There was a good point raised in this week's episode of Castle.

The climax of the episode, so to speak, happens when Captain Montgomery faces his good friend, the New York district attorney. By now we've figured out that he's had a hand in protecting he real culprit behind the murder of the daughter of a prominent family. Everybody thought it was some guy who robbed her car: turns out it was the victim's brother, who accidentally shot her while in the middle of a drug-powered joy ride.

The cover-up? The victim's family turned out to be major contributors to the DA's campaign for mayor of New York. Fearing he'll lose some clout, he decided to handle the case personally, pin an innocent person who found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and get away with it. But this being a television show, the bad guy had to fall sooner or later. Thus, the inevitable confrontation.

"The problem is," the DA said, "you see everything in black and white. In our case it's all gray." He was, of course, rationalizing himself. And he has a good point. Or should I say the show's writers have a good point?

I was listening to the lawyer of military comptroller Jacinto Ligot during one of my morning walks. This was a day after he and his wife begged out of the Senate's hearing into corruption at the armed forces. They said they were not feeling well. The Senate had their doctors check on them; turns out they're perfectly fine. The former general was detained in the Senate for refusal to cooperate, and his lawyer is talking on the radio, discussing what happened before, and what they'll do next.

I don't remember what he exactly said, but his point was somewhere along the lines of, "I just submitted my client's excuse letter to the Senate." Perfectly reasonable, yes, although I can't help but think something is amiss. Surely, being a lawyer sworn to uphold justice, he would've told his client to do the right thing, right? Sure, you're sick, but you're not that sick, and you can make it, so just go before you get yourself in deeper trouble. Surely he's smart enough to think of that, right?

Today the Ligots don't have much of a choice. Now they have to answer the questions the senators (who are more or less grandstanding, but that's a different entry altogether). Then again, it's another opportunity to invoke their right against self-incrimination. Or mention that they don't have any recollection of, say, having this amount of money, or having taken these trips to the United States. Or, in the case of Erlinda Ligot, make an emotional speech explaining their behavior. "Kami ay tao rin na nasasaktan," she said, while forgetting that she's a person who has to fess up to her corrupt behavior. Surely that's not just her idea, right?

Lawyers are sworn to uphold justice. Not that I know the exact words, but we all have the impression that being a lawyer is a noble profession, where you get the chance to do good for society. And yet being a lawyer is prohibitively expensive. If you can afford it, you become part of an elite circle, and you know what elite circles tend to do - get caught up on their eliteness, have fun through the good and the bad, and come out of it with all the camaraderie, but none of the intentions.

And they move up their ranks, learn from their mistakes, decide to take what's best for them, and we end up with lawyers that defend the bad guys - and, in some cases, even help them get away with it, maybe squash their personal beliefs that they're on the wrong side all this time - just to stay in that circle. Lawyers that insist he victims of the Maguindanao massacre killed each other, or were bitten by poisonous ants, and somehow managed to bury themselves with a backhoe. Lawyers that think the best defense is to invoke one's perfectly legal right against self-incrimination, even if it means denying the greater good.

My cousin recently passed the bar exams. In a couple of weeks, he'll be swearing in as a lawyer. I know he's a good man, and I hope he stays that way when he pursues his noble profession. The same goes for my many friends who are currently taking up law. I know they're good people with good intentions, but who's to say they'll stay the course, especially after they get a taste of how things really go around here? It no longer becomes black or white. It's all gray, shades of gray, and in those shades are loopholes that will help you gt away with it. They justified it themselves. They're lawyers. They're smart people.

Both of my hands are holding my iPod touch. The Twitter application (sorry, app) is open. There's a tweet I want to reply to, in the most unusual way imaginable. And by that, I actually mean a way I vowed I'd never do. So, instead, I compose that tweet in my head and let it go.

Good morning, private crush!

