Certainties...

Today marks the 1st week that Northman became My North Star…
We have sealed that night with a kiss that I won’t forget for its sweetness and tenderness.

Last night he read this blog; I’m so happy he did, at least he knows where I’m coming from; where I stand now and where I could possibly be heading. Conjectures are offered but just the same my stand remains on here and now. And my here and now is certain of this: I walk and will continue to walk with the person that holds my hand here and now all others are just supposition and shall remain as that, a supposition.

Where am I going now?
I don’t have any definite answer. But one thing certain that I have just come to realize is that, this time it’s not just I but We who shall journey on...

:)

My North Star

And the night came...

Northman has become my North Star;

My Polaris in this constellation called life...

:)

I wait for the night to come...

It’s been a week since I started exchanging messages with Northman…
Yesterday, I became bolder and sent him a ‘loaded’ txt message; at least I don’t have any more reasons to chicken out and be mum again next time we meet, and we’re set to meet tonight. I can’t really think clearly now, I actually tossed and turn in bed last night thinking of what I can possibly say; how I will say what I have to say and hopefully really say what I have come to say…

What is it that I have to say… nothing loquaciously eloquent really; just three simple words…

But then the question is; am I rushing? I think my answer remains the same - It will always take an instant for me to love a person...

And so, now I wait for the night to come so I can tell him that...

:)

A night of extreme emotions....

I slept Friday night with a smile as I look forward to Saturday with much anticipation… Northman (my friends call him that) has agreed for us to come together to a friend’s thanksgiving dinner party who was recently hospitalized for a very serious medical problem. As soon as I got his confirmation it suddenly dawned on me that we would be coming in late to the party and we, coming together would be so obvious for everyone to notice. I panicked and call a friend for help, I was worried for him more; his recent ex could possibly be there as well and he being seen with me would certainly make tongue wagging all over.

Friends have graciously provided a smokescreen as we arrived. I can’t forget the look in their faces as they saw us come in together, good thing there were not so many people we know who could have noticed that sudden plastered smile in their faces. Oh well, I was beaming and ‘glowing’ more as they claimed; yup my excitement level was too high that my head was already swimming; I can’t seem to get the drift most of the conversations I had.

As they said, when you’re up, there’s no other way but down. And crashed down I did as I saw our friend confined to bed. I’m a doctor and I have seen far worse cases than him but still I was not prepared seeing him that way. I can’t really bear myself to look him straight in the eye as I was afraid my eyes would betray the strength and encouragement I was trying so hard to give him. I thought that all the years of clinical practice have already steeled me for this kind of situation. I was dead wrong; I felt so helpless for him. I have only known him recently, but he is really something; he is a very admirable man for he exudes sereneness and composure despite all the pain he is suffering.

It’s been a stormy, extreme swing of emotion for me all in one night. I was sure glad to have friends to have hold and hug me during that night. Company of friends really made a difference to ease what I was feeling that night. As I drove him home I was quiet most of the way; I have lost all the things that I have mentally prepared to say; I just hope he did not sense my discomfort as I was disturbed with our friend’s condition. His brief, but to me seemed to be a lingering touch on my arm as he was about to get off the car was so comforting, enough to accompany me on my not so long drive home.

:)

I have found... lost... and found love again...

It’s been a while since my last post. I still have to finish my 3rd ulan story…

What have happened since? A lot I would say…
My last post was during the time I went back to my alma mater for my judging chore. I have done some schooling as well, having finished a grueling one-week course in hospital management at AGSB. It was an eye-opening course actually; now I know what to call those things that I have been doing; it was a very good academic exercise to put label into things I have been used to doing, which I know as just simple management guided by common sense. That put me into thinking whether I would still pursue my desire to enroll in an MBA program. At this point, what for? Maybe as an added degree; to make my resume more impressive; and perhaps another career path/option in the future; other than that I really see no other point; coz I’m already doing the things that are supposed to be taught in MBA School.

On the love front, my last post talks as well of my continuing effort to bridge and nurture a continuing friendly relationship with F. I have tried, and still continuing to try; never wanting to burn bridges. I can sense some trepidation on his part; only time will reveal what would really come of it. Have I lost my love for him? I still stand on my previous statement; my love goes beyond the distance of relationship, I have love and that is all that matter.

I have loved again? Or rather I would say that I have found a way to rekindle the passion I feel for a person I met a while back. So let me backtrack: I started playing badminton again April this year, when I joined this Sunday badminton group in Pasig. I saw him, or rather got hooked into him on the second Sunday that I played there; to put it simply, my heart went a flutter the first time my eyes get caught of him; in short I developed this crush on him, his mere presence made me literally dumb, I don’t know why. Super torpe I have been, my friends called and teased me as a matter of fact. Oh well, I have contented myself seeing/glancing from a distance. What can I do, my mind goes blank when I’m in front of him. During the course, I have love and lost and so is he as I came to know.

I really don’t know what came of me, but this week I finally had the courage to send him a txt message, that is almost after 2 weeks of getting hold of his cell number. I sent him what maybe considered a non-sensical message, a very lame excuse just to say hi. I was crushed when he did not reply, at least not immediately. But when he did the exchange continued until the following day. I really do not know where my boldness came from but I did invite him that night for dinner, and gladly he accepted. And so I had a dinner date with him, if that can be called a ‘date’; a friend said if there’s just the two of you, it’s already called a date, fine. I was still tongue-tied most of the time, but at least I got over my ka-torperhan, in a way. All in all it was really a good exercise to demystify and deconstruct my crush in him; a good start to possibly know him on a deeper level. I’m going to see him again later this evening; I hope this time the air would be more relaxed; hopefully we would find comfort and ease in each other to freely share and open up.

:)

Ulan Story No. 2: Teen's Stormy Angst

I just got home from my judging chore. It's still raining and the wind blowing much harder, a storm just passing; how appropriate to continue with my ulan story number 2.

Ulan Story No. 2: Teen's Stormy Angst

It’s been said that High School will always be considered as the best and most memorable in anyone’s life. I couldn’t agree more. This story happened on my 4th year high school; the last year of my life spent in a minor seminary; yup, I spent a good 4 years of my life in the confine of a seminary.

The year was 1983; the year made memorable because of the political storm that started with the assassination of Ninoy Aquino. Beneath the serene front of the seminary, another form of storm was brewing amongst its restless teen inhabitants; and for me and the rest of my batch mates, (the 4th year graduating class) the year would forever be embedded in our memory as the year the biggest storm in our young lives happened.

The age of puberty is the most interesting part of growing up, for it shapes and molds one’s future. It’s the stage of restlessness, exploration and vulnerability. It was very unfortunate that as we started that school year, we lost 3 of our beloved mentors: Father Rector, Father Prefect of Discipline and Father Confessor who were all given different assignments. It was very unfortunate as well, that they were replaced by two odd priests: Fr. Jack(ass) and Fr. Clementine (may he rest in peace). Fr. Jackass is relatively new; he was just ordained priest the previous year and naturally has no experience at all dealing with a bunch of rowdy kids. Fr. Clementine on the other hand is an old priest, somehow the years have already made him tired, restless and indifferent. Together, they really spell disaster as formators to a bunch of kids who are in the very delicate stage of adolescence.

