Life begins at 40...???

Age is but a number in the hands of time.
Just the same, I still got the jolt when I received a text message invitation to celebrate the 40th birthday of a childhood friend. The number 40 suddenly brought flashback of memories and what have been where at now and the foreboding realization of what could be from hereon...

Where I'm at now is something I'm proud about; knowing that where I'm at now has been shaped by what have been, whether it was pain or joy; they are all now sweet memories to be reminisced.

What could be from hereon is the story yet to be told.
Life they say begins at 40, I'm about to live it and hopefully the stories would be as sweet as what have been.

PinoyGay Blog Roll

Someone has inspired me to create this blog ;
that someone has long been gone and here I am still struggling to blog...

I've been following this blog - manilagayguy for quite sometime now and here I am now trying to link up with pinoygayblog hoping somehow to also inspire or even just make one think of this life.

Walking down the "Avenue Q"

Disappointment was all over me when someone I've been asking out for a date, cancelled out, again, at the last minute. We were supposed to see Avenue Q on that date and serendipitously just as he called to cancel I was listening to this piece of song...

How poignant quirks can be...???

There’s A Fine, Fine Line
(by Katie Monster, Avenue Q)

There’s a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend;
There’s a fine, fine line between reality and pretend;
And you never know ’til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb.
There’s a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of time.
There’s a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie;
And there’s a fine, fine line between “You’re wonderful” and “Goodbye.”
I guess if someone doesn’t love you back it isn’t such a crime,
But there’s a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of your time.
And I don’t have the time to waste on you anymore.
I don’t think that you even know what you’re looking for.
For my own sanity, I’ve got to close the door
And walk away…
Oh…
There’s a fine, fine line between together and not
And there’s a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you got.
You gotta go after the things you want while you’re still in your prime…
There’s a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of time.

:)

Dilemma

I am gay; whatever kind of label one puts at it, I would always be defined as someone, a man who likes/loves another man. I have already come to accept that part of me and I don't think of any other thing happening could ever change that. This fact, I have intimidated to someone who apparently got so infatuated with me. But despite this pronouncement, she persists; it's almost nine months now.

What did she see/find in me? I really do not know: I'm no swashbuckling, macho type of guy; I'm no flamboyantly debonair type of guy either. I don't have millions as she has. I don't have fame as she has. I'm no sugary sweet for I have actually been so abrasive to the point of being too snob and a slob type of guy yet, she still sees me differently as saccharine? I have done most of the imaginable things that could turn off anyone and yet...

It's flattering to be pursued; even more flattering that the pursuer is someone of name; but I don't know what to take of all this anymore; perhaps it's all about the thrill of pursuit. A friend suggested for me to take the bait, let her have me for a while, and perhaps this way the thrill would be gone; and that by then she could also be gone in a jiffy. Perhaps I would, I could, if I am a straight guy; but the problem is I'm too straight of a gay guy to get my self romantically involve with a woman. It really takes substantive amount of attraction for me to really get romantically involve with anyone, much more to a woman, an older woman at that. How appropriate her signature song could be "sayang...."

Dilemma: The whole workplace is getting buzzed on the supposed romance between us; I'm getting too uncomfortable. I can allow my self to be swallowed in the lie or I could get my self out. Hopefully, things would quietly die down. I don't need to explain my self anyway.

:)

Night and Day...

I let him be...
the light that shone on yonder night....
As I move on...
I live life both of love and pain...
hopefully to be embraced in the warmth of new day as the sun shines...

Moving in

Life's been good to me...

A new home to call my own....

May, 2, 2007

Another Postscript to my Coming Out...

A trip that provided me with a glimpse of life as he lives his own;

and a realization that I too, am already living a life of my own...

Excitement would be an understatement as I prepared and anticipate my trip to the US; excitement for it would be my first time to travel abroad alone, my first time to the US; my first time to really have a vacation in so many years; and beneath my broadcasted reason for the month-long vacation is the anticipated reunion with my best friend, 2 years after that Epilogue.