My mind races back to a conversation I had with Hazel a few months back. It was one of the first Twitter conversations we had. This was shortly (or maybe not, I can't remember) after I found her online, which was months after we first made acquaintances. So she talks about us being technically online friends despite meeting before, and I say, "we met once, not enough for me to gaze into your eyes..."

It is, I'll admit, a really pathetic thing to say. But that was me being a bit playful, I guess.

"Can I just say," she replies, "I think that was sorta flirty, dude!"

Earlier in the conversation we were talking about flirting. I don't remember why we were talking about that, but we just were. I remember saying that I never did it before, and then she points out that I already am. "Sorta."

I know. I complained about this before. I wrote about this before. "Tell me," I asked Gwen. "Do I fail at flirting because I don't know when I do?" So how exactly is flirting defined, then? Flirting is a common form of social interaction whereby one person obliquely indicates a romantic or sexual interest towards another. I am aghast after reading that description. As it turns out, I've been flirting all this time.

But before I was aghast, I started being really conscious of myself. No more hints. Not that I vowed never to like someone again - the lack of blog entries devoted to the matter is no indication - but I've long figured that my interests should stay private. You say something, even if it's in an oblique manner, and you still say something. Someone will get the message. And something bad will always happen. Or, at least, something awkward.

Which leads me back to me, my iPod touch, and that tweet I'm composing in my head. Good morning, private crush!

Or should it be secret crush? Either term sounds wrong, or it's me being picky with my words. Why am I saying that anyway? It's supposed to be a joke, and yes, jokes are half-meant, but then again, I'm not saying this as a joke. I'm saying this as a random drop of truth, from out of nowhere, which will be forgotten. And why shouldn't I? It's not something that has bothered me, as much as the others. But why should I? Because it won't be forgotten. It will be awkward from here on out. But it has been forgotten. You already did this before, only with different words.

I decide not to do it. Frankly, I didn't have a reason to, at least not until those eyes - I've gazed into them long enough, until I decided to look elsewhere because it's distracting me - come up again, in my daydreams. But not before I start wondering. I may not indicate any interest of any sort, but will anything I say suggest that? Will everything I say suggest that? Because you cannot keep anything in. So I must be flirting all along. Flirting with Hazel, flirting with Gwen, and yes, writing those words made me feel filthy, because I certainly did not plan it all along.

Oh well. Good afternoon, person I'm actually, unknowingly flirting with.

I think the only time I sang karaoke was, well... I don't really remember when. I just remember that it's in one of my parents' friend's houses, and I was somehow goaded into singing Westlife's Season in the Sun because I knew the song. That, and I thought it was the perfect opportunity to show off to everybody. Hey, I actually know this song, the same way I know all the words to Michael V.'s Sinaktan Mo Ang Puso Ko!

Since then I never wanted to sing karaoke again. It's not that I don't know any of the songs - actually, whenever my relatives take the microphone during family reunions I end up realizing that I know particular songs. It's just that I can't be bothered, the same way I prefer not to swim even if I already took swimming lessons. My cousins sing newer songs - I remember one of my cousins singing All The Small Things during one of those overnight resort activities - but I think the idea of being able to sing, say, Bamboo's Hallelujah on Magic Sing is a little iffy. And I know I'll humiliate myself with older songs, even if I grew up with them.

Thus I'm a little amazed at how fearless people can be when it comes to singing. Oh, you're talking to a Filipino too - and I can attest to the fact that Filipinos love to sing, which explains all those singing competitions. So am I afraid to be humiliated? Kinda - but it's more of me not wanting to be bothered. Besides, I'll only sing karaoke in front of relatives I see around seven times a year. It's not like we live in a literally tight community, where neighbors can hear us belt our hearts out, right?

Then again, you don't need to be in a tight community to be able to hear all those songs. I live in a subdivision with decent-sized lots, but it's no match for the speed of sound. Just last night, a neighbor decided to have a karaoke machine rented, invite some drinking buddies, and start an impromptu concert. The usual complaint goes along the lines of "you sing horribly!" but we've taken a different policy: we won't be bothered if the singing is decent. For the most part it is, and while the neighbors' singing continues way into the night, we can sleep fine. Except, perhaps, for the one time when the singing continued into the next day. Horrible singing.

