Sometime, Somewhere.

A Wedding and My First Step on Leyte

2011-11-20T02:53:00.004+08:00

If Kuya Rauy were there, it would have been perfect.

Last November 5, I together with four of my friends (we were officemates in a small audit firm we call BCH) have again squeezed our tight schedules to attend another friend’s (also from the same audit firm) wedding in her hometown Isabel, Leyte. Ef, short for Efemar Kristine is finally getting married after feeling desperate of finding her one true love. And before this desperation shatters her sanity, she found the man in the name of Rex, a classmate in gradeschool, who I believe is the perfect man for Ef’s rocker personality. I may not have known this guy personally but I think he has a good heart.

The wedding rites went on as usual except that I did not hear any Regine Velasquez songs played in the church which I think is one of the nicest I have ever been to. Well of course, it was Ef’s wedding not mine. The reception followed immediately after the ceremony. The food was great and the short program was fun. What was even funnier was when Cass and Dailou joined the rest of single ladies in the hall in a game where the winner will be partnered with the single guy who happened to be the winner as well of a previous game. (we all know how that goes in the wedding, right?) We wanted badly Cass to win so she can have this chance of meeting this guy. We almost rigged it so she can have him but unfortunately, she lost willingly to this sexy girl in a nice white dress.

Overall, I am very happy to see Ef and Rex, now husband and wife, and I wish them nothing but the best in life. And that God will continue to bless them with years of love, joy and togetherness and of course beautiful, intelligent and healthy children.

And since it was also my first time to step on Leyte, we did not waste time in visiting the must-sees of the province. We spent the first night strolling the streets of Ormoc City in the hope of finding a victim. The city is peaceful and very clean. Since I have been wanting to sing this Whitney Houston song All The Man That I Need wholeheartedly to Kuya Rauy, we ended up in a videoke bar called Vivo. And yes, I did sing the song but without the man that I need. (Lou, spare me some consolation, okay!) After some cup of melted sugar, I mean coffee mixed with a can of condensed milk, we walked towards their baywalk for some camwhoring and finally went back to hotel for the night’s rest.

The following day, a Sunday, we headed towards Tacloban City to see the Leyte Landing Monument, the exquisite Sto. Nino Shrine which was Imelda Marcos’ ancestral home and of course the infamous San Juanico Bridge. I was not really impressed on the Leyte Landing Monument primarily because it was noontime when we were there and it was scorching hot. What really amazed me was the Sto. Nino Shrine. For me it was a place of luxury and extravagance. The interiors of the house was simply stunning, not to mention very expensive. San Juanico Bridge on the hand may just be a normal bridge connecting Leyte and Samar for Maricel who happened to pass by it everyday during her college days, but for me it was historical. It was something some people only see in books and television. I also had my first step on Samar courtesy of that bridge. Time has flown so quickly that we need to get back to Ormoc to catch the ferry back to Cebu.

It was indeed fun. But like I said, it would have been more meaningful if Kuya were there. But there will always be next time. And next time, I will be singing You're Still My Man.

The adventure that was Camiguin...

2011-05-02T14:43:00.004+08:00

While most people commemorate the sufferings Jesus went through to redeem us from our sins, I, together with my closest friends from high school, celebrate life and that little freedom from our busy careers as we invade the astonishing Camiguin on Black Saturday until Easter Sunday.

For me, this trip has been the most unplanned I ever had. Simply because with the tons of work to be done in the office, I do not actually have the luxury of time and resources to have a vacation. I planned to initially work during the holidays but my friends insisted that my absence from the trip would be unfavorable for them because as usual, I bring out most of the fun side.

Camiguin is a paradise. With seven active volcanoes, this tiny island province just few miles north of Cagayan de Oro City, boasts of its hot and cold springs, old churches, the infamous White Beach and many more. Two days is clearly not enough to see everything the island has to offer.

Here are the captured moments. I hope we did not annoy God in such holy time in any way.

But I have to thank Ricky, George, Noel, Cristy and Jornel for allowing me to join and for taking part on the expenses.

Next stop is Boracay!

God loves all...

2011-04-06T09:59:00.003+08:00

The Catholic Church in the Philippines has finally opened its doors to people who are either blessed or cursed with this thing called homosexuality when Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines launched a book called Homosexuality and the Catholic Church by Fr. John Harvey, OSFS.

There were varied reactions from the public. And even the subject of the book itself, the homosexuals, have different views on the launch. Some saw it as a relief because for them it was recognition but not necessarily acceptance. Some view it contradictory because the book suggests that there is nothing wrong with being gay as long as no homosexual activities are involved. But how can you exactly separate sex from being homosexual?

I come from a very strict Catholic high school for boys and any light sign of homosexuality is practically conspicuous for a very large all-male group. Most of these homosexuals including myself tried very hard to hide the signs and control every move we make so as not be sanctioned with termination. As for me, in order to gain respect and acceptance from others, I focused on my academics and I prayed a lot. But the sidekicks of Satan have always been in the works for people like me especially when I started feeling attractive to a very few of my mates. Extreme control of this feeling has to be in place but unfortunately for some of my friends, this sort of ordeal was too much. Looking at it now as somebody who has survived, I realized life is really unfair. And even at times, I think God is unfair.

The nuns who run our school share the same principle as Fr. John Harvey, OSFS. Homosexuality without sex is okay. But is there really such a thing? Yes, there are priests who are gay but are we sure they are happy about that? Are they really living life to the fullest by being that? The other question now is why do we have to suffer like this in the first place?

As for me, there is nothing wrong in loving someone. I think I have the fundamental right to love anybody I want. And if sucking and fucking could make the person I love, love me better, nobody can hold it against me.

Janver and Michael Wedding: A Reunion

2011-03-26T20:22:00.005+08:00

“What God has joined, let no one separate it.”

I, together with some of my closest friends, have become living witnesses to that testament. Last March 19^th, Janver, portmanteau of her real name Janice Veriña finally tied the knot with her long-time boyfriend Michael in Dumaguete City Cathedral. It was a simple yet very heartwarming ceremony not just for couple’s family but also for us, her friends who took a break from work and came all the way from Cebu and Iligan. It sort of became a little reunion for all of us.

I first came to know Janver when we were assigned by the auditing firm we used to work for, in Victorias City, Negros Occidental. We did not initially click because she was very silent. But when I discovered that she was from St. Paul University Dumaguete (I was from St. Paul University Surigao), the closeness became imminent. Even if our assignment was short-lived, the friendship that was created has obviously lived on.

Here are proofs of that friendship that I think will last forever.

Clearly, the time and distance did not hinder us to catch up with each other. The wedding became an avenue to reminisce the past and laugh at moments of sheer stupidity and plan and dream for the future. I am happy that I found such company with these kind people because I know that no matter what happens, we would always be there for each other.