My trip alone is a story in itself. I spent my first week alone in San Diego to attend a medical convention. I spent my free time walking alone, wandering aimlessly, exploring and simply be an innocent bystander, observing another culture and way of life; it was an experience that I would remember and appreciate more than anything else. On my first night, I found this beautiful spot, a quaint park at the far end of Orange Road in the city of Coronado, overlooking San Diego Bay; and every night for the week that I stayed there, I would quietly spend an hour or two sitting in the wooden bench looking at Downtown San Diego reminiscing on my life and times passed or simply sitting there, contemplating on nothingness as the cool breeze of wind endlessly kissed my cheeks.

view from where I sit

He called the minute he knew I have set foot in the US, checking on me, where I'm at and how I've been doing. He seemed to be incredulous that I was travelling alone, worried on what might be as I wandered on my own in a totally unfamiliar territory; I was just as surprised with how simple and enjoyable my trip has gone so far.

At the end of the week, I flew to San Francisco to have the rest of my three weeks with him as planned, much to the chagrin of several friends who came to know of my (to them) a very much welcome but unexpected arrival. I was expecting him to meet me at the airport but, much to my disappointment, it was his live-in partner who met me, for he's still at work where we briefly met on our way to his home. A room was already reserved for me in his home, his pride, a nice quiet place in the foggy side of Pacifica a short drive from Daly City where he works. I was settling down when lady, one of his friends staying with them, arrived home and as if it was already a laid-out plan, she took me for a ride, giving me my glimpse of San Francisco. Somehow, I have sensed, this would be the tone of my stay as well; his friends, alternating to bring me places; this is typical of him, not really surprising for he always rely on friends to do his bidding for him. Who am I to complain, I have completely left up to him the rest of my itinerary as I had hope he would make one, with him significantly part of it. I was wrong, that was not to be; he's working on a possible promotion and cannot possibly afford to be off work at that point. I was uncomfortable with the set up; I'm not comfortable imposing myself on anyone more so to people I do not personally know.

Nevertheless, I did enjoy myself doing nothing; it was certainly a very much welcome change doing mostly household chores: cooking, cleaning, letting out his dogs, and whatever other chores he asked me to do. I did get to see San Francisco as far as Sta. Cruz and Monterey on one end and Vacaville and Napa Valley on the other end. But I did enjoy more the times I went to downtown San Francisco on my own, commuting by train and bus; wandering on foot in the city, I even got to see Jersey Boys playing in Currant Theater. Again, he was incredulous that I insisted on exploring the city alone.

Living with him for three weeks afforded me time to know him again; which include getting to know his live-in partner and friends; his work and his boss; and his life as he lives it. We never really got the time to be alone together, except at night when we were left alone in the living room drinking as we watched pinoy series on cable; imagine me glued to pinoy telenovelas just so I can spend times with him alone; those were the only times that we were able to catch up on each other's lives. I have observed how untenable his relationship with his live-in partner is and I told him so; he confirmed that indeed theirs is on the verge of breaking up; that his partner already wanted out and that the only thing holding them together is his promise to him to support his schooling until he can make it on his own. Although it's presumptuous of me to make any opinion, I just told him that it does not look healthy for both of them. On the surface it seemed so noble, but the deeper truth is, they're both hurting in the process; for he's already loosing himself as a person; and that I cannot seem to understand on why he seemed to be holding on to a relationship that seemed to be getting nowhere. At the back of my mind, I know the answer, as I know him; he does not want to let go because he's afraid to be alone and for that, I know, he will hold on foolishly. It would be unfair of me to ask him to give up on something that to him is an anchor. It's just so unfortunate that this anchor seemed to be pulling him down to drown.

My three weeks stay with him confirmed my love for him; but I have also come to realization that he is already living a life of his own, just as I am already living a life of my own. And to say again, my love for him is now just a wish for him to find all the happiness in whatever form and whomever he will find it.

"Closing Cycle" Borrowing lines of Paulo Coelho...

I got this from a thread in one of my yahoogroups, a very appropriate article on my current state; and coming from one of my favorite authors at that....

Closing Cycles

By Paulo Coelho

One always has to know when a stage comes to an end. If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through.

Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished. Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents' house? Gone to live abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of sudden?

You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won't take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that. But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister, everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a standstill.

None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us. What has passed will not return: we cannot for ever be children, late adolescents, sons that feel guilt or rancor towards our parents, lovers who day and night relive an affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back.

Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away. That is why it is so important (however painful it maybe!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home.

Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts and getting rid of certain memories also means taking some room for other memories to take their place.

Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else. Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the ideal moment. Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person. Nothing is irreplaceable. A habit is not a need. This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.

Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits your life. Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust. Stop being who you were, and change into who you are.

A new leaf...

A new leaf just turned...

T'was a good year; thank God!

I pray, let this be as good as if not better as last...

:)

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?!
:)