Everything was still the usual routine as the schoolyear started as expected in a seminary: prayer and study. What happens in between prayer and study especially to a bunch of adolescent boys is a great deal important as well; and having an inexperienced and indifferent formators to handle all of these would really spell disaster for everyone. And everything, I would say really did get out of hand. Every imaginable thing that one would think cannot happen in a minor seminary did happen during those times. It was during that time that I started smoking, including weed/pot; It was there that I got my first taste of wine and alcohol: gin, rum, and what have you to make one really drunk; I have learned to scale wall, escape in town in order to have fun, watch movie, go on dates or simply just gallivant; It was there that I got to be conscious, tolerant and even had my first-hand experience of m2m sexual activities, though in my case never really consummated; We have done so many outrageous, shocking pranks to everyone including our formators; There were so many other things that parents would surely cringe knowing or dare not think that their kids are capable or are actually doing especially in a seminary.

1983 was also marred by one of the biggest typhoons that ever hit the country and the seminary was not spared. And so a day after the storm has passed, and as rain continues to pour, students were sent home. A handful of us volunteered to stay, supposedly to help clean up all the mess; and we really did a very good job cleaning the whole place. I can’t forget that night: it was a cold, wet Saturday night, with only candles for our light, as electric power was still out. It was way past our usual 9:30PM bedtime-light’s out when we decided to start a drinking session. One by one we sneaked into one of the large communal bathroom where we have rolled down a banig in the far end corner of the room. We started drinking a mix of rum and coke conveniently mixed in a big plastic jug, one glass filled half-full doing the rounds for us to drink. Supply of more bottles of rum and gin were stashed under the sink; Cigarettes were conveniently stashed underneath the banig and anyone who wishes to smoke has to stand and blow the smoke thru the open window. We must have been there for less than 30 minutes, as the jug was still halfway full and I was just having my first cigarette when suddenly Fr. Jackass came rushing in; everyone froze, I held my breath as he stopped in front of me and pointing his finger just inches away from my face he shouted “you!!! Of all the people here, akala ko matino ka!” he then proceeded to the center of banig and grabbed the plastic jug; lifted it to his nose and sniffed to smell and in a fit of rage shouted “punyeta” as he threw the jug to the wall with such force that it cracked into several pieces. I can’t recall anymore what other invectives he must have hurled. He left suddenly just as he came and we all just stood there in stunned silence.

I don’t know how we managed to get through the rest of the night, but we did sleep and woke up with the sun shining despite the rain. We must have spent the early part of the morning speculating on who could have possibly squealed on us; how we were found; we even shared a good laugh as one of us mimicked Fr. Jackass’ rage that night. It was mid-morning when we all sheepishly piled into his office and said our apology. He was still in rage, but much more in control of himself. He just dismissed us outright as he has not decided on what to do with us. We went out of the seminary grounds after that and spent almost the whole day wandering in the town’s park by the lake. We were all downhearted and afraid of what might become of us. We returned that afternoon just as the rest of the seminarians were also returning from their home-vacation; the story rapidly spread in a hush tone.

Fr. Jackass did not confront the issue head on as we had expected him. But it was a downward spiral of events after that; he played and caught us in our own game: one by one he was able to catch and punish the smokers, the escapees, and other truants. His biggest catch was when he got wind of the hazing we were conducting as part of the fraternity we have put up; all 24 of us, member of the senior class were actually part of the fraternity. He found a reason to kick us out. Putting up a fraternity or any secret or illegal association/organization is considered one of the mortal sins against the community; anyone involved will surely get the boot as it is considered a betrayal of the community that we belong to and serve.

And so one fateful day in September six members of our class were called into the Rector’s office together with their parents; speculations abound as they never went out of the room the whole morning, until about noon time when the rest of the class was called into the office one by one. As we enter the office and stand before a panel we never knew was there, the Fr. Rector would ask the leader of our group whether we stay in the office or go back to our classroom. We never knew what was going on but apparently it was decided that all those involve in the fraternity are to be kicked out, to be placed in respective town's catholic school. And so as we were called into the office we were told to either stay in there or go back to our classroom; it was only then that we were told of what was to happen.

We cried our hearts out ironically those who were kicked out were the ones left consoling those that are to be left behind; and those of us left behind somehow felt more the bitterness and betrayal for we felt we were denied our chance to prove our worth and loyalty to the group. But that afternoon as we spent our last hours together, everything was settled; we understood what they had to do just as they understood that we are with them all throughout and that we are one solid batch as we have promised ourselves, no matter what. They left that same afternoon; more tears were shed, not just by our batch but by the whole community including our lay teachers who were left clueless and helpless of the whole event.

And so it happened: our class of 24 was cut into half, 12 of us remained and finish our schooling in the confine of the seminary; the other half of the class were scattered into various catholic schools of the diocese, wherever that seminarian resides. Did the event change those left behind to kowtow? Not really, we still continued our mischief, albeit more carefully this time. We never lost touch; we regularly see each other every chance we had. We got reunited as one batch on our graduation day; that was one concession we got, that we will all march and graduate in the seminary grounds as one class.

:)

Next: Ulan Story No. 3: A Walk in the Rain

Ulan Story No. 1: Age of Innocence

It’s raining very hard outside, and here I am at work wishing I’m someplace else. Oh well, at least the rain just gave me an idea to write about my unforgettable ulan (rain) stories; I have narrowed them down to three most unforgettable ulan stories:

Ulan Story No. 1: Age of Innocence

It’s really a very harmless story that happened when I was in grade school; it really stuck in my mind for it served to remind me of the good times I had in grade school; when somehow, I still have that child’s sense of wonder and innocence.

I was enrolled in one of the 2 public schools in our town; a really small town with population of under 15,000 (that was during the mid-70’s). I remember I started late in my 4th grade class for reason that I didn’t want to attend the class I was initially assigned. I must have already missed about 2 or 3 days of school when I joined this new class; I was traumatized with my previous year’s stay in the honor section as I really felt I was too bobo for that class, so I was really adamant to be transferred (my mother was a teacher in that school so it was not really that impossible.) Anyway, I felt relieved when on the first day that I joined my 4th grade class everyone were so friendly, especially my new seatmate, Eugene.

I’ve heard stories about him; he was one of the cutest in our batch (come to think of it, even at that young age I already know how to appreciate cute guys, just as I appreciate pretty girls); he was named lover boy, a moniker he earned when he was caught smooching with one of the pretty girls of the batch (yup, even at that young age); but I would say compared to the other supposedly cute members of the batch he was fairly down to earth with no trace of air in the head. And so we begun a beautiful friendship sealed by one experience in the rain.

School during those times was considered an extension of one’s home. As such, we took pride and all share a sense of ownership to our classroom. We clean and polish the floors, our desks; cabinets etc; do the decoration and really take care of all the upkeeps of the room and its surrounding. We all have our assignments and we dutifully followed them.

It was just a month from the start of class when Eugene and I got to be responsible for the class’ drinking water supply. Typical of youngster’s resourcefulness, we found a place to get our water without so much the hassle of queuing with the rest of the school. It was just outside the school premises, through the back; the only hitch was that it was a bit tricky getting there; we have to carefully tread a grassy, steep incline that drops to a small creek, then jump from one boulder to another in order to cross and then climb a less steep but bushy incline into the other side where there's a big water faucet located just a short distance from the town’s main water tank. And so that morning that we were to fetch water we decided to still use that track despite knowing that it would be pretty slippery as it has been continuously drizzling. Lugging 2-3 water jugs each in our arms we carefully negotiated the slippery steep descent into the creek. As we were doing so we were happily singing “leron-leron sinta” with lyrics altered to reflect what were doing; fetching water. To make the long story short, midway to our trek I slipped, landed on my butt and skidded down stopping only as I hit a big boulder; this happened just as we were on the part of the song that says “pagdating sa dulo nabali ang sanga…” It was really painful; scary for I almost hit my head in the boulder; and much more, embarrassing for I have a big wet, soiled spot in my short; but we both had a good laugh and even continued singing loudly this time as he helped me clean up all the soil in my short. That has been our secret, I never asked him not to tell; but nevertheless he never did tell anyone. It has become our private joke and we really became close and inseparable after that. I will always remember how we would usually walk all the way home from school side by side with our arms in each other’s shoulders, whistling or singing whatever tune we would fancy.