I would have wished Ef , Janice Banal and Aimee were there. It would have been more fun and exciting if the entire gang was complete. But there will always be another wedding to attend to. The question now is whose?

As for the new couple, I just wish them lifetime of joy and togetherness and of course healthy and beautiful kids. Congratulations Janice and Michael!!!

Living alone...

2011-03-15T13:39:00.002+08:00

Almost a year ago, I had the opportunity of living alone when my officemates left permanently our Cebu staffhouse for an Agusan work assignment. Finally, I had all the freedom I so long desired because for most of my life, I have always been living with my family. Living arrangement like this would not surely make my adult life prosper. (You know exactly what I mean about that.) But that is not the only thing I was ecstatic about initially.

Living alone gives me all the time to watch my favorite cable channel because there is no one else trying to switch it. I don’t have to rush doing my thing in the bathroom because I know there is no one knocking on the door. When coming home late from gimmicks, I don’t have to worry anymore whether the main door is double-locked or not. Simply, I was very happy having all the freedom to do everything I want just because I am all alone.

But this happiness that freedom brought seemed to be so fleeting. Two months or so have passed, I started to feel empty. I missed the food that Yanyan and Mark prepared for every dinner and the funny conversations that ensued. I missed those times when we had to sleep all together in one room basically because it’s air-conditioned. I felt that the two-bedroom apartment became a creepy mansion that sometimes in the midnight silence, I could hear whispers. In other words, I was alone and was starting to feel lonely.

I am a naturally loquacious person that coming home from a day’s work without anyone to talk to drives me crazy. This leads me to a deep thinking about the lives of some people who remain single, either out of destiny or rather out of choice, as a consequence of a painful break-up, on how they seize their every day. Would it really matter if we have someone we can sleep with at night? Does it make any difference if we have someone to eat breakfast with the following morning?

Of course, for me, it does.

There is not a single day when I had not wished that maybe I would find that someone. Someone to hold, someone to lean on, someone to laugh with and someone who makes me feel alive. That I can just shrug off the depressing idea of growing old alone because I know someone’s gonna be here to stay by me. And that someone could just be anybody because after all, love is not about genders.

I am feeling it again!!

2011-02-28T13:14:00.002+08:00

It's been long overdue. I think this is the right time, I mean the right year for me to revive and relive my blog-life.

I am still busy as usual but I will try to at least write once a week.

I hope my readers, if there are, are still there waiting for my posts.

Good luck to me! :)

Some idle moments...

2009-08-13T20:53:00.000+08:00

Since last night, I have been wanting to write something, anything, just for the sake of having something to post in this blog. I grabbed my laptop at around 11:00 in the evening and thought of something to write. So many things crossed my mind like my shaking faith, a movie review on Ma Vie En Rose, my latest hoop-up, my crush who is just a neighbor whose name I still have to know, and even the death of Cory. But nothing came into writing. I gave it a rest that night hoping that some ideas would pop out the following day.

Disappointed about last night’s mental block, today at exactly 3:00 in the afternoon, I stopped working for a moment. I sat comfortably and stared out at the window looking far ahead waiting that some magical creature would display “Write something about sex!” in the sky like fireworks. Although it could be a great idea to write about but it just didn’t work out. I am still clueless. I still don’t have that urge, that burning desire, that inspiration.

I continued staring out at the window but not looking far ahead. I looked down this time at people passing by the street which is just five meters away from the building I was in. People-watching has always been my favorite way of wasting time. It is best when you have a friend who can laugh with you every time you make crazy and hilarious descriptions of the people passing by. Sometimes, it makes me sad when I see a child crying helplessly, with one hand gripping firmly on his mother’s skirt and the other with a piece of bread. I turn dark green in envy whenever I see lovers, ‘gay lovers’ that is, holding hands openly without having to worry about what people might say. I open my eyes wide and cleanse my glasses striving to have a clearer view whenever I see some cute guys approaching. You see, people-watching is not really a waste of time at all. It is fun!

My music has stopped. All the songs in my playlist have been played already. Josh Groban, Mariah Carey, Martina MacBride and Nickelback might have sore throats by now but still nothing came up. Now the rain has made it worse. Its sounds are so like a mother’s lullaby that you can’t help but to feel sleepy making you write off the idea of trying to have something to write about. It’s 4:45. It’s time to go home already but still my brain isn’t working. It’s blank. It’s void. I will wait again for tomorrow and tomorrows after that until I have that itch again.

It’s funny though that I just made a post with this. 

My place...

2009-08-11T11:06:00.004+08:00

I found this in a forum when I was searching for nice Youngblood articles in the web. This great piece of literature is about innocent love that metamorphosed into something deep. It's about friendship, hate, sorrow, and later on acceptance. As I was reading, I actually somehow felt the pains and frustrations that the author went through. And the way this was written was just perfect.

Please read on....

MY PLACE
By SC
September 13, 2001

TODAY, I will attend an execution: my own. I will watch it with both eyes open and I will not cry. I will not break down just because the man I have loved since forever will marry someone else. I will watch him promise himself to a woman who will never love him like I have. I will watch them bind themselves to a vow I should have taken.
I have loved Oliver almost all my life. I have known him since I saved his six-year-old hide from a bully named Ricardo who wanted to rid him of his two yellowed front teeth. I was five at the time, but having grown with five older brothers and a hellion of a sister, "Totoy Cardo" was a piece of cake. Oliver was so overcome with embarrassment at having a girl to protect his scrawny neck that from that time on he made it a point to be the rescuer, not the rescued. As time passed, muscles filled out this lanky frame and those two front teeth began to sparkle. He combs his hair, and he takes a bath daily now. In short, he has become a fine specimen of manhood.

The best part is, he lived up to his promise: he became my self-appointed guardian (well, I don't know if that's the best or the worst part). He was just always there, sticking to me like glue. It used to drive me nuts that he never let me out of his sight.

When I was 12, I ran from the infirmary on my way home. I had found out in the most humiliating way that I had become a woman: there was a big red stain on the back portion of my skirt. The jeers and the taunts followed me through the school corridors. Oliver dashed after me and offered to accompany me home. I declined, of course. He seemed to understand my discomfiture and promised to drop later with the things left in school. When I reached home I was told that I needed to jump three times on the stairs (which I did) and to wash my face with my blood (which I didn't do). Oliver dropped by in the afternoon, sporting a black eye and a bruise on his arm. When I asked him what happened, he said he had walked into a closed door. I believed him. But a few days later, minus the dysmennorhea, I found out that Oliver got into fisticuffs because some guy made a disgusting remark about me. Nobody had ever fought for me before that. And when you're 12 and discussing in class how King Arthur and fairest of them all, Lancelot, fought for Guinevere's love, you tend to get ideas. I loved Oliver then.

