Crossing the seas

In a few days, it will be my fourth month here in the US. I left Manila in November without knowing what will happen, which way to traverse, where to proceed. It was all so surreal to me that time.

It wasn't easy. You were born in one place and lived there all your life and, suddenly, one day you get this notice that will change the course of things for you. In just three months, you wind down your affairs and start to go through all your things. And when finally you thought you had everything in place, the next biggest problem was stuffing a lifetime's worth of things in just two boxes.

Most of what you worked for had to be left behind. As in everything. From books to appliances to hundreds of CD's and DVD's to a condo. Including a relationship.

Who says moving to the US was that easy?

And so it's back

I stopped writing more than five years ago. I never knew why. It's not that I ran out of things to write. With thoughts endlessly swirling in my head, I'm sure I can find something to talk about. It was mostly fear. The topics I choose to talk about here are all genuinely personal. I thought continuing to write meant unnecessarily baring my stories to the world when they were really better off shared only to people who matter. I guess I would have to draw a line somewhere.

Many things have happened since. I left practically everything in Manila four months ago. I now live in a different country, permanently. What happened in between should be captured somehow. This is my attempt to chronicle the story and, along the way, pay tribute to life, love, and, well, lust.

Hayyy Pasko!!

Except for the struggle I have getting up each morning because of the onset of chilly December breeze, there’s practically no other hint of Christmas air in my place now. The wreath that has graced the front door for several years now has finally gave way. Or it has secretly buried itself long ago. I can’t even find it.

But the other day, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to usher in the christmas spirit no matter how faint and ordinary it may be. I went through my CD stacks and looked for an old UST Singers CD which has, as one of the cuts, the first Pinoy christmas carol ever written after World War II. The great Philippine National Artist Felipe De Leon wrote Payapang Daigdig “the morning after he saw that bombs during the Second World War had leveled the entire city of Manila.”

The rendition of UST Singers makes the song more haunting and touching as its history. Thanks to CD samplers, I found a way for you to listen to excerpts of the song (by Filipino flutist Ray Sison and guitarist Lionel Valdellon).


http://cdbaby.com/mp3lofi/raysison-06.m3u


Payapang Daigdig

Ang gabi’y payapa
Lahat ay tahimik
Pati mga tala sa bughaw na langit
Kay hinhin ng hangin, wari’y umiibig
Sa kapayapaan ng buong daigdig.

Payapang panahon
Ay diwa ng buhay
Biyaya ng Diyos
Sa sangkatauhan
Ang gabi’y payapa, lahat ay tahimik
Pati mga tala
Sa bughaw ng langit.

Scarred but beautiful

Our emotions consume us most of the time when we're feeling the pits. We fret, we retreat, we lose grip on things, we break down. What makes it worse is a frequent attempt to romanticize the feeling of hurt and melancholy. It leads us deeper and deeper into despair and misery.

I've been through a lot. In life and in love. I have lost count on the number of times I have run into despair and gloom. It must have been the same as most people. The difference, however, is I don't nurse them. The moment I notice they're at the door, I acknowledge their presence and decide to move on and go beyond them. Sometimes, I recite this poem and give myself a light pat on the back.

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Scarred People Are Beautiful
Rev. Charles Cooke

Man speaks:
I've been hurt, Lord.
I have trusted and been betrayed at times.
I have loved and received nothing in return.
I have tried hard to care and failed often.
I have shared my secrets and, heard them whispered to others.
I have been warm and received a cold shoulder.
I have been through it, Lord.
I've fallen on my face.
I've banged my shins.
I've been bruised.
Look, Lord, I'm all covered with scars!

The Lord Speaks:
Maybe you haven't understood enough.
Maybe you haven't learned that human life is like that.
All saints are scarred.
Young love isn't the highest form of human love.
The greatest love comes from scarred people.
I know that many people stop loving so they won't be hurt again.
But those people who do start over again, who continue in spite of all, who leave themselves open to the possibility of being hurt again --These people are able to love again in a deeper way, a more understanding way, a richer way.

Man's response:
I think I know what you mean, Lord.
I've met people like that and knowing them gives me courage.
The great people are those who continue to love with their scars.
I like scarred people, Lord.
They are beautiful.

Pulsating 80's

My modest tribute to the spirited life of the 80's where everyone was as vibrant and full of character as the dance steps, variety shows, movie themes and characters, and hairstyles in that era.

And to one particular production number of one particular celebrity donning a particular costume and spraynet-loaded hairdo doing a particular glide onstage. Memories, memories.


