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  <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29</id>
  <title>Of Lapis Lazuli</title>
  <subtitle>A little bit of this and that.</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>Nienna</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2007-01-24T11:22:22Z</updated>
  <lj:journal userid="11398586" username="lapislazuli29" type="personal"/>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29:2448</id>
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    <title>Moving.</title>
    <published>2007-01-24T11:22:22Z</published>
    <updated>2007-01-24T11:22:22Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I'm moving to a new blog address, so to speak.&amp;nbsp; You'll find my new (yet still nonsensical) blog at http://chiaroscuro99.livejournal.com.&amp;nbsp; :)&amp;nbsp; That would make my new LJ username &lt;span class='ljuser ljuser-name_chiaroscuro99' lj:user='chiaroscuro99' style='white-space: nowrap;'&gt;&lt;a href='http://chiaroscuro99.livejournal.com/profile'&gt;&lt;img src='http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif' alt='[info]' width='17' height='17' style='vertical-align: bottom; border: 0; padding-right: 1px;' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href='http://chiaroscuro99.livejournal.com/'&gt;&lt;b&gt;chiaroscuro99&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sorry for the inconvenience!</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29:2199</id>
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    <title>Something to think about.</title>
    <published>2007-01-18T07:25:48Z</published>
    <updated>2007-01-18T07:36:15Z</updated>
    <content type="html">"Never feel good.&amp;nbsp; The corruption of the good by the belief in their own infallible goodness is the most bloody dangerous human pitfall.&amp;nbsp; Once you have conquered all your sins, pride is the one which will conquer you.&amp;nbsp; A man starts off deciding he is a good man because he makes good decisions.&amp;nbsp; Next thing, he's convinced that whatever decision he makes must be good because he's a good man.&amp;nbsp; So you've got Bin Laden hitting the twin towers and Tony Blair invading Baghdad.&amp;nbsp; Most of the wars in the world are caused by people who think they have God on their side.&amp;nbsp; Always stick with people who know they are flawed and ridiculous."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Professor Widgett, &lt;i&gt;Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination&lt;/i&gt; by Helen Fielding&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29:1881</id>
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    <title>First entry for the new year.  Hmm.</title>
    <published>2007-01-11T08:40:07Z</published>
    <updated>2007-01-11T08:40:07Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;I haven't been myself lately, have I?&amp;nbsp; This is going to be a looong rant, and it's not going to be very happy.&amp;nbsp; God knows everybody's got their own problems right now, so I really don't want you to have to think about this as well.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="ljcut" text="Just having a good rant."&gt;Honestly, I'm not starting the year right.&amp;nbsp; Before fireworks started streaking through the sky and generally started making a mess on the streets, I was sitting on my grandmother's rocking chair, reading an old book.&amp;nbsp; It was a change from my usual routine - the past three new&amp;nbsp;year's eves&amp;nbsp;had me curled up in an old sofa, talking to one of my best friends&amp;nbsp;on the phone.&amp;nbsp; We'd usually talk 'til five minutes before twelve, then hang up to do our 'rounds', which consists of kissing and greeting everybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had one prediction for the new year, and it's pretty simple:&amp;nbsp; I said it was going to be very... eventful.&amp;nbsp; After all, it's the year after we graduated from college.&amp;nbsp; If going to school was the introduction to life, the year after college was kind of like dipping your toe into the water before getting in, to test the temperature.&amp;nbsp; For &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; year, I had just one resolution - to make sure I was going to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near the end of 2006, a friend of mine and I would spend hours talking on the phone, laughing (and sometimes whining) about law school, our love lives (or lack thereof) and our crazy but well-meaning (and much loved)&amp;nbsp;friends.&amp;nbsp; We promised ourselves that no matter what happened, our happiness was always supposed to be our priority.&amp;nbsp; (Okay, not happy "i-don't-care-what-happens-to-anybody-else-or-my-life-in-general" happy, but more of "i-will-move-in-the-direction-where-i-will-become-a-happier-and-healthier-person-who-is-more-at-peace-with-myself-and-my-life" happy.)&amp;nbsp; Right now, I think he's living up to his promise.&amp;nbsp; On the other hand, we're barely two weeks into the new year, and I'm afraid I might be failing miserably.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask anybody (pseudo-boyfriend &lt;span class='ljuser ljuser-name_boommanibo' lj:user='boommanibo' style='white-space: nowrap;'&gt;&lt;a href='http://boommanibo.livejournal.com/profile'&gt;&lt;img src='http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif' alt='[info]' width='17' height='17' style='vertical-align: bottom; border: 0; padding-right: 1px;' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href='http://boommanibo.livejournal.com/'&gt;&lt;b&gt;boommanibo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;especially), and they will tell you that my decision-making skills are pretty crappy.&amp;nbsp; If I have such a hard time deciding where to have lunch, can you imagine how horrible making life-changing decisions are&amp;nbsp;for me?&amp;nbsp; Right now, I'm the middle of one of those moments, and let me tell you, it's not pretty.&amp;nbsp; It might not be a big deal for some, but it is for me, and any decision I make will entail a lot of sacrifices.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does happiness have to be so subjective, damnit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29:1624</id>