When we were in high school and I found out that the school's heartthrob and one of my most ardent suitors, Richard, was involved with a bustier girl, it was to Oliver that I ran. When I didn't graduate as valedictorian and I got so drunk, it was Oliver who took me home. He didn't even mind that I barfed all over his dad's car (which he borrowed without permission). When I decided to go to UP and he went to Ateneo, we celebrated by partying. When I lost my mom in a car accident, he took care of everything. When my dad followed my mom less than a year later after a heart attack, he was there again.

By this time he was an appendage of my life. He used to check out the guys I came to know. Nobody dared to get serious with me-not when Oliver had a black belt. I didn't know how to define our relationship. I didn't know what we were. We definitely were more than friends, better even than best friends. It was like we were a couple, but formally not one. We did all the things that couples did like hang out and neck but always stopped when things got too hot. Since we never defined what we meant to each other, we never said "I love you" or whatever serious couple told each other. As a result, I remained a chaste princess while my prince caroused and sowed wild oats, but still had the energy to monitor my movements.

I didn't mind. After all, I was so sure we'd end up together. I always thought that in the end, it would be us. I loved him. I managed to convince myself that he loved me (what else could it be?). Little did I know that love doesn't conquer all, it only conquers the weak. I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to get a girl pregnant on the same night they met at a party. I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to forget to use some form of contraception. After all, he had given me a lecture on safe sex. And I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to marry the girl.

But maybe I forgot that after all he was a man, and men have been known to be stupid about these things. Their brain is located in a region other than between the ears.
What could I do? Kicking him in the groin and punching him in the eye seemed like a good idea then. Don't blame me; he was the one who enrolled me in a self-defense course. But I did not feel better. Seeing him bent over in pain only made me angrier. I wasted my life for this lousy excuse of a man? I could not believe it!
I wanted nothing more than to run to him and beg him to wake me up from the stupid dream. I wanted him to take me some place where we didn't know anybody. No pain, no memory, no humiliation. I wanted to just forget it ever happened but since I flunked in the School for Martyrs, I couldn't, for the life of me pretend, it didn't happen. I couldn't pretend he didn't hurt me. I couldn't pretend everything was fine and dandy and exactly the way it was before.

We didn't talk for a month. For both of us who were practically inseparable, that was like an eternity. I ducked into corners whenever I would see him. I wouldn't take his calls. I wouldn't see him. And for some time hate was my reason for getting up in the morning, for breathing, for living. Hate and I became good friends. "God brings men into deep waters, not to drown them but to cleanse them," somebody once wrote. I didn't want to be cleansed. I just wanted to drown in pain and misery and utter desolation. I wanted to wallow in the dark and deep pit of despair. I know a thousand and one cliches that say this can be a blessing and that I should be thankful. But thankful is the last thing I'm feeling right now. I've always thought that there are three kinds of women: those who break, those who mend and those who are broken themselves. Before this hit me, I assumed that I belonged to the first or second category. Now I know I'm in the third-so hurt and broken up inside.

My grandmother used to say that there is nothing you can do about pain when it give you a silly grin except grin right back. All I could manage was a wry smile, a killer headache and the worst hangover the day before his wedding. Evidence of that is the disgusting sight of mashed potatoes and barbecue, thrown up not three meters away from where I was lying prostrate on the floor and the awful stench of cigarette on my hair.

Frankly I don't want to go. I want to wallow in misery in my messy room, crying, retching and stinking, surrounded with Michael Learns to Rock (whose songs are dedicated to the broken-hearted) CDs. But I have to go and attend the wedding. I have to bathe and prepare and put on that atrocious peach (it's not even my color!) gown. I'm not doing it for the groom, my one true friend and love, Oliver. Neither am I doing it for the bride, my younger sister, Sandra, who needs me. I'm doing it for my unborn niece who has the great fortune of having me as her aunt. Call me stupid, but I've always known my place. If it isn't beside the man I was destined to marry, if it isn't behind my sister, who will take his name, wear his ring and bear him a child, then it must be with my niece, cradled close to my heart so that she will know both of our love.
---------
SC, 22, teaches at a private school in Cagayan de Oro City while taking up postgraduate studies.

Did I spell it right?

2009-07-18T11:01:00.004+08:00

A couple of months ago, I happened to see the 2008 SCRIPPS National Spelling Bee on TV at a hotel where my friend was staying. This was when Sameer Mishra was hailed the national champion with the word “guerdon”.

As we were watching, Noel and I, spelling contestants in our high school (although I was just an alternative), could not contain how possibly these kids learn to spell, know the definition, the alternative pronunciations and even the languages of origin at such a young age? I was totally amazed at how they were able to spell out words I did not even know existed. The SCRIPPS format was different from ours. There, each word is intended for each contestant. And in our case, each word is intended for all the participants. Theirs is a bit tougher because once you cannot spell the word right, you will automatically be eliminated. (That’s what I know so far) Unlike ours, the scores are summed up at the end of each round, and that’s when the judges determine who will proceed to the next round. Unfortunately, we did not win in the contest.

Let’s play some games here. Test ten people you know, maybe in school or at the office to spell out the following words and see if they can pull off.

…demitasse, quadrat, diener, hyssop, macedoine, basenji, numnah, chorion, nacarat, sinicize, hyphaeresis, taleggio and esclandre. (For the correct pronunciations though, please refer to www.dictionary.com)

I’d be hoity-toity if I say I spelled at least one word from that list because I really did not. They were way too out-of-this-world for me. Maybe Noel did one or two.

Now, I am becoming crazy over the winning words for the past years of SCRIPPS and I am forcing my friend Johanna to spell them out. I tried to be the best pronouncer and like me, she also failed.

Here is a peek of the 2009 SCRIPPS National Spelling which I missed. This girl is amazing!

Not an apology

2009-07-06T22:12:00.000+08:00

I was on self-exile from the blogworld for more than half a year now. I think I lost my interest in inscribing the remarkable circumstances that happened in my life in all those times. I think I was so preoccupied by the pressures and problems brought about by the nature of my work. I think I wasn’t wise enough to take advantage of my time in reading and writing but rather wasting it through streaming videos of insignificant people and events, and porn.

This is not actually the first entry after that long hiatus. I did make some post a week ago where I talked about my resignation from the company I used to work for and my sentiments from the not-so-good experiences and finally my decision to just move on. I must have been at the zenith of my emotion that time that I chose words, due to my imprudence, which have allured varied reactions from the readers and creating quite a trouble in the office of the man I talked about in that article.