I would say that, that was the only time that I really enjoyed going to school, I felt so at ease with no worries; I felt no pressure to excel academically. We really had fun; he was my very first best friend, enjoying, sharing: We shared food and even had this odd habit of putting garlic-spiced vinegar to our rice porridge. We shared secrets, crushes and dreams; we would always sneak out during noon time looking for an open radio to listen to the day’s episode of the adventure of Zimatar (a popular radio program during the 70’s); we were together when we sneaked and ogled at the legs, panties and boobs of some movie starlet swimming in the town’s only swimming pool during breaks of their movie shoot; we attended our first supposedly children’s birthday party, but picture this: children’s party with no balloons, clowns and party hats; we actually dressed like adults; pants and long-sleeved shirt with us boys in our pomade-combed hair; sipping a mildly gin-spiked juice; having truth or dare for parlor game with kiss as the constant dare; dancing the then popular el-bimbo and sweet dancing with our pretty crushes and classmates. I even had my first kiss with him; as I mentioned he had a moniker of being a lover boy as he was once caught smooching with a girl, and silly me I innocently asked him how was it like, how did he do it and all that innocent curiosity stuff and so he showed me and gave me my first kiss, just a quick peck in the lips actually, but it was so sweet. Mind you, those were done without any form of malice; but rather all part of child’s exploration and curiosity. We did so many other stuffs together.

Unfortunately, I lost him after that school year. They are relatively well off; they own one of the bigger houses in town, his parents were traders of rice and their family own tracts of land, but threat to their lives forced them to leave town; I never really got to know the details; they left as soon as the school year ended and I never heard from him since. We promised to keep in touch, but that was '70s; what resources are available to a 10-year old kid back then to really keep that promise? But I will always remember my grade school years for the fun that I had shared with him, my best friend during that time.


Next: Ulan Story No. 2: Teen’s stormy Angst

:)

Home is?!

The newspaper headline story this morning talks about the capture of rebel soldiers in a house somewhere in a village where I live. Hey, the house in the accompanying photo looks familiar; I’ve been there, I know the owner of that house. Wow! It hits me I live in a neighborhood where I don’t really know much what is happening. It was like the time just a couple of months ago when my nephew had to point out to me one of the teen contestants in a reality TV show as the kid next door who sometimes took afternoon nap in my bed whenever they use the TV in my room for their video games.

Home is said to be the place where one lives; to me it has become nothing more but just a place to sleep and occasionally have meals. In fact I’ve never really known any of our neighbors for the almost 10 years that I’ve been living there; heck I don’t even know the rest of the village aside from the street where the house I’m supposed to be living in is located.

What has become of me? Here I am, at work even on a Saturday. Oh well, it's a fact I really don’t have any day-off coz I’m on-call anytime of the day, 24/7. Work has become my home so to speak; it's a way of life. People sometimes tell me to get a life, but this is my life. It may be difficult, tiring and consuming but still this is the life I choose and I’m living it. There might be some trade-off for this kind of life but that is a fact of life I have to accept. As I said, I’m happy doing what I’m doing otherwise I wouldn’t be living what I’m doing.

... or am I just trying to convince my self? I hope not.
:)

Musing II: Fallacy: Being Gay is a Choice

Whoever said homosexuality is a choice must be out of his mind, for how can anyone ever choose a life that is different, a life full of uncertainties, a life that is lonely at times because of all the suffering and pain one has to endure because of the connotation of the label.

It is certainly not a choice; it is the very essence of a man.

Why people persist on seeing this as a choice is no mystery; for it serves to satisfy and protect the righteousness of ethics and conduct; the law of morals and logic dictates that no one has the right to put in question the essence of a person; but it is just, proper and right to measure one’s choices within the justice of common morals and standards.

I say it is not a choice I made; my being gay is the essence of my being and as such I don’t have to explain my existence; I have the right to demand respect for my being, just as I respect everyone else’s existence.
:)

my friendly date...

This is just to put to rest the pestering request for account of my friendly date with my Friend. We were supposed to see Superman at I-max, unfortunately and fortunately there were no more tickets available for the day’s screening. And so we just spent the next one and a half hour or so waiting for our number to be called as we queued for our advance ticket booking. We had dinner afterwards and just walked around the mall the rest of the night. So that was how the supposedly friendly date went.

We talked mostly to catch up on things we have left off since the last time we saw each other. We did not talk about “us” or whatever happened to us. There was no mention or question whether either of us is seeing someone new; I just presumed he’s not seeing anyone and as everyone knows I’m not either. Was there any awkward moments? Probably on the initial part: I had mixed feeling of nervousness and excitement as I was driving to our usual meeting place. I picked him up at the usual spot and as he walked towards the car, I just stared at him walk as I realized how much I have missed him; I really got so nervous that as he settle down in the car I can’t really bear myself to look him in the eye. But as we drove on, and as minutes and hours passed everything settled down and I became more at ease. I can’t speak for him but I can sense he was nervous as hell too. He’s okay; he looks happy and contented; he looked good actually; he’s basically the same Friend as I have known him.

It was not a painful experience as some may have imagined it to be. All throughout, and I don’t want to be called a hypocrite and so i'm saying this: yes, I really wished I could have hold and kissed him again; but it's not to be. It’s not like I’m foolishly holding on, but I was and am surely glad we have remained friends. Do I still love him? There’s really no need to ask; as I said my love goes beyond relationship. Am I prepared to see him with someone else? Painfully difficult it may be, but yes; I’ll say it again as I have said this to my best friend, my love wishes him all the happiness in whomever and whatever form he may find it.
:)

Musing: Of love & Relationships

!? Love goes beyond relationship...
but can relationship go beyond breakup?!

I say...
Love and relationships are entirely two different things; and here’s my not so very simplistic take on this...
Although love cannot be truly defined in just one dimension, one important aspect I always believe love should be is that, it's a commitment to accept a person wholly, complete with faults, warts and all.
Relationship on the other hand is a promise of commitment that can be sealed in a paper of marriage or contract but oftentimes can only be sealed by a very arbitrary point of mutual trust and understanding.
In a way taking this simplistic view, one can surmise that love encompasses to go beyond relationship; and ironic as it may seem, the arbitrariness of trust and understanding can take a relationship even the distance of a breakup.

What say you?!
:)

a simon cowell-wannabe?!? nahhh...

I got invited to be one of the judges in a research paper presentation of residents-in training of my alma mater. I was not actually invited; I was recommended by a friend to do my part for alma mater as he did a year ago. I was hesitant to accept as I certainly do not have any claim of expertise in doing research work much more any mastery in evaluating or grading research papers; my only experience in this area was the requisite research papers I have churned out as part of my residency and fellowship-training back then. Oh well, my excitement gets the better part of me; the anticipation to see my old school certainly overshadowed my fear of lack of competence that I innocently agreed.