Actually horrible singing isn't much of a concern for me either. It's what you'd expect during a karaoke session. It's the only time I can feel like (insert name of singer here), so let me! What I'm bothered about is how they go about with the singing. They say My Way is deadly - and, if I remember correctly, they have banned it in some drinking joints for fear of murder - but I believe another song deserves the accolade: Bakit Ngayon Ka Lang.

Now, it's a decent song, written and performed by one of our modern greats, Ogie Alcasid. (Or maybe I'm wrong, but I'm sure I'm right. Correct me?) The song received a new lease on life when Freestyle performed it in one of their concerts with Pops Fernandez. (Again, correct me?) It got played on the radio, got stamped in our heads, and now we're trying to replicate how that performance transformed a lament for love into a call-and-response type of song. To the very last note. Let me attempt to describe it in words.

Bakit ngayon... - Bakit ngayon ka lang - dumating sa buuu... - dumating sa buhay ko? - Pilit binuuu... - Pilit binubuksan - ang saraaaa... - aaaaaang aking puuuuso?

I failed, yes?

What if I say that every karaoke performance of this song has to be between a man and a woman? And it always has been?

My point is - and maybe it's me and my three years of covering American Idol - I can't stand the fact that they have to sing the song the exact way they heard it on the radio. I can hear Simon Cowell complaining. "That was karaoke." Pretty much the same way a drunk neighbor missed the cues to Don't Stop Believin', or a kid decided to sing Alone... by skipping all the words except for "Alone", which she proceeded to melodically scream in the next four minutes.

Then again, that is the point of karaoke. It's not being able to know the words - they flash on the screen - but the fact that you can, more or less, mimic your favorite singer, have an audience with your "adoring fans", and maybe, just maybe, hope that you get a perfect score. Speaking of which, I never knew how they made that work. Does the machine have an electronic approximation of the original, and take note if the singer sings the song exactly as it should sound like, note for note? For someone who can't be bothered by karaoke, well, he sure is bothered.

So I'm being told, "there's no reason to be jealous." I wonder why. There is, contrary to what's said, many reasons to be jealous. And I'm not thinking of how glamorous the life they're living is. In fact, I couldn't give a toss about whether it's glamorous or not, although that would be an interesting bonus. Also, it never factored in.

"It's not fun," they tell me. "It's lots of hard work. You don't get time for yourself."

"Actually," I say, "we're all not supposed to have time for ourselves, sooner or later."

The argument wasn't won yet. And they, the people who are there, will not go down without a fight. Inevitably, since they're there, and being there leads, somehow, to an air of supremacy.

"But it's not as fun as it looks."

Same argument, insisted twice as hard.

"I know that. Doesn't mean I don't want it."

"Why are you asking me about this anyway?" they'd go. (The writing style should be clear by now.) A confused expression forms in their faces. "I'm telling you, there's nothing to be jealous about. Now, change topic, please?"

It doesn't quell me. I'm still jealous. I still badly want it, or something like it. That is the keyword. Something like it. You know what you want to get yourself into, or at least have an idea, which is why you want it. Or something like it. And you know you have what it takes to do so, or at least you think you do, which is why you want it. Or something like it. But you get the idea that they won't let you. Why, because it's not as fun as it looks?

And you try to understand why they see it that way. It consumes you in every way, mostly wrong, because you start dealing with egos and routines and, sooner or later, you've stomped on all that green grass a lot, it stops growing and becomes a patch of barren land. And the grass on the other side, it looks so alluring. So you tell the rest, "no, stay, it's much better." But you're in exactly the same situation, only worse, because yu have these people telling you all these recycled reasons, all these recycled excuses, only to see them, hours later, exchanging funny retweets peppered with hilarious laughter. Not fun?