I am not really sorry for what I have said in that article but I decided to take it out from here to protect some innocent people who, in a way, have been affected by my comments and more importantly to protect myself from further harm as I am not anymore sure if some people I know would still take the same path as I do. I think I have had my fill of resentments and disappointments already and to get involved in any way with them again is like sitting on air for twelve hours. Now, how excruciating can that be?

I’d rather look forward and focus on improving myself to be the best in manning the task at hand. I’d rather read a book on geology and learn some Czech words and expressions. I’d rather unclutter our house and look after dogs, Shane and Matt. I would rather make, as many as I can, articles that I can post in here.

And if there’s still time, I might even revert back to watching porn again.

Hehehe….

Unsent letter...

2008-11-26T11:03:00.000+08:00

I woke up this morning with a great feeling. I dreamed of my special friend who owns a very significant part of my heart. Why am I dreaming about him again? Could he be thinking about me too? I could only wish! To savor that magical moment, I went through my memory bag, this is where I stored all the, as the name suggests, memorabilia. Here, I keep old pictures, birthday cards, letters, tags of the gifts my friends gave me on my birthdays, and many other things which hold special meaning to me. And I found this unsent letter, supposedly for this special friend I just dreamed about. I can’t help but smile at how I was so into him before as I read the letter. I think I wrote this sometime in May of 2002. I am sharing this letter here not hoping that he would actually be able to read this sometime but because I just want to. It has been more than half a decade and absolutely, the intensity has gone a little dreary. I did not send this before for fear of being ridiculed or worse, rejected. Now, I don’t care if he knows about how I felt for him during those times. Here it goes.

Dear J,

When I left Cebu for Surigao, I promised I am not going to write letters to the people I loved there. Nor I would know any information regarding their lives. All I know is that I am going to meet all of you after five years. Wouldn’t that be very surprising? But I realized how painful would that be for me when one day, I only wake up losing all of you. That is why in a moment, I feel like breaking that promise.

My batchmates (5th batch in SOM) have already graduated in college. I am left behind because of the two years I spent with my interest in earning money. But never had it crossed my mind to regret those two years because that was the most beautiful time that ever happened to my life. I learned to value work, conquer fear, possess self-confidence and most especially, I have learned to love. Somehow, I also felt I was loved and this always makes me long for Cebu just to be with all of you. I really, really missed the days we had fun together. I missed my work though monotonous and the laughter I had with Ate Rowena, Ate Jean and of course with you and Efren. Those ecstatic memories have always been registered in my mind and in my heart. I do really hope I can come again to attend the alumni homecoming because I really yearn to see the school and the people there.

May the best of luck be with you always as you pursue your ambition in life. I firmly believe in your capacity that you can surpass all the trials and you can survive that pursuit of attaining success. In your school, make the best that you can. Show to your mates that you are excellent because I believe you are. And don’t ever forget that you have someone who is always praying for your success and happiness. As they say, life is never easy. You have to be wrong to learn what is right; struggle to persevere, hurt to be stronger, fall to rise again, lose to try harder and to love to conquer them all.

June 2, 2002 is a very special day for you. This is the time when you will bid goodbye to the teenage years and say welcome to adulthood. In your 20th birthday, all I wish is good health and a happier life or should I say happier love life. You only have one more year to go to be called a full-fledged man. The future may seem unclear and indeterminable but one thing is for sure, this time and forever, you are always loved.

Until then! Reply me asap.

Always,

Vinx

Of course, there was no reply as this is in the first place unsent. J is just his initial. I still want to keep him anonymous here because I don’t want to stir other people’s lives he may have connected with now. The letter is so corny and gay, I know, but I don’t actually give a damn. Now, he remains to be a good friend and I am so happy and contented about that. Some things are not meant to be, maybe in another lifetime.

Breathing death...

2008-11-24T16:23:00.004+08:00

The office has undergone some renovations to provide more space for keeping files which are now fast mounting like bubbles. The built-in desk at the back was removed and replaced by cabinets for more storage. I could have appreciated these improvements more than I could actually rant complaining about migraine-triggering odor brought about by the paint applied on the cabinets. But the office is a merely 20sqm, fully air-conditioned room and there is no other way the stinky odor could escape to but our noses, our lungs eventually. Right now, as I am writing this, I am actually having breathing difficulty and feeling a little sense of discomfort forming right in middle of my forehead and just between my eyes.

So what is the problem?

The problem is people, I mean the higher ones, don’t actually make a move on how we could get out of that place or at the least, think of something that would lessen the destructive aroma. I made suggestions that maybe we can transfer to the other room, the conference room just so we could focus on working. But it seems I was talking to old, deaf-since-birth people. I did not get any answers or reactions for that matter.

I may not be knowledgeable in the exact clinical or medical effects that chemicals of the paint bring about but I know, my common sense tells me, that if you breathe something in aside from oxygen is alarming enough not to mention the headaches and the difficulty in breathing that we have experienced.

The higher ones may have forgotten that they are not generous enough to provide us health benefits or insurances in case this might go to a higher level, which I hope, would not happen. In the exercise of prudence, I am just being health conscious because to get sick these times could surely make you fall even lower than the poverty threshold. And I don’t want that to happen to me. I think everybody doesn’t.

In another words, they should be sensitive enough. They have options. Like I said we have an extra room, or they could provide us with masks perhaps, or anything that can alleviate our suffering. Or to exaggerate, provide us with health benefits and insurances! The latter is absolutely remote in consideration.

For the time being, I am using the coat of Sherlie to cover my nose and inhale from time to time my favorite Betet. If Ef can read this, I hope she doesn’t slap me with that question again. "When are you all leaving?"

If only everything were alright, I would. I will.

Celcius, Kelvin, Fahrenheit, whatever!

2008-11-07T15:03:00.001+08:00

After almost four years, I was back in Manila for four short days during the Halloween vacation. Noel and I availed of the promo of Cebu Pacific where we only paid P120.00 for each of our plane ticket, back and forth. There are so many changes in the metro since my last visit. Buildings are sprouting everywhere. Even the airport where we landed was undeniably clean and the architecture was just amazing, not to mention controversial. The roads have become cleaner and wider, I guess. I think MMDA has to be credited for the positive changes the metro have undergone. (OA ra sa personal!) But the traffic condition is still the same. Or perhaps, that time was just the worst because it was a holiday and people were going in and out of Manila.

Anyway, although Noel and I have been talking about what we were going to do exactly in Manila so that we won’t be wasting time, the itinerary however depends upon our two friends, gay friends George and Jeafrey who were generous enough to sponsor for our accommodation. Since they are gay and so are we, I was expecting that we would be doing something of our interest. George, who knows the beautiful and the not so visit-worthy places in Manila more than anyone in the group led us to a place called Fahrenheit. Yes, you got it right. It is a unit of temperature and it depicts a lot of what the place is really about. Okay, the place is a bathhouse and the temperature was so much fine. It was the people inside who have made the entire place figuratively hot.