Imagine now my horror upon receiving the 7 research papers I have to read and grade. It’s not that I don’t have the patience to read and evaluate them; but scanning through them all, I shiver at the thought that I would have to pass comments and make judgment to a bunch of papers that I don’t think can really pass the grade. The tricky part I think is not choosing the best but choosing which is the least worst among the lot. And the difficulty and somewhat irony of it all is that I, who has no real competence to speak of have to make that judgment, oh well at least I’m just one of the three. But still, it’s going to be one big dilemma on how I would have to do it. Now, I really have to go back and read on my biostatistics and some other research paper-writing books and manuals so that I can at least give a semblance of competence to my comments and judgment.

I’m no Simon Cowell-wannabe; even before Simon Cowell came, friends have already known me for my acerbic commentaries, mincing no words that they actually look for me for a dose of reality check as I usually give fearless and unclouded view of things at hand.
Oh well, let’s see if I can hack it and still get invited after this.
Hahaha…

thought from last night....

The heart of a gay man has been jaded so many times that when confronted with the purity of love, that heart would surely balk at the very idea of it ever happening; terrified of knowing, understanding and accepting the possibilities of it ever happening; and in the process actually perpetuates the cycle of fear and hurt...
:)

"Carry Ko yan"

I had my usual Friday afternoon tête-à-tête with a friend at the cafeteria. The usual chit chats segue into my not so new highlighted golden brown hair. In fact I had to point it out for him to notice the first time he saw me with that new look. Again, he complimented me for looking good in it and we both had a good laugh as I recounted to him how all of a sudden I had no compunction having it done, including the comedic situation of having it actually done. I was ribbing him that perhaps he might want to have his hair dyed as well and during the course he blurted out “hindi ko carry yan” which he immediately corrected as soon as it came out of his mouth, but too late whatever is said is done and cannot be undone. Obviously a slip of the tongue. But nah! I did not pounce on him. I nonchalantly ignored it as a non-issue in deference to his obviously discomfort’s use of the word. Innocent words it may seem, but the words became just so obvious because he immediately corrected himself, a self-censure to disguise what may seem to be an obvious knowledge and use of the gay lingo, at least as I assumed it to be. Was it really a part of gay lingo that he had to immediately correct himself for that? Oh well, for those people in the know it’s a blip-blip, a ching, a bell ringing, a red-flag up that can be easily picked up by a well honed and synced gaydar. But how sharp is my gaydar anyway? It probably needs a lot of sharpening and a lot of tuning coz it obviously is so slow in picking up signal, or is it?

I have known him for close to 10 years already. We go back to our residency-training as batch mates. There were 12 of us in our batch, a pretty close-knit group and through the years we’ve sort of became close as one by one we lost our barkadas to married-family life until there were just 4 of us remaining single. We used to go out a lot sharing the same passion for movies. We even had moviethon on days we don’t want to miss good movies. I must admit I had a huge crush on him way back then, probably fed by voyeuristic opportunity of seeing his yummy ass as he get dressed in the morning during our duty days. I even did something crazy just so I can continue seeing him, but that's another story hahaha...) Somehow that crush fizzled out somewhere I just don’t know when it happened. I now consider him as a good friend, one of the closest friend I have at this profession.

Every now and then my gaydar would pick up something; I just can’t rely if they’re actually tuned and in sync right. So here are some of the ching my gaydar has picked up from him:

1. He’s still single at this age. I have not actually known him pursued any girl on his own. I know he has dated a couple of girls that were actually set up by well-meaning friends. Nothing really came out of it as he has the same lame excuse every time: busy with work that schedule won’t match, not up to standard, etc.

2. A self-confessed Barbara Streisand fan. Oh well, one of the cliché that if you dig Barbara Streisand you must be gay. Or in the local scene - Regine Velasquez. (I don’t know why)

3. He is knowledgeable or at least has seen and/or interested to watch gay-themed and not so obviously gay-themed movies and has actually enjoyed those kind of films.

4. His knowledge or at least occasional slip of the tongue use of gay lingo.

5. He has a “friend” and “business partner” for about 3 years now. In quotation mark because I sense they're more than just “friend” and “business partner.”

Well, those are the things that my rusty gaydar picks up. I just don’t know if it's picking up right. And until I see more proof in the pudding all I can say is “carry ko yan.”

What random thoughts? baka flights of ideas (baliw?!)

I've lost the drive to write…
(e bakit naman kasi kelangan ng drive to write)
so 'e ano ngayon?!

as if naman nobe-nobela ang mga sinusulat ko...
as if naman may nagiintay ng isinusulat
as if naman me nagbabasa nito
as if naman my katuturan ang lahat ng 'ito
as if naman magugunaw ang mundo kung di ako magsulat...
as if naman... as if?!

What else can I write about?

... my life? e boring nga e?!
... my love? e asan na nga ba?!
... my past? e past na nga e!
... politics? e peste na nga makikiletse pa ba?!
... religion? wow!!! baka ma-excom na 'ko?!
... sex?! waaa tigang nga e; tsaka ang sex nilalasap di binabasa
... work? hmmmm... isama pa daw ba ang work sa kagaguhan?
... fiction? e saan ko naman pupulutin ang imagination?!

hay naku... Why do I write anyway?
I write because...

I’m inspired (inspirasyon? ano na nga ba?! e sa nawala na nga e)
I’m down (oh well, angst do feed one’s imagination)
I’m piqued of something, of someone…(di naman ako galit sa mundo)
I’m told to write? hmmmm... am i hearing voices?!

baliw na nga yata ako... Ah basta...
(seryosohin ba?!)
:)

Senti sa Bora June '06

Melancholy is the humble heart that knows what life is...

Discerning challenges thrown as simple measure of it.

Accepting that as much as jubilation is the spirit that transfigure;

So must tribulation be embraced as well as part of transformation

For the heart knows that glum is not just wanting in joy, but whence contentment can also come

pj
june '06

Mission Notes: Tuli or Not Tuli....

Circumcision has been a staple part of our medical-surgical mission held every summer time in the province of aklan. It has been a common sight to see long line of pubertal boys of all shapes and sizes, waiting for their turn to be cut. This has been considered a summer ritual in almost every part of the Philippines. I was even asked to write something about it about 3 years ago, sadly, I did not even get a thank you note for this. I remember this article as one of the 'cutters' commented on how well endowed these boys of aklan are. And just like in a baber shop, most of the times these comments lead to small discourse and here is my take on this...

Tuli or Not Tuli
Myths & Facts of Circumcision

The practice of circumcision has been in existence for more than 6000 years dating back to the snake worship in ancient Egypt, much like the snake shedding off its skin emerging shiny and new again; and so has man by cutting the foreskin has taken this as a sign of rebirth.

Through the years the practice has remained the same – the surgical removal of the sleeve of skin and mucosal tissue that normally covers the glans (head) of the penis. This double layer also called the prepuce is more commonly known as the foreskin. But through the years what has differed is the connotation attached to this practice; Religious – Judaism, Islam and Christian as part of religious rite and as a form of covenant; Moral – especially during the Victorian era when it was used as a deterrent for masturbation with the notion that it reduces sexual sensitivity compounded by the salutary effect of pain on the mind especially if it is associated with the idea of punishment; and during the last century its intent for medical and hygienic purposes.

In the Philippines, circumcision has traditionally been a rite of passage for adolescent boys. A tradition embellished with myths and association with the development of secondary sexual characteristics like growth in height, penile length and sexual prowess to name just a few. Familial and peer pressure plays a dominant role in this tradition. And this supposedly a pure male thing is further reinforced by the female population’s own belief in myths about circumcised men and its association with machismo. In this age of evidence-based medicine, this can arguably be called a needless hangover of Victorian era mindset.

