought cars, others mortgaged homes-- I, on the other hand, was (as I always had been) sheltered from the worries and trivialities of everyday living, choosing, quite conveniently, to indulge in this "life of the mind" that study afforded me. Little did I realize that living with my parents, while comfortable, safe, and convenient, made me ill-prepared for facing the stresses that everyday living had to offer.

This fact was brought home to me three weeks before the Bar Examinations, when I had what I thought to be a nervous breakdown. Because I had not slept for almost two weeks, was experiencing nervous fits, and could not concetrate, much less study, I was contrained to finally see a medical professional (read: psychiatrist). Desperate, and teetering on what seemed to be the edge of sanity (I was seriously considering deferring my taking of the Bar Exams due to the hopelessness of my situation), I explained to the good doctor my symptoms. Almost immediately, he prescribed anti-anxiety medication and sleeping pills, much to my relief and slight embarrassment. He reassured me that taking such pills was a normal thing (He laid stress on the fact that I wasn't actually crazy!), and that many people are known to take them if only to get from one stress to the next. The diagnosis was comforting enough; but it was what he said later which I remember now most specially: "Maybe the Bar is the first real crisis that you've gone through in your life, thus, you really don't know how to handle it. While the drugs will help you deal with this problem right now, you've got to learn to develop the skills to face other crises in the future. And there will be more of them, trust me. This will build your character."

At that time, the doctor's words did not bother me much; I was too wrapped up in getting back on track with Bar review. But looking back on the experience now, I am somewhat embarrassed to realize that at twenty-six, my "first real crisis" in life would be the Bar Exam, which, by the way, many consider to be an asinine and trivial exercise. And even that, I did not handle very well!

This is why, I think, owning my own life at this point takes much more courage for me as I slowly move away from the comfort zone of my parents' fawning. Of course, I still live under my parents' roof, eat their food, use their water, and drive their car. But now, I would like to think that I am more keenly aware of the fact that I have my own two feet to rely on, that I have my own life to lead, and that finally, I really have to grow up. No more asking mom to buy this, or dad to do this. No more having to ask for money unless really necessary. No more assuming that someone will always be picking up after me, doing this or that; I have to do it myself.

More than this parental dimension, however, it is really the more fundamental reality of the rest of my life that, in unguarded moments, creeps in on me with a quiet dread. Laid bare in oppressive certainty, it is a fact that I-- and perhaps, many others in my batch-- will ultimately have to face and deal with (without psychotropic drugs, hopefully!) Indeed, it is a fearful thing, holding one's own life in one's own hands. But it is also, I must admit, somewhat exciting and giddily hopeful. New beginnings often are, I guess. And this is no exception. So here I am, it seems, at the cusp of a new phase in my life, which, appropriately enough, I can now call My Life: Vita Mea. The author's statement, therefore, immediately comes to mind, applicable not only to a work of fiction, but also to my own life's work of fact: this work is purely the product of my hardwork and imagination; any mistakes or inaccuracies in the text are indeed purely mine.