I am not a stranger to a bathhouse at all. I have seen the movie entitled the same and I already have an idea what is happening inside. But to experience it at hand is just breathtaking. It was about eight in the evening when we arrived after a difficult ordeal with the traffic. And as early as that, I can already see people lining up for the entrance like enthusiastic fans of Sam Milby, wrestling, and hurting themselves as to who gets first his autograph. But the novice Melvin was more nervous than excited. Primarily because I was aware that places like Fahrenheit are prone to police raids and I don’t want to see myself either on TV or in papers confidently defensive and who would just say “no comment” to the reporters or police when asked. That would be so embarrassing that the next day, you would already see me dead on my bed overdosed with sleeping pills.

But forward we went. As relentless as I am, I shook off my nervousness and proceeded to hell. Inside, I was like a college freshman enrolling for the BS Accountancy program because I have to present two valid IDs, sign up registration form and pay membership fee. George told me that it was a standard operating procedure. Once done and given the key to hell, we headed to a locker room where we had to leave all our valuables. You have to pass at least two frisking officers making sure you’re not going inside with money and pointed objects for security purposes. The frisking officer had to touch everything including that thing in the middle that keeps everything in place. In another words, even our birdies have to be touched for inspection. Now I want to be a frisking officer! How wonderful would that be! (Career shift eto!)

Anyway, the interior of the place was very relaxing. The walls were painted red and the entire place was dimly lit. Mellow music was continuously playing setting everyone in the mood for love and otherwise. We changed our clothes and just wrapped our bodies with towels. That is the only fashion style inside the bathhouse. But the bathhouse is not exclusively for showering or taking a bath alone. George served as a tour guide and I realized there was a gym, a sauna, a Jacuzzi, a wine bar and of course shower room. Upstairs, there were labyrinth-like rooms for people to fuck and get fucked. There was also a section called “dark room” where you can hear people moaning and wailing like crazy porn stars savoring every minute of man to man sexual actions. I admit, I got hard by just listening to them. Bigaon jud!

The four of us went our separate ways exploring the entire place and looking for prospects. I think I was the first to close a deal. We went inside one of the rooms and started talking. He said he was from Olongapo and is married already. We talked for a couple of minutes and then we started to do the deed. That’s how handful kikis are in Fahrenheit. After that, I showered and decided to just rest and relax in a viewing room where a porn movie is showing. I stroll around the place from time to time but the level of libido has gone down. I waited until George, Jeafrey and Noel came back. We went out at around 12 midnight, which was an hour extension already of our agreed time. Noel has to be blamed for this. He wanted to see light in the dark room, so we stayed an hour longer for him to find the light. And he did.

We left the place surely not empty-handed. For me it was the final and full testament of our being gay. You can’t be called a full-fledged gay until you experience Fahrenheit. Now, a week later, I honestly want to be there again. But that can’t be in the next two months. I still have to wait for the promo again and save some money again. But I will be back. In time, it would not only be Fahrenheit. Perhaps Celcius or Kelvin, if there are. Hahaha…

The night that was Mr. Cebu 2008...

2008-10-11T10:13:00.004+08:00

Patience is a virtue but time is gold. I couldn’t agree more to whoever said that to me or I heard it from.

Last night was a real testament to that statement. I, together with Gabby, Johanna, Philmar and Iris, with overwhelming excitement went to Waterfront Cebu City Hotel to behold what’s dubbed to be the first ever Mr. Cebu 2008 beauty for a cause pageant. The show would supposedly start at 7 p.m and so as men-in-trunks-hungry as we are, we took off to be the earliest birds. We waited for sometime to wait for somebody who had our tickets and then eventually settled in our seats.

I was surprised to see that the entire grand ballroom of the hotel where the pageant was held was not even half-filled considering it was already a quarter to seven. So I thought it must be a sentimental flop, if I may borrow Jobert Sucaldito’s word in his description to Sharon Cuneta-Richard Gomez movie whose title I could not remember. Almost an hour later, people were starting to come inside the hall but still not enough to be called a mob. As expected, gays from all walks of life, I mean that literally, converged to have a glimpse of the contestants’ bodies and their thing which must not be named. Some dressed up like debutantes and some with obviously overhauled noses, breasts and butts came up in very short dresses that displayed, I should say though, their stunning physical renovations courtesy of Thai surgery. I noticed also that the judges at the time were still not around. I asked one of the Bruhilda look-a-like gay staffs what exactly the time the show would start, and IT answered me with conviction that they were just waiting for the management’s go signal.

By that time, I was already quite annoyed waiting for the show to start. I sacrificed dinner just to be there early. And I hate the organizers for that. How can they make people who paid for those high-priced tickets wait for two hours? Thirty minutes is forgivable but two hours is another story. It is something we should learn to change.

Again, patience is a virtue but time is gold.

Good thing, I saw Ian there. For those of you who don’t know him, well he is somebody I think I am destined to be with. OA ra sa personal. Give me a break here, it is my birthday! Anyway, at least his mere presence lightened up everything for me. I was totally caught by surprise when I looked in his eyes and then I saw me. It was a Kodak moment!

And now that I am talking about him, I seem to forget the lines to say about the pageant already. Achuz… Okay, the show finally started at 9 p.m. with Angel Aquino as host. There were 16 contestants vying for the crown, aw the title, (of course, they’re not gonna be crowned. That would be so gay.) to be the first Mr. Cebu. The pageant scoring is divided into four parts; the casual wear, the swim wear, the formal wear and the dreadful question-and-answer. Yes, some did catch my attention and get me excited but the worms in my stomach were also excited to have some food to eat. I was really starving. My head was starting to numb and if I stayed longer, I would have gone crazy. I went home disappointed not being able to see the full show. But I could not trade my sanity for lame, I don’t know if they are level-headed, individuals whose abs I envy the most. For more information about the results and the contestants, click here.

As for me, I have already a Mr. Cebu. And that would be Ian.

OA ra sa personal. Hehehehe…

Photos were screencapped in the official Mr. Cebu 2008 website.

Rollicking...

2008-10-06T17:24:00.002+08:00

Someone bid goodbye today.

It is coincidence that while I am making this post, I am actually listening to Van’s Another Goodbye Song. Fitting enough for one of my officemates resigned and today is her last day.