Some of the medical benefits offered for its continued practice include reduction in the risk of childhood urinary tract infection, reduction in the risk of sexually transmitted diseases and HIV; and reduction in the risk of penile cancer as well as cervical cancer for the female sexual partner. All of these risk reduction benefits were all attributed to the notion that a circumcised penis is cleaner and more hygienic. However, historical and scientific data does not clearly support these supposedly medical benefits. This prompted the American Academy of Pediatrician to issue a policy statement “potential benefit of infant circumcision aren’t significant enough and therefore not recommended as a routine procedure.”

Debunking the myths starts with proper education supported by clear medical evidence that point’s circumcision does not improve male hygiene. In most of the western world this practice has already been discarded. In the US particularly, the practice has gone down to less than 60% starting in the 1990’s compared to as high as more than 90% during the early 1900’s. In the Philippines, tradition clearly plays a much bigger role than scientific evidence, that it would be an oddity to encounter uncircumcised men.

There is no clear medical evidence that would point to the readiness of a child to undergo circumcision. This is a rite of passage, a tradition that every Filipino male adolescent must undergo. Scientific evidence have already shown that there is no clear medical benefits and the only indication for its continued use is the presence of a medical condition called phimosis, which is the continued adherence of the foreskin to the glans of penis well beyond the adolescent years. Full retraction of the foreskin, completely exposing the glans, should not be taken as a sign of readiness. More than anything else the psychological maturity of the child should be the gauge of his readiness. On the average this has been set at 10-15 years of age, the early stage of adolescence, when the unpleasant experience would not cause much psychological harm. Nonetheless, the decision to undergo the procedure must come from the boy himself, an important decision on his part that may signify the degree of his rationalization and the level of maturity he has achieved. Although, this is not really completely true and acceptable, for possibly how can submitting to peer pressure and tradition resolve the inner conflicts and changes that an adolescent child faces at this stage. Experts would point out that this is the important stage of a child’s psychological development where adjustments takes place and the period when a child redefines his individuality and his complex relationships with people around him.

Supporting the child’s decision is an important part a parent can do to participate. Traditional or “pukpok” type of circumcision has largely been replaced with more modern and sterile method. The use of local anesthesia to eliminate the pain of the procedure has greatly reduced the trauma associated with the procedure. These have also resulted in largely reducing the possible complications that may arise which includes, hemorrhage and infection, the two most important. Suturing the cut edges of the foreskin or the use of electrocautery are some of the modern methods employed to control bleeding. This has largely replaced the traditional way of bleeding-control by having the boy jumps to the river right after the circumcision, the desired effect of which is the constricting effect of the cold water on the blood vessels and thereby stopping the bleeding. The sterility of the procedure performed in a hospital or clinic obviates the need for soaking or cleaning the wound with boiled guava leaves, which has been largely used for its antimicrobial property, although the unsanitary preparation of this concoction leads to more frequent infection most of the times. A 3-5 day course of broad-spectrum antibiotic is also employed to reduce the risk of infection, although this is rarely necessary if the procedure has been strictly performed under a sterile condition The other rarely seen complications include, incorrect removal of tissue resulting to disfigurement of the penis (either bowed/curved during erection); cyst, lymphedema, fistula and necrosis. Post-operative pain control can usually be achieved with administration of analgesic, paracetamol given every 4-6 hours.

Post-circumcision wound care, just like any other wound care includes cleaning with antiseptic solution like betadine and application of new sterile dressing once it becomes soiled with urine or soaked with dirt and perspiration. The use of vaselinized gauze is sometimes preferred in order to prevent the adhesion of raw wound/skin to the gauze; otherwise removal and changing of the dressing would be a very painful and difficult exercise. Bath is usually advised after 24-48 hours and daily bath with soap and water is sufficient for daily hygiene once the wound starts to dry up. Healing usually takes 7-14 days, although this could sometimes extend to 4-6 weeks if there were significant inflammation or hematoma formation. Loose fitting trousers are to be worn, not just to prevent the wound coming in contact with the clothing material but also more for the sensitive thin skin of the unprotected/uncovered glans now directly exposed and in constant contact with the clothing material. This would eventually make the skin of glans, cornified in essence a thickened and less sensitive skin, an adoptive response to the now exposed glans penis.

Arguments can be raised here and now. But it would certainly take several more lifetime before circumcision becomes just a matter of choice for Filipino men. Until such time, tuli or not tuli is not yet an appropriate question to ask a Filipino man, for needless tradition still dictates it has to be tuli.

May '04

Postscript from last night...

Yes my dear F, what we had is real. A short-lived affair as it may have been. I thank you for the moments’ shared; for the joy of sharing and basking immensely; and for the courage, honesty and sincerity to face up to the reality of the moment.

I truly admire your courage when you speak of your worries and uncertainty to truly give yourself; but I say to you: there’s no measure for the immensity of what you have already given me: the chance to give myself freely and sincerely. A measure that I always thought I was not capable, for I have always thought of myself as too selfish, incapable of truly committing and giving myself to anyone. This realization has redeemed me. And for this reason alone I hold no rancor but have actually grown more respect and admiration for you.

I hold you dear and will always love you for the person that you are and for the person that I have become because of you. I’ll be here as a friend, always.


Sincerely,
pj

Out to be discovered: it's just another way

I have recounted this story almost the same time or shortly after “my coming out” story. I just had to rehash this for the reason that I was recently confronted by the reality of being discovered again recently.

And to you my friend for discovering my world, hum the song “Vincent” as you read on….

Out to be discovered: this has been my attitude. There’s no need to hide or make up story for the web of confusion and lies will eventually caught up to tie me down and even raze my being. I have come to this realization when confronted with the realizaty that I have been discovered.

It is difficult to come out, considering all the demons one has to wrestle with; there are people involve: it’s not just the one who is coming out but equally important are the people on the receiving end. The bigger issue is not so much on the approval or acceptance but rather on the realization that the receiver has to face the fact as well. It is the very process itself of being confronted with the reality.

“They know that I know that they know” a very superficial presumption that I have always held in belief when dealing with family and friends. I don’t want to be complacent to think that my family and friends are so naive not to know or even notice. Part of my assumption is that they too, don't know how to open up, how to come out, ask and say it loud. It just so happen that circumstances most of the times put the burden on the giver to initiate the process. I have experienced that in the not too recent past to one of my high school friends, a close knit circle of friends I have always considered part of my extended family.

How did this happen? In one of our usual get-together one of them sidled up to me and started a conversation, opening with the usual and almost nauseating line of 'kelan ka mag-aasawa?' I could sense where he's leading, but more blah, blah, blah... almost stretching to more than an hour of more blah, blah, blah… He was actually more nervous and anxious than I was the whole time that he downed several bottles of beer while I just had one. I wanted to remain sober and in control for the eventuality, if ever this will lead to the inevitable.
Finally he said “I know that you know that I know…”
I replied simply “I know that you know that I know what?”
Unlike in a shoot out, no one wanted draw and shoot first, so blah, blah, blah... and more blah, blah, blah... finally he got the courage to say “c'mon, you can tell me...”
I said “tell what?” still feigning innocence/ignorance and this goes on for another half hour or so and I was actually enjoying every minute of it; seeing him so discomfited, uncomfortable...
Finally, I have to back down and help him out. I said “you know what? Ask me directly the question and I'll give it to you straight; the deal is, I won't give you a straight answer unless you have the courage to ask me directly the very question you've been dying to ask.”
He must have downed another bottle or 2 of beer and I literally have to coax him to blurt out the question before he finally said, not so much as a question but rather more of a statement “are you gay?”
I answered without hesitation “yes.”
It was just a short silence after that, and then we both heaved a sigh of relief and really had a good laugh, that some of our friends in the other table stopped their own discourse and looked at us. I really don't know if they had actually heard any of our conversation and I don't really care if they had come to know as well. I told him he was the only one I have told this for the simple reason that he was the only one who had the courage to seriously ask. If any of my friends and family would dare ask me the same question, I wouldn't hesitate to tell them the truth, otherwise I don't feel any obligation to proclaim to the whole world, who I am.

pj
june '06

Thought for today...