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    <title>To do or not to do, and all that.</title>
    <published>2006-12-12T00:27:40Z</published>
    <updated>2007-01-11T08:42:53Z</updated>
    <content type="html">"Art, like morality, consists of drawing the line somewhere."&lt;br /&gt;- G. K. Chesterton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a very timely discussion, even if I do say so myself.  (It was my birthday, and it’s on days like those that I can’t help but think about where my life is going, where it is, and what in the world happened to make it that way.)  In our legal ethics class I was asked, “Would you defend a drug lord, if he paid you two million pesos to represent him?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said no.  How could I, when he caused so much harm to society?  After the horror stories my family and friends have told me, about what those they loved and cared for had gone through because of drugs, how it ruined their lives and made everyone unhappy, how could I defend someone who could have caused all this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, how could I not?  As some people pointed out, everyone has the right to representation.  Entitled to it, even.  Everyone, in other words, is entitled to the proper administration of justice, to due process – even “drug lords”, who may have caused so much trouble and heartbreak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May have.  Which is why they should have the chance to defend themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could you defend someone you didn’t believe in, though?  Or someone you felt, in your heart of hearts, was guilty?  If, for example, you did defend him and he was acquitted, could you live with yourself?  Knowing that you helped him walk free, knowing you may have helped someone who was going to hurt more people?  Then again, as our professor had said, who are &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt; to decide who’s guilty or not?  You’re not the judge.  (And really, if you think about it, who is he?  He’s human as well, isn't he?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something a blockmate of mine (Linus) said calmed me down, though.  He said that well, really, there would probably be a lot of lawyers who’d jump at the chance to defend someone for two million.  (This is not to put down lawyers in general, but we have to admit, there are those who’d do it for the money.  Some would defend him as well, because they firmly believed he was entitled to it, to justice, and I honestly believe they would be great.)  He added that, in his opinion, a lawyer was the sum of everything he or she believed in.  You had to have your own values, you had to draw a line somewhere.  If not, then what kind of lawyer would you be?  (I was so grateful to him – &lt;i&gt;plus&lt;/i&gt;, it was his birthday that day too.  Haha.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many questions, and really, so many answers.  But which one is the right one?  Is there even such a thing?  I suppose we’ll have to see.  It’s my first year in law school, I’ve got three more to go.  Maybe by the time I graduate (Please, &lt;i&gt;please&lt;/i&gt; God, let me graduate...) I’ll have my answer.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I’ll at least know where to draw the line.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29:1498</id>
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    <title>Moe moments.</title>
    <published>2006-12-04T03:05:09Z</published>
    <updated>2006-12-04T03:07:57Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I had to fix my last entry - it's funny what you sometimes ramble on about when you feel &lt;i&gt;morbidly&lt;/i&gt; (yes, yes, I'm exaggerating) depressed, isn't it?  Anyway.  I feel muuuch better now, thanks to a healthy dose of Ouran Koukou Host Club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh, the amazing power of bishounen.  ;P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I reaaaaaally love the icon kaoko cow made.  I saw it before watching Ouran Koukou and thought it was cute, but now that I know who exactly it is...  Heeheehee.)</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29:1087</id>
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    <title>Maybe.</title>
    <published>2006-12-02T11:23:03Z</published>
    <updated>2006-12-04T02:54:19Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Waiting and hoping, I realized, is exhausting. It picks at you, little by little, dissolving tiny bits in your armor, until after a while you realize you can barely keep the different parts together. And then, when you realize how sick of it you are, something happens and you think that maybe, just maybe, something will come out of this one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you can keep it all together for just a little bit longer.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29:999</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lapislazuli29.livejournal.com/999.html"/>