Rolls, as she is shortly called by most of her friends decided to leave us behind and pursue another rewarding career outside the seemingly gloomy shadows of the office she was in and where I am right now. I don’t mean to be mean about my employer but that’s just the right way to say it, at least for me. So, is it sheer stupidity that I am still here? I hope not. I have credible reasons why I am still prolonging the agony and I am not disclosing them here.

I may not understand fully the real reason why she is leaving us all, but I think I know a little bit and I understand her totally because of that. It is a mutual feeling. Tired. Like the rest of the people here, everyone seems to get tired by the way our career paths are paved here. I don’t know if there is really even a path they are paving for us because I feel we are somehow lost. And tolerating this would not be a smart thing to do. Again, I have justification for not going.

And for everything, here is an open letter which I hope she would like despite being public.

Dear Scarlett,

That is not your real name, I know. Aimee gave me that name when I asked her what we should call you. It is the name of the character played by Angelica Panganiban in a teleserye. She chose her not because you look like Angelica, (this is NOT REALLY the case) but because she feels, you and the character seem to have a common personality. According to her, you are like Scarlett who will get what she wants no matter what it may take.

When I first met you in Victorias, I thought you were one of those maarte girls who carry the latest models of cellphones and wear a nice 2-inches black boots to office. But you are truly an exemption to the common saying that first impression lasts. As time passed by, I realized the lowliness of your spirit in the way you interact with people and that can be attested by the rest of us who have been with you.

Your open-mindedness and happy personality made it more comfortable for me to talk to you just about anything. I am also happy that you shared some of your stories with me. You were such a good companion to fun events in Mango. You served as my bait to guys so I can catch some. Your generosity sometimes surprised me. When you asked me if I liked colored contact lenses, you brought me a pair on the someday you asked me. When my funds run out and I would not be able to meet financial obligations to you, you would just simply say “Okay ra na dai oi!”. That really meant a lot to me.

And now that you are leaving, I would surely miss a lot of things. I would miss that Vanessa del Bianco’ singing style of yours. Like I said, it is an advantage! When you would be in a chorale group, you do not need to make an effort to blend because your voice is already a nice third voice.(Peace dai!)

I will miss you bringing food to the office. You always have something to eat in your bag and I would always be the one who benefits. I would miss that Remedy song of Jason Mraz that you continually play in my laptop as you sang along. I will miss your being a mirror freak. Narcissist you are because you always have a mirror in front of you at your desk. Actually for me, there is nothing wrong with that. I will miss that single-color fashion of yours. When I told you that it was an abnormal psychological condition, I was not really sure about that. I researched it over the internet but failed to get the answers. Like me, you are also a cry-baby. I will miss that too.

I want to thank you also for listening to all my stories. Thank you for reading my blog when I tell you to. Thanks for the comments and compliments. Thanks for the generosity you have bestowed on me especially during those times when I have practically nothing. Thank you for the company and for the friendship.

I wish you all the best in life, gurl! I pray that God will grant everything that your heart desires. I hope that you will finally find the person who deserves your love and someone who can give you perennial joy and happiness. I hope you won’t forget us all.

Sincerely yours,

Ang Takda

P. S. I am posting some of the happy moments we captured in pictures here.

P.P.S Do you really like Chiboy?? Hahaha...

I broke my glasses today!

2008-09-23T14:52:00.002+08:00

I broke my glasses today.

I was sad but happy at the same time. I was sad, actually worried, because I have a client visit this afternoon and having a blurry vision (I have a +425grade for both eyes) is for sure a difficult situation to be in. It would be my first time to visit such client and not being able to clearly see their faces and examine their documents well would be an added burden on me as I continue on to work. Happy because finally it’s gonna be replaced. I have been complaining about my glasses because it has been almost three years. It was that long that it basically went out of fashion and it has depreciated so much not just in value but in its physical appearance too.

And today, while I carelessly took out my headphone from my head, that arm of the glasses (I don’t know if that’s the term for that part that holds the glasses in our ears) was pulled out with the wire. It bent out and an only almost microscopic part of the metal arm of the glasses kept if from being torn apart. Our HR tried to repair it with a mightier-than-a-Mighty-Bond glue that she has, but when she positioned it for gluing, it broke. And here it is!

Three years is not bad at all. According to them, we need to replace our glasses at least once a year. And in my case, it has served its term I guess. For three years, it has helped me see the world clearly. It has helped me read good books and watch movies without discomfort. It has helped me find cute guys and hook up. (This is not necessary though!) And for that, I want to thank it for everything.

I will be wearing my contacts tomorrow. But there is really a big difference between glasses and contacts. It’s not perfectly clear if you wear contacts. In my experience, it only covers for a limited distance. Farther, it becomes fuzzy and your eyes seem to be cloudy. It sometimes irritates your eyes especially if you won’t put solution from time to time causing your cornea to lacerate, and consequently making your eyes red. Well, in some cases though, it is advantageous. Of course I would not want to wear glasses if I go to disco. That would be so uncomfortable. The only complaint I can think about glasses is the discomfort it brings. I don’t know but I just don’t like to have something hanging in my face. It makes me look older!

Yet now, I don’t have choice. Maybe I would just carry with me a gallon of solution and drop a glass of it to my eyes from time to time.

I am actually wearing still these handicapped glasses of mine making this post as I can’t see the words I am typing without them. Pathetic, I am! When can I have that laser treatment? Hahay…

Bohol: Conquered!

2008-09-22T17:43:00.003+08:00

I came. I saw. I conquered!

Yes, last August 31, 2008, I, together with Noel and 8 others conquered Bohol , the home of tarsiers and the world renowned Loboc Children’s Choir. Ever since, I have always been fascinated by the province’s beauty and its rich culture and history. When I was there, I could not almost believe that what I read and just saw in books and pictures about the province were simply flashing right before my very eyes.

Traveling on a tight budget, we just rode a boat to Tagbilaran, the capital city for 4 hours or so. The boat was not big enough for people to roam around so it literally bored us. Since most of the group just came off from a night shift duty, they took the opportunity to sleep and rest and I, who went undertime from office, finished a book called Number the Stars by Lois Lowry.

When we arrived, I was amazed by the overall cleanliness of the city, at least for those we have passed by. I think the government of Bohol should be given credit for exerting effort in tidying up the place but still needs though to redesign their tricycles to something more comfortable for its passengers. I was nearly having a stiff neck because of its odd shape and size.

Anyway, we capped the first night with something we do best, disco! We then proceeded to Bohol Tropics where Lazer , dubbed as Bohol ’s high-end disco bar is located to check out cute guys and perhaps grab one or two for fun. They are right. The place is great. If there is an award for the cleanest restroom among all the disco houses, then Lazer would have been a grad slam winner. Their restroom is so so clean that you can even sleep on the floor. But that night was a bit unlucky night for both Noel and me. There were a number of cute guys, overly cute that is, but we never had the courage to run after them, maybe because it was not our place. Had it been in Cebu , then we would have both fled in seconds to satisfy our bodily desires. (I am not really serious about this.)