I am what I am
I am my own special creation.
So come take a look,
Give me the hook or the ovation.
It's my world that I want to take a little pride in,
My world, and it's not a place I have to hide in.
Life's not worth a damn,
'Til you can say, "Hey world, I am what I am."
I am what I am,
I don't want praise, I don't want pity.
I bang my own drum,
Some think it's noise, I think it's pretty.
And so what, if I love each feather and each spangle,
Why not try to see things from a diff'rent angle?
Your life is a sham 'til you can shout out loud
I am what I am!
I am what I am
And what I am needs no excuses.
I deal my own deck
Sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces.
There's one life, and there's no return and no deposit;
One life, so it's time to open up your closet.
Life's not worth a damn 'til you can say,
"Hey world, I am what I am!"

That long vacation

My nine-day vacation which started last October 29 gave me three things I have been wishing for the longest time: An even tan, eight-hour sleep, and my first viewing episode of the celebrated US-version of the Queer As Folk.



I am tanned already courtesy of a punishing regimen of rowing four times weekly on Manila Bay. You add this to my growing years spent mostly under the sun in a far-flung town and what you get is a bronzy complexion --- only, it’s confined by and large to my face, arms, and legs. Taking my shirt off would parade an obviously imbalanced skin tone where some areas are noticeably lighter than the rest especially in the neck-to-groin region. It’s as if an entire sheath of shirt-shaped clothing is perpetually draped over me.

Thanks to Hawaiian Tropic’s tanning oil and a host of few other lotions and tan amplifiers, I can now take out my shirt and stare at my color to relish it. People in my rowing team as well as in the gym have noticed it. I love the tan. It makes outdoors seem so close all the time. It tells me to look forward for bright sunny days. It causes me to be melancholic and be reminded of my humble beginnings in the small town where I grew up. It proclaims I enjoy immensely a way of life involving outdoor sports and hobbies. And thanks too for the unspoiled beaches of Calatagan in Batangas for being a perfect setting to acquire perfect tan.

Not just for getting tan, but Calatagan is also an ideal place to enjoy uniterrupted sleep lasting eight hours at least.



The entire time I was there has been a gratifying experience of tranquil and restful sleep. The bedroom was less than 50 meters from the beach and all that lulls you to sleep at night are the sounds of tireless waves heading home to the shoreline.

I’m happy to declare I’ll no longer be clueless as far as Queer As Folk is concerned. I will never appear bewildered again when friends would have discussions on the latest hot guy whisked by the Brian to the backroom or about Justin’s amusing prom scene where everyone was left stunned seeing two guys kissing in the middle of the dancefloor. I’m happy I have finally watched the entire 21 episodes comprising QAF’s First Season. All in two days. After a few episodes, I realized the best way to enjoy QAF was to prop yourself alongside big fluffy pillows with chips on the side and set the mobile phone to mute mode. I’m happy I have a 5.1 surround sound system installed on my DVD player making every viewing moment a delightful entertainment experience.

Tip: It’s best to watch QAF with a small notebook and pen conveniently stowed nearby and within easy reach. There are many one-liners in the dialogue meant to be remembered and learned by heart. Their soul remains long after the lines have been delivered and scenes are cut.

Mindfuck

I got my cousin J. to visit the house last week and stay for a few days. I kept myself so hard from trying not to probe too deeply. I didn’t want him to suspect that I have known all along the real reason he’s in the city. Yeah, he’s on a well-deserved vacation and yes, he has a convention to attend somewhere, but he’s really here to get his mind off from a tragic break-up with his girlfriend of a few years.

For me, to refer to his breakup as a tragedy was actually understating the damage done. It wasn’t just painfully heartbreaking for my cousin; it was in fact dangerously life threatening in a different kind of way. That day he visited, it has only been a few weeks after he found out his girlfriend was seeing other women for reasons all but suspect. That’s not nailing it. The girlfriend was actually humping and pumping other women. As simple as that. The whole town knew about it except for my poor cousin.

I don’t have anything against the girlfriend. The fact that she enjoys plowing slits much like her own doesn’t even bother me. It doesn’t even deprive me of a good night’s sleep. My heart pours out certainly for my cousin who’s left incredibly disillusioned and scarred for life. But the grief I feel ends the moment I think about willful and heartless deceit on the girl’s part which may have prevailed from the start. I then turn so furious I can chew her alive.

The mindfuck is what kills me. That somebody gay intentionally jumps in a heterosexual relationship to conceal nature and truth, and conform to standards to make things easier. This act of deception gives the whole gay community a bad name. That’s depressing in itself, but it’s nothing compared to the anguish of people caught in the middle of things as well as amplified homophobia from the rest of community who will start to equate gays always with cheating, always with dishonesty, always with treachery.

If we long to be accepted for who we genuinely are, we have to start from within. Acknowledge your truth and only then you can, with confidence, live. Please spare other people from the injustice of using them as unsuspecting victims in your quest of finding acceptance from people.