... never be discouraged, for challenges spring forth transformation

embracing triumphs and tribulations...

:)

Fear and happiness

"... There is no reason to feel proud or to feel guilty.
There are only reasons to feel happy."

Truly, there are only reasons to feel happy:

even with the scary thought of tomorrow,
for happiness has brought me today from yesterday;

even with the fear of what choices bring,
for happiness dwell in the choices made;

even with the dread of sense coming true,
for happiness soars from all desires fulfilled;

even with the horror of pain foretold;
for happiness is born out of suffering;

even with the foreboding realization of tomorrow
for happiness lies in the truth revealed today...

Truly, there are only reasons to feel happy;
As I am truly Happy...

(:

I'm a Macho Dancer (MD).... nyahahaha i wish

I’m a Macho Dancer (nyahahaha… I wish)
(A true story fictionalized)

I’m a Macho Dancer (MD) by profession but in the last three years my dancing skills has been relegated to the sideline, as I do more administrative function as assistant floor manager in the newest club in town. In fact, I’ll be celebrating my 3rd year anniversary as assistant floor manager in a couple of week’s time. Not so many people covet this job; what with the hassle of dealing both with the customers and the other dancers, not to mention getting myself involve as well in the other nitty-gritty part of the club operation. Others envy my position as I’m a step closer to being the floor manager, an enviable position of power in the club to say the least.

How did I end up in this job anyway? My only claim to fame was when I was once hailed as “king of the ramp” a title I got as chief MD when I was still a struggling dancer in another club. I was sort of pirated when this new club opened its door in 2002. I’m a hard worker, though my specialty is lap-dancing, I sort of multi-tasked and perform all kinds of dance and routines during the initial stage of this club. The owners and the previous manager must have seen my perseverance and potential that soon I was rising thru the ranks until I got to this present position. It was a hard climb. A lot of people were wondering why I would accept this kind of job when I’m not even at the prime of my dancing career. They said I should just concentrate as an MD as I still have to learn a lot in the art of macho dancing and that certainly I can earn more, given that I’m young, nubile and can actually juggle to dance and do other tricks in other clubs.

Customers can also be possessive as offers to dance exclusively, even to the point of being a kept man has come my way; that was the power of the charm I weave with every dance I make. I have been a macho dancer for 10 years already, but the bigger part of those years I have spent perfecting my craft as a dutiful student of lap-dancing, learning and perfecting all the twists, turns and weaving magical movements in unison with the music. That is my dedication; for what I always have in mind is to take into heart the art of my profession which is to create magic and bring each customer to illusion of orgasmic proportion. All my hard work recently bear fruition when I recently got recognition from my mentors through a resounding applause and standing ovation in one of the dances I have recently perfected. That was a sweet joy to be recognized by your mentor as an equal and not as student anymore. But that is the caveat that I wouldn’t want not to remember, that as an MD I’ll forever be a student who has to continuously learn and explore new things how to weave that magic and charm; for I know in the heart of my heart that the time I stop on learning would have to be the time that I have to retire my dancing boots.

That is my work, my profession. I do things because I love doing it and I’ll keep on doing it because I find happiness in it; and happiness is all that matter in this journey of life.

june 6

Epilogue to "My Coming Out"

Epilogue to my Coming Out

“My Coming Out” has been a major turning point. I have come to terms with my self; my own self-acceptance more than anything else. What happened since then? What did I really want to achieve and what have I realized with that coming out? These are the questions I’d like to probe as I retrace back the 2 years since.

Communication did not stop after the “matagal ko ng alam yun” conversation. Life continued as it was albeit more openly. We did not probe deeper into our revelations just as no regret was ever expressed over what could have been. He reconciled with his guy and I continued my own search. He came home for vacation more than a year after that revelation. I anticipated his homecoming with mixed feeling of nervousness and excitement. Excitement, for we’ll be seeing each other after five long years. Nervousness for despite the conversations we had over the phone and in the net, each other’s comfort would still need to be realized when we come face to face.

I arrived at the airport just in time as he was walking out of the arrival area gate. He looked just the same, except for some excess baggage in the belly. The initial meeting was a bit uneasy: I didn’t know whether to hug him or not; in the end we just gave each other a firm handshake and a pat in the back. The morning sun was just up; the clime was just fine and right; everything looks perfectly fine that is until he starts complaining how humid it was, how expensive the breakfast we had, how heavier I looked since he last saw me; how pathetically boring I was… Oh well, everything was indeed alright, we’re back to our brutal banters, so typical of us, our own carino brutal. We spent the rest of the day running errands mostly. We never had a chance to really spend time together; we initially planned to have an out of town trip but I have work to do and he felt compelled to do the errands for his elder sister and brother who also came home a week apart of each other. We just contented seeing each other doing groceries, running errands and having dinner here and there. We even had a spat one time: we were supposed to meet in a mall for dinner, I came a bit late and had mixed up instructions on where to meet that we ended up not meeting at all; he just walked out and I let him. We did not speak to each other for a day; we just continued as if nothing happened when he texted me to pick him up to go to mass and have dinner the following day. So typical of us, no one ever said sorry for anything and it was just a few days before he leaves. I absent myself from work on the day he was to leave. We did some last minute errands and shopping. We said our sorry on our way to the airport; that is before a litany of lament: him to me for not making time, not planning on my leaves to be with him; me to him for announcing to everyone of his coming that everyone seemed to have taken advantage of, leaving him no time really but to do errands. Our promise: next time I’ll file my leaves ahead of time and he’s not to tell anyone he’s going home, so he can really have a vacation. We briefly hugged as I left him at the airport. We still keep in touch, now sharing more openly each other’s pains and triumph. He still lives with his guy and I have done another “stupid me” and have met my current and hopefully lasting muse of reflections. We have remained the best of friends more than ever.

Letting go it seemed was what I was about to do when I decided to come clean to him. Looking back it really seemed to be a very big risk, the risk of possibly loosing our friendship. Besides, it has always been at the back of my mind that I can never really love another person, to be straightforward, refuse to truly love another person because of him; that loving another person would be tantamount to betrayal of my love for him. This reasoning has always held me back in my previous attempt at relationships; I have always reserved a part of me for him, in case he does feel the same way and reciprocate. And that the only way for me to move on is to confront and risk everything that I have always considered so dear to me. My point was that, if ever he would not reciprocate, then that would give me the reason to move on and possibly find love in another person. However, looking back this has not been the end of it all. I realized that coming out to him was not really an act of ‘letting go’ but merely an act of redeeming the part of our friendship that has been cast in doubt. It has freed me from my own, self-imposed shackle of emotional blackmail; that loving another person would never be a betrayal on my part; and that in fact, refusing to truly love another person would be more of a betrayal of my being as a person. I have come to realize that yes; I am perfectly capable of loving another person. But that another person must also come to realize and accept the whole of me; accept that I have loved him and will always love him because he has become a part of me, he is a part of what I have become… who I am now. I have proven it when I let my self become so stupid because of A. And that realization became even more evident when I met F: it is only now that I realized that I have to borrow will’s word “freed myself from the world of unexpressed emotions…” when I no longer hold back and have in fact allowed myself to be so immersed and truly give what I have, sincerely.

pj
June 5, 2006)

On second thought... reposting: "my coming out"

Today, I have just revised my blog, removed “stupid me” but then I realized, the first “stupid me” was really an essential part of the journey I’m taking now; that was my coming out story that gave me all these current realization…

It has also served as impetus to others. When I initially posted it (August 2004) in one of the yahoo groups, I received a lot of inspiring comments, a couple of them thanking me, for the story served as their own impetus…

And so I’m reposting the first “stupid me” re-titled “my coming out…” I have included some of the comments; including one particular letter…


MY COMING OUT....