The following day is the tour proper. The itinerary of the tour package was just perfect enough for us to experience the best Bohol can offer. We kicked off at the Sandugo Shrine. This is where the Spanish explorer Miguel Lopez de Legazpi and Bohol-native Datu Sikatuna performed blood compact as a sign of friendship between two different countries. Then we headed to Baclayon Church , one of the country’s oldest churches. This magnificent work of architecture was believed to have been built as early as 1717. We were just unfortunate because their museum was closed at the time we were there. We would have learned more about the church and the history of Baclayon as a whole. After that, we went on to see the infamous python of Bohol . I don’t really know why this was even included. For ophidiophobics like me, this is not a good site to see. The tarsier on the other hand was the same as I expected it. Small, big eyes and with a disgusting smell. It is not pleasant. It is only famous because it’s extremely rare.

We had our lunch at Loboc’s Floating Restaurant. We were eating while we were sailing. For me, it was the best part of the trip. Again, we were staggered by the cleanliness of the vicinity. The terminal was clean. There were no signs of garbage floating on the river. Noel and I were amusingly looking for flaws and finally found one when we saw a single coconut floating on the river. But alas, one terminal crew started to ignite his boat engine and drove all the way to get that single coconut out of the river. For someone to make an effort to drive a small boat just to get one piece of trash is something saintly. It is something laudable. At that sight, Noel and I were even more astonished. While we were sailing, and eating, we were entertained by a young lady who sang folk songs and did famous pop songs too. Perhaps, this is their way of resembling gondolas in Venice.

After Loboc, we went on to the man-made forest. There was a sudden change in the humidity of the place as we were approaching the forest. It was cooler. It was serene. It was refreshing. The shade from the trees made the overall cool breeze in the area. Again, to the people of Bohol who have thought of this brilliant idea, kudos! They have not only attracted tourists but preserved nature as well.

I was always lost for words to describe how I was really struck by the beauty of Bohol. I was even more at awe when we started to see small mountains scattered at both sides of the van we were in. We immediately realized that those were already part of the wondrous Chocolate Hills. When we arrived at the viewing site, which is at the zenith of one of the hills, we were even more amazed. I thought that Bohol must have been a spit away when God showered natural abundance and beauty. Truly, this is a blessing that should be treasured and should be well taken cared of. I wish Surigao, my home province were also blessed with natural wonders like that of Chocolate Hills.

The final site we went to was Sagbayan Peak. Also part of the Chocolate Hills but it was more developed. They built rooms for guests who are willing to stay overnight. They have also a hall which can actually hold conferences and corporate meetings. They have also made the entire site very colorful to attract children. They were currently building a playground for kids with real little houses and gardens.

One day is not enough to unearth all of the province’s treasure. There are still beaches and caves to discover. There are still other historical sites on the other side of the island which I believe are worth visiting too. Next time, I think we should have a higher budget so we can savor everything about Bohol. And maybe next time, I can grab one cute guy too.

Sleeping in transit...

2008-09-18T22:27:00.001+08:00

Not once. Not twice but for so many times already that I went beyond my stop point to my way home. What a stupidity! And today, I did it again! Usually, I would ride a v-hire from Ayala Center to Bagongdaan that is about 30 kilometers in distance or on the average an hour of travel. The little comfort that the air-conditioned van offered must have worsened my sleepiness, thus making me slumber. Adding to that is the soothing music of Gary Valenciano and Leona Lewis continuously playing in my ears. And today, I must have really slept because I didn’t notice the van stopped. And when I opened my eyes and saw unfamiliar buildings, I knew I missed it again. This has always been the case.

I am not happy about this at all. In fact, I was a bit embarrassed with the rest of the people in the van. I wasn’t quick enough to pretend that I actually halted at the point where I should halt. I am still lucky I wasn’t robbed or hurt. I was a little scared as well because I know in the news and in the movies that people who sleep in transit would most probably be the victims of robbery and worst, rape. Well, the latter may not be the case for me but precaution is the keyword here.

I think I have learned the lesson. Never sleep while traveling especially if it’s just short distance. For people like me who fall asleep easily, an attempt is not even an option. I know that the moment you start to close those eyes, you can’t stop but lose energy to open them again. And chances are, you might not just miss your stop point, you might also suffer the worst.

For me, I think I should do something to keep me up while traveling. Maybe I should have a candy or a chewing gum. Text some friends but look out the window from time to time. Or maybe tell the driver in advance of the place I want him to pullover. Or any other way that I would not be in Basilan instead of just being in Davao. That would be so horrifying!

If ony I were the judge..

2008-09-14T22:40:00.003+08:00

The Pinoy Dream Academy has just closed its academic season with Laarni as the Grand Star Dreamer. Like most of the Filipinos here and abroad, I devoted an hour every night to watch the scholars making their way to becoming the grand winner. From checking on their websites and memorizing the songs they have performed, to checking out their friendster accounts, to debating with officemates as who would be the best and who would we want to go home, I was literally a fan!

I was disappointed with the results of this season, especially with regards to Miguel. Okay, he may have the looks but he definitely has to work hard on his vocals because he has such a limited range. It was obvious during their performance night that he was trying really hard to hit notes which were effortlessly done by his counterparts, Van and Bugoy. He was just lost. And to know that he came third beating Liezel and my personal favorite Van was frustrating for me. I don’t have anything against Laarni as the winner because she deserved it. Bugoy on the other hand can’t be the champion basically because of his looks. I know I am being mean and unfair. I just feel that if he would be the winner, he can’t give justice to the title. He would have issues like his sexuality which will really ruin him inside and would eventually lead to his collapse.

Miguel should have been eliminated earlier on the show. He was a consistent probationary scholar and if it were not for the money of his family, he would have gone like candle in the wind. His performances were absolutely substandard. I would rather stay longer on the line of the phone listening to the background music when the operator puts you on hold than watching him on stage performing like an old wedding singer. Liezel and Van are way more deserving.

Technically and based on what I have seen, this would have been the final results. Laarni as the winner, Bugoy, Van, Liezel, Cris and never mind.

(Photo credits:www.photobucket.com)

Missing Kuya Jojo...

2008-09-11T11:17:00.002+08:00

On September 21, it will be the 10th death anniversary of my brother, Kuya Jojo. Time flies so swiftly indeed. It was not so long ago when tears flooded all over our house as we wept and mourned for his early departure. He was only twenty when he suffered a multiple organ failure that led to cardiac arrest which eventually took his life.