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    <title>Feeling sentimental.</title>
    <published>2006-11-20T03:15:19Z</published>
    <updated>2006-11-30T16:47:14Z</updated>
    <content type="html">It's strange, waking up in the morning to someone playing the grand piano in the living room.  Not &lt;i&gt;bad&lt;/i&gt; strange, just... &lt;i&gt;different&lt;/i&gt; strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandparents spent most of the weekend at our place, along with some aunts and cousins.  It was fun.  I didn't get any studying done, but it's no great loss - I doubt I would have picked up my books even if they weren't around.  It was the weekend, for goodness' sake.  I need &lt;i&gt;some&lt;/i&gt; time away from my highlighters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nice to wake up to classics being played on the piano.  My grandmother plays so beautifully, I often wonder why she gave us her mother's piano to keep at our house.  My mom can play the piano, but she herself admits that she doesn't do it as well as her mother or some of her siblings can.  I definitely can't - my meager musical talent (if you can even call it that) is limited to not shattering eardrums when I put my vocal cords to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was in bed, wrapped up in my comforter, listening.  The music stopped for a bit, and then resumed, this time with simpler pieces.  Another pause, and then even simpler ones.  The quality was the same the entire time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I got up and walked to the top of the stairs, where I'd be able to see the piano - and my ten-year old sister, playing basic pieces.  My grandmother and one of my cousins were with her, watching.  Every so often my grandmother would give quiet instructions or guide her hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nice.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29:687</id>
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    <title>Deja Vu (I never use green pens.)</title>
    <published>2006-11-13T08:03:28Z</published>
    <updated>2006-11-30T16:49:11Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Around two months into law school I dreamt I was in a single-level classroom, attempting to listen to a professor I did not know discuss something I knew nothing about.  I knew I was dreaming.  I was doodling in my notebook using a green pen, and my seatmate, who usually sat at my right, was at my left, sending someone a text message.  I remember waking up and thinking that was never going to happen because, "well, for one thing, I never use green pens." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then life went on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Saturday I found myself sitting behind a long table in a single-level classroom, attempting to listen to our new professor discuss something I knew nothing about.  I was doodling in my notebook using a green pen, which I had purchased the day before (in an attempt to perhaps 'liven up my notes').  My seatmate, who sat at my right during the previous semester, now sat at my left, composing a text message for her friend in Australia.  I remember waking up from my lecture-induced trance, blinking at my green pen and thinking, "well, I certainly got ahead of myself back then, didn't I?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(When I told my seatmate about it, she went: "There was a glitch in the Matrix then, Neo?")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent most of my Saturday night in Galleria with one of my best friends, revelling (*ahem*) in our state of singlehood.  We watched 'Cake', ate at a tiny (no, I am not exaggerating) table in the corner of a restaurant near the kitchen, and walked around the mall, finally trading her pretty &lt;i&gt;kikay&lt;/i&gt; sandals in for Dupe flipflops.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point we passed a guy handing out flyers for lots in a subdivision in Antipolo, and turned down the piece of paper he was waving at us.  It wasn't like I could afford anything of that sort right now (you aren't exactly rolling in cash when you're a full-time student), and he could probably find someone better to hand it to.  My best friend and I joked that he could hand it over to our future (*ahemahem*) boyfriends (if they do exist) when they arrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But get in line buddy, 'coz I'm waiting too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Just to clarify though, it's not like being single is crap.  I &lt;i&gt;love&lt;/i&gt; it, and I'm not kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's as Vins said - "naghihintay, pero hindi naghahanap.")</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lapislazuli29:402</id>
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    <title>After months and months...</title>
    <published>2006-11-01T14:06:39Z</published>
    <updated>2007-01-13T14:36:38Z</updated>
    <content type="html">...of thinking about it, I've finally gotten off my lazy ass and set up a livejournal for myself.  It's been a while since I've been able to write anything remotely resembling fiction (apart from *ahem* my so-called term papers), and I really do think I should get back on my feet in terms of writing.  This might be just the thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping to post bits of fiction in here, but I bet a lot of (psychotic) rambling on my part will unavoidably take up some space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so we begin.  ;)</content>
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