I have a best friend for a little more than 15 years now. Our friendship dates back when we were classmates in college, back in the mid to late 80s. We did not actually hit it off right the first time. He was with his own set of barkadas already and I was just a new transferee in the school. My first impression of him was he was mayabang in all sense of the word, including his circle of friends who are loud and territorial with him obviously as their center attraction. I can’t recall anymore what happened next, but we eventually gravitated towards each other. We became close that his friends begun saying nasty remarks about me. They never got what they wanted; he stuck it out with me. When finally they realized they would not have it their way, they grudgingly accepted me to their group and I did the same. We were one happy class after that; with his good looks and charm, he was always the center of attention; and I was always at his side the nerdy and mataray one, having stamped my own presence in the class. We were quiet a pair, perfect example of opposite attracts. We were inseparable during those times, at school and even off school.

Things changed after graduation when we had to go on separately. We both wanted the same career path; unfortunately he never got the grade to make it. I wanted to stop then, but he pushed me to go on. He pursued another course while I went on with my own. Communication was reduced to telephone calls and occasional hang out at the mall for dinner and movie. This eventually led to tampuhan over something I can’t even recall now. The wall was only broken when he called to invite me on his oath taking after he passed the board exam. Just like in old times, I volunteered to help him prepare his dinner celebration. Well, that was his faith in me to whip out edible, delectable dishes. During the night when most of his guests were already leaving and while I was checking the food, he hugged me from behind, kissed me in the cheek and whispered “I love you my friend and thanks for everything.” Actually he said that after rambling and mumbling some other things about the food and his guests. I jokingly replied, “Yeah, you’re just too drunk.” He nodded, quickly retreated and went on to see some more of his guests off. That was enough for me. I’ll never forget that instance; one rare moment he openly expressed his care, for he is one guy who instantly recoils at the very first instance of mushiness.

That day started us going on again. He started working, and I became busy again with my training, that we lost track of each other save for occasional telephone conversations and seeing each other on special occasions. We eventually lost track of each other for a year or two until the week before he was to leave for work abroad. He called to say he was leaving and left me with some of his things. Internet was not yet so popular back then that our communication was through postal mail once a month. I would keep him bored with my toxic life here, but never had the guts to tell him on my “other” escapades; he would always tell me how proud he was of me every time I complained of all the hardships I had to go through. He traveled a lot on his vacation leaves but made sure to come home at least once a year for the three or four years that he worked overseas. Every time he came home he would make sure I know of the exact date and that a week had gone by before he announced to his other friends that he’s home. Though he would grumble that I had no time for him, (I was still in training back then); he would patiently wait for me to finish my work before he bugs me to rush home for dinner he prepared or any take out that I bought. For the most part, we would just spend time watching movies or downing booze in the bars, pouring his heart out, his frustrations and his plans and dreams he would want to accomplish. In it, there would always be some part for me; and every time I would just laugh it off, dismiss it without saying a word.

The last time he was home was during the middle of “EDSA dos.” He was heartbroken: He came home supposedly to marry his girlfriend. He came complete with an expensive wedding ring. I was to stand as his best man. They never got married coz the girl’s family does not want him and even looked down upon him. She did not want to be disowned by her family, so she compromised to postpone the wedding until her family can learn to accept him. Sensing the girl would not even fight for him, he broke it off altogether. I was caught in the middle; the girl would constantly call on me. First hand, she told me how much she did not like me (though we’ve met only once); that she felt insecure with all the things she got to know about me through him, that she cannot compete with me for his trust, but that she had no choice but get to me if she wanted him back. In all my katarayan I told her ‘yeah, I know him better than you do; we’ve been friends for so long and you only came when, the last 2-3 years?” Nevertheless, I promised her I’d try my best to patch things up. I did, but I can only give my own perspective; I never pushed anyone to do things that one cannot accept and decide on their own. So he went back to work without anything clear. After 6 months he moved to US when he got his working visa. He would constantly call me to check on her: to pass on a message, to give her his number and vice versa. All of these I did dutifully, at some point it stopped, maybe due to exasperation or they must have seen its futility.

He would still constantly call and send e-mail messages (thank god, he finally learned how to use the internet). Messages became peppered with ‘miss you,’ ‘love you’ and ‘love you more.’ I started it and it seemed perfectly okay with him so it was a non-issue at all. He’s been bugging me to come visit him since he can’t go home until he has his green card. If I had the time and money, I would have done so, a long time ago. He always jokingly says that I have to save up and get my own place so he can come home for good and just stay with me as his alalay; that I have to make it good so I can take care of him. He always took care of me when we were still studying. I was always tempted to say something to ride on his joke, if it was indeed just a joke but, as always, I never said a word.

He never failed to call on special occasions, I even commented on his perfect timing for he would also call during the times that I have problems or when I’m down. So that when he failed to call on my last birthday, I e-mailed him how he could have forgotten, not even a card this time, which he usually sends weeks in advance. He still did not call, but replied thru e-mail that he did not forget, he was sorry but he was just so depressed over loosing someone, he just broke off with a guy. A guy? I was shocked, nah, more of surprised; not that I didn’t know or was completely clueless, but this was the first time he broke the barrier of our assumption; the ‘I know that you know that I know’ kind of assumption. Never have we discussed openly this part of our lives, it was always implied, or so I thought; none of us had the courage to say it openly until now. I didn’t know how to respond, so I nonchalantly e-mailed back okay and gave him my spiel on love and relationship. That relationship takes more than love to hold it together, that what is important is to end it while there’s still love, there is no use going on a relationship if there’s no more happiness in it, if one is miserable. I had to pound him with messages to move on, I just don’t know if I was getting through; weeks passed until I think, they got back together.

Finally, he called a month or so later; he was unusually serious. He confirmed they are still together, but he’s still not so happy. And at the same breath he also said he is contented and happy. That he is ready to die because he already got what he wished for: his own place, car, money, well paying job and in a matter of days his green card and “I have you and my family” I was struck by his words, he is contented and happy, because he has me? He did not say him, he said ‘you,’ and that is me… me… me! Oh well, so typical of me, I got scared and did not pursue, instead I asked him what’s in him that he can’t seem to move on. He did not say anything except to say he is still confused on what he really wants. He then jokingly said “ikaw kasi, di mo ako isinasama sa plano mo.” And on a more serious tone he added, that he is ready to give up everything he has to move back here. I got so tongue-tied; I did not really know how to handle everything. I only said, “lobat na ako” well that was true, we’ve been talking for more than an hour on my drive home, but I could have just run up to my room to charge that damn phone. I was already slumped sitting in the front step of our home. Stupid me, what was I thinking about?

I did not sleep well that night and the night after that and the night after that… I kept on thinking what I could have said. I could have told him everything: about how I feel; about how I could not keep on completely committing my self to anyone else because of him; how I always wished we’d end up together, grow old together; how much I love and care for him. I never really cared how he would take it, if he would reciprocate what I feel for him, if ever he would reject me. But so stupid of me, I can never get the courage to tell him that. He asked me if I’m ready to face death now as he is. I told him no., but I did not tell him the reason why. I did not have the courage to tell as he openly did. I still have to tell him everything before I can completely say that yes, I too am contented and happy as you are.