I was born 4 years after him. When we were young, we used to argue over a lot of things as siblings normally do. Sometimes, we would even fight as to who would fetch water or who would wash the dishes. But as a younger brother, my parents would always spare me and he would have to do everything. At night, he would challenge me to solve all his ridiculous riddles which I tried hard to the best of my ability to answer. Of course, I was not as wise as he was during that time so I had to ask my parents for the answer. And then I would proudly shout at him the answer as if it was I who actually solved it. Before going to bed, (I slept together with my parents and he was in the next room) he would continue to throw more complicated riddles and would sometimes intersperse it with loud and most of the time stinky release of his carbon dioxide. And then we would all burst into laughter.

But right after my elementary graduation, I moved to Cebu to study high school. For three years, we didn’t have the chance to see each other. During my yearly vacation, he was in Manila studying. Cellphones were still out of nowhere so basically we didn’t have much communication. It was only on my 3rd year vacation that he was home but I never realized it would be also be the last time to see him live. Awkwardly, few hours before I finally head back to Cebu, he was crying, sobbing as if he never wanted me to go. He said he would feel nostalgic of me. It was actually the first time that I saw him cry for reason at that time I could not understand. My parents would not even cry every time they send me off after vacation. Truly, it was bizarre for me.

Now, I think it was premonition. He must have felt that he’s not gonna see me anymore. He must have wanted me to stay so that we could spend the last of his days together. But who was I to know all of these?

Over a year later, (I already graduated in high school and was already working) my sister called in an obviously sad voice to tell me to go home because Kuya was getting worse. I didn’t know if I felt worried or sad that time, but I immediately filed for leave and went home right away. On board, I knew that something was really wrong. When I arrived the following morning, I came across with my cousin on her way to the school, and that sad look upon her face told it all. I knew then that Kuya died.

It was the most depressing and heartbreaking moment in my life that when I got home, embraces and forlorn cries welcomed me. I immediately felt the loss and broke down to tears. It was even more miserable to see your loved ones crying hard too. Losing Kuya is probably the lowest point of my life and my family.

After a decade, I am happy that we have all moved on from that gloomy time in our lives. My parents, who went to Manila with my sister for a year after the death, have now totally accepted the loss. We continued living our own lives and from time to time visit Kuya’s grave during special occasions like his birthday and of course death anniversary. He may have gone but the happy memories he had shared with me will never be forsaken. I miss calling him Kuya. I really do. ( Gosh, I can’t believe I am actually holding back my tears from falling as I finish this post.)

On his anniversary, I pray that he is now happy up there! I hope he had found peace in heaven. I hope he would pray for me and my family and watch us over always.

And since he would have been 31 years old this September 14, I also want to say “Happy Birthday!” Never said this before when he was still alive, but I love you, Kuya and I miss you.

(Photo credits: www.armyofmom.com)

This could be the start of something new...

2008-09-09T09:18:00.001+08:00

I finally made it!

For the longest time that I had not been attending masses, I finally made it yesterday, September 8, 2008. I was dragged along by my officemate to go to Church wherein I was still having second thoughts whether to go or not. I was not prepared to go to that place as far as my faith is concerned. I know you have already an idea why. I don’t know what inspired me but I said yes.

Coincidentally, it was the birthday of Mary and the mass was solely dedicated to her being the mother of God and the mother of us all. I prayed that I would have that sense of focus to the celebration but the presiding priest seemed to block my mind from concentrating. He was rushing when he came in the altar and stopped the woman who was reading all the intentions for that mass. I don’t know if he was just suffering from extreme diarrhea or he was just too excited to watch Betty La Fea.

However in his homily, he made it up for me at least. He had a prepared speech as priests usually have. Although still chanting like an old politician making promises to his constituents in megaphone, his discourse was all meaty, in all fairness. He talked about motherhood in relation to Mary and he related his own experiences as a child about her mother. He stressed that our mothers are the source of love, inspiration, mercy and most of the times, comfort. He also pointed out something that really struck me and I quote “Man loves his woman the best. His wife the most. His mother the longest.”

As a Mama’s boy myself, I agree with him. She may not always be vocal about it, but her actions definitely say it all. She is my source of love, comfort, joy and inspiration. I feel that nothing and no one can harm me while she is around.

Anyway, that mass did make me realize a couple of things. First, I realized that I still feel at home inside the Church. By that I mean, I still feel the sense of belongingness. I still know the responses ( thank God!) and the songs as well. Second, it is not too hard to find time to visit the Church. It only takes an hour or so for the entire duration. And with all the time I have, it would only be so selfish of me not share an hour.

I hope this is it! I hope this is the start of a new life. I hope that the fire of desire for goodness which has long been extinguished by my sinfulness would now start to spark and light my way back to God. I made a promise that day and I fervently hope I would be able to accomplish it.

And as for the priest, he was not having diarrhea. He was just a die-hard Kapamilya who was, like the rest of us, too excited to be Bettyful!

The best Christmas song ever...

2008-09-05T14:06:00.003+08:00

It's just September but it must be really true that we have the longest celebration of Christmas in the world. Filipinos think that when the month ending with “ber” starts, the celebration begins. The people are starting to decorate their homes and we can hear Christmas carols over the radio and everywhere.

When talking of songs, there is nothing I can think of than O Holy Night. For me, it is perfect. It says of the salvation that Christ brought to earth upon his birth. It signifies of a new hope to start a new life and sin no more. It implies an end to sadness and gives a way to happiness and joy.

I have heard many known artists who have their individual interpretation of this song but have to do curtsy to Mariah Carey’s rendition. I don’t know exactly when she recorded this but I heard it during a Christmas outreach program in college way back in 2000. I was immediately enthralled by the power of her voice. It was amazing! The piece was especially arranged for her voice and her range. Here, Regine Velasquez, Kyla, Jonalyn Viray and many others tried to do her version but totally failed, as far as my expectation is concerned.

Watch and listen to this and you’ll understand what I am talking about.

Who am I?

2008-09-02T14:03:00.006+08:00

While my brain and my writing knack are still working for me, I might as well use this very rare opportunity to make posts as much as I can. I am afraid that in the next few hours I might lose the itch again. And for me, there is nothing more interesting than to write about me coming out in the open finally, without inhibition.

So let me start now.

From the very moment that I gain consciousness of the world around me, I always knew I was different. Alright, gay! I was closer to my mother and my sisters and all my female cousins. I played with them more. I went out with them more often. My father would not allow me to do manly things, those that require strength and physical power. Perhaps, he just loved me more because I am the youngest but he never tolerated any signs of homosexuality that my young self would sometimes manifests. If caught, he would scold me and threaten to drown me in the sea. Yes, the typical jokes about a masculine father threatening to drown his