And then you start thinking, "maybe they don't want me there at all. Because I know I'm good enough to be there. And I'm a threat to them! I'm better than them! That's why they don't want me around. That's why they make all these silly, condescending excuses."

And then you see them laughing again. Not that fun. Scoff. You look at your barren patch of land and go, "I'll get out of here someday." And then you realize they're right: you don't have what it takes to be there, because you can't stand up to egos in the best possible way: by having an ego yourself. Which is why they're, somehow, being an ass to you.

The hardest part is, you remain jealous of them. Somehow, that's how things go, and that's how they want it to be.

Saturn and I were joking about it a few days ago. With the frequency of earthquakes around the so-called Ring of Fire - one in New Zealand, one in Japan, one in the Philippines, almost simultaneously - I quipped that, at this rate, everything around the Pacific Ocean will break off the planet and exist on its own.

Of course, recalling that story right now seems awfully inappropriate. But my point's somewhere in the details. Saturn's in Montreal, and I'm in Manila. Saturn came from the Philippines, of course, and he's got relatives in the far-flung provinces. I was online when he heard of a minor earthquake strike the country - I can't remember where; I think it was in Mindanao - at the same time a fairly strong earthquake struck Japan. I told him we were fine. And then we cracked the jokes.

Today was no day for joking. Japan was struck by another earthquake - a magnitude 8.8 earthquake. Or 8.4. Or 8.9. The figure depends on what channel you're watching, but it's still a scary thing, a really scary thing, since the earthquake that triggered the 2004 tsunami in the Indian Ocean was just a magnitude 8, if I remember correctly. Although, maybe, if you're getting too stressed at the figures, a little joke could go a long way.

This quake was centered in the ocean, so the tsunami warning was inevitable. Seeing a torrent of water hit the coastal areas of northern Japan, on live television, on seven news channels, was the most surreal thing I've seen in a while. And it also meant we'll be hit. I'm in Manila, and we're safe as I write this, since we're not on the eastern seaboard where the Pacific waters lie. But it doesn't stop people here from panicking. We saw what happened in Indonesia six years ago. Probably live as well.

It's the dead hours of the morning in Montreal. Saturn can't sleep, worrying about his relatives here, who happen to be on the eastern seaboard. He's watching ANC online. I tell him to sleep. He won't, believing that he'll sleep better once he knows we're fine.

I get a message from Dinna, who's in Indonesia (as you probably know already), addressed to me and Valerie and Immie. She hopes we're fine. We're all fine, I reassure her.

I send Jackie a message. She's in Taiwan, or so I thought; she'd later tweet from Hong Kong, I think, asking about tsunami alerts in Taiwan.

I see Krizzie worrying about her relatives in California, and the surfing areas in Hawaii, partly (presumably) because she's been itching to get a surf-perfect body in time for the summer, or whatever's left of it here. And then she realizes that all of this is happening outside surf season, "which means winds aren't strong enough to build big, big waves," she tweeted.

I send Chiaki a message, asking if her relatives - she's Japanese, after all - are fine. She reassures me that they're fine, as far as she knows.

A stranger sends me a message. Someone from the David Cook community, I presume; someone who knows Dinna, and judging from the message, Immie and Valerie as well. Wishing us all fine. I consider sending a reply.

"We'll be fine. Thanks for the prayers!"

I send Rae a message, not expecting a reply, since she's probably busy helping out, being a sailor and all.

Saturn drops me another line. "I'm getting a few hours of shut eye, as long as you guys are all fine."

It's fascinating how small the world is now. I'm not sure if it's a good thing. One thing gets amplified more than it should be. That works both ways.  Maybe the Ring of Fire has broken off the planet and is now revolving independently around the sun. But, as I said, we'll be fine, unless something unforeseen happens, and heavens forbid it doesn't, because suddenly people will speak as if they're beside us, but act as if we're on opposite ends of the spectrum.