I could have said this and that… I could have done this and that… I could have…

These are simple words that kept on ringing on my mind, an afterthought that offers endless possibilities. Possibilities that are real and imagined blurred of any distinction on what is true and not. What is true anyway? What he says I believe is true, but what about the things left unsaid? They must also be true for how can they be imagined when I feel otherwise.

Ahhh, feeling! That is it! I was so soaked up with so many reasons my mind dictates that I forgot to recognize the most basic peculiarity a human being has: emotion, feeling. Reason has made me so inured. Yes, it has brought me where I am now, but am I completely happy? Shall I now let my instinct rule my mind? I could have… this and that, but what if fate really dictates what happened? What if, it was really meant to be that way? Am I going against the tide of destiny if I acted on what I could have said and done? What is destiny anyway, my destiny? Oh yes, my destiny is my journey, a journey with all the risks, which I was not willing to take, too afraid to take. I have toyed around with my destiny far too long. I now have to take the journey lain out before me; risk is nothing but just a part of it

The alchemist has said that the universe shall conspire to realize one’s dream; all you need to do is listen to whatever your heart dictates. So listen I did to my heart, though my mind said otherwise; and write a letter I did. (I thought of including here the letter I sent him but decided not to, I already sent it to him as my ‘gift’ so it’s not for me to share anymore). In that letter I too, finally broke the barrier of our assumption. I told him I wanted to come clean, to reclaim my pride of being honest and true especially to him. I admitted my being not so straight as an arrow; I admitted how much I love and care for him; that my love wishes him all the happiness he can find in whatever form and whomever this he will find; and that the only thing I can give him is my undying friendship and love.

It took me days and the completion of the first part of this story before I can hit the send button. That is it. I cannot do what ricky davao’s character did in ‘American Adobo’ - fly all the way from New York to Manila just in time to intercept a letter. I finally did it! Did I felt relieved? In a way yes, I became calm and happy despite being fidgety at times with all the thoughts, questions and, unknown possibilities that came rushing into my mind.

Everything is done but the waiting… and more waiting. I never left my phone out of my sight just in case he calls. It has to be fully charged all the time just in case… I must not accept other call just in case… I have to get out past from the basement parking where there is no signal just in case… I have to sleep with my phone beside me just in case… But a day has passed and there was no call. I must have hit that send/receive button a hundred times the following day just to make sure I was not missing anything. But no e-mail message either. Oh, yeah! He said he’ll be working double shift this week, so that must be it, he must be just too tired to log on and check his mail. Another day has gone by and still no response. I started cursing myself… what have I done? Did I scare him? Did I just loose my very best friend? I should have just left everything as it was, maybe that was really my destiny and I tried to alter it. Maybe I should have just taken comfort with the assumption; at least I would still have that glimmer of hope unlike now when I must have already lost everything. So many other questions came and went unanswered or came with more questions but still with no answer. Even morbid thoughts came rushing in: Isn’t it that he spoke of death when he told me he was contented and happy? Is it possible that…? Was it his premonition, his last…? Oh god, please no!!! I can never forgive myself… I have to call him; I have to call him to make sure he’s okay. Did he change his cell number? Why is it not on service? I have forgotten his landline; damn that’s what I get for expecting him to always make the call. He must be okay; if he is not his family must have already been all over his place and his brother or one of his sisters must have already called me by now, that is if they still got my number. Hey! What am I thinking about? Maybe he has not read it yet. Maybe he is still too tired with all the work he has not log on for quiet sometime. Or maybe, he must have already read it and I was wrong and he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. Maybe…. maybe…

By the third day I was already resigned with my fate, whatever it may be. I must give him time, all the time he needs if time can heal the wound and pain I must have caused him. But how could he, after all these years? Another 2 days has passed still no call or e-mail message from him; life has to go on. I have to move on, that’s my mind telling me, but my heart says hang on. I can do nothing more but just wait. Finally, I got a call on the fifth day, just a short call, I was in the mall having dinner after pouring my heart out in the EDSA shrine, and he was just up readying for work: He said, “What’s new?” I nearly choked on the food I was eating the first time I said hello! After some more pleasantries he asked again, “what’s new”? To my mind, oh that’s my cue, how stupid of me!

And so I asked, “the e-mail I sent you, have you read it? Isn’t that new”? I can literally hear my heartbeat, waiting for the answer, which did not really take so long. He replied simply, “matagal ko ng alam yun”

“Ahhhh…” that was me heaving a sigh of relief.

“and so?” I wanted to probe more.

He just repeated what he said, “matagal ko ng alam” then added, “I’m still confused on what I really want.” I don’t really know if it was just me who kept on hearing it repeatedly on my head or he really said again the words “matagal ko ng alam.” He kept on rambling on, but my head was already swimming god knows where. Then it dawned on me, how foolish of me? How could I have doubted him? Love need not be discussed between us. Love speaks for itself, in its own language that we have understood long ago. Just like the comfort of silence we have come to accept between us. How foolish of me, I have told him this a long time ago; that one true test of our friendship has been the level of comfort we have achieved; that we no longer feel uncomfortable with silent pause between us; when silence does not compel anyone of us to say anything just to fill a void, for there is really no void to fill. Just the mere presence of being together is enough to fill any void; there is already a connection that no words can ever fill and he understood this, I have just forgotten; and now I remember, clearly. Love is the same thing; it is never discussed coz no words can ever capture the boundless emotion that one truly feels.

Although, he never said it in so many words, I understood him well. I need not ask him so many questions. I have gone through the same phase and it is only he who can resolve that inner conflict in him. I can never force him on anything; I know that somehow he really is happy knowing it by heart that we have, and will always have each other; and knowing and understanding this makes me immensely happy as well.

Well that is as far as the story goes for now, there is still no ‘the end’ for as I write this, the story still continues. I’m looking forward to the day of his homecoming, just like in old days.


pj August 2004

cryptic point from last night...

The night’s tempest gives morning calm

For the night speaks of an ironic tale

A tale understood for the words not said

For the heart heard more than the lips did say

Indeed words left hanging has more meaning

Now I wait for the lips to complete what the heart has to say

:)

to the muse of my reflections... "waitlisted"

My Dear F

I really don’t know if you hate mushy and cheesy stuff so don’t hate me more for this…

In Paulo Coelho’s “The Devil and Miss Prym” one of his notes read: “…When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny.”

This led me into asking the question… “Does it take one instant, one week or one eternity to know you love a person?” That is the question I keep on asking myself when confronted by the reality of you. I just know that I have liked and loved you the first instance we met and for me to wait for time, pretending nothing has happened would simply be foolish; love doesn’t need a day or a week; for even a minute or a fraction of a second in the hands of time in love would spell eternity.

This may all seem to be overwhelming for you for I know you are new at this thing. This has been an overwhelming moment for me too and I have been very bold and straightforward in telling you this; I’m just being true to you. I really thank you for being so patient with me on this and I hold you dearly for trusting me with your love as well.

I still don’t have any answer to all of the questions, but one thing is certain I found love in you and that is all that matter.

PJ

In the Beginning...

In the beginning there was word and the word became flesh....
As the story goes, so does this random abstraction and musing of contemplative fool is born or rather reborn... inspired largely by someone "waitlisted"

The past belongs to the past... so on with the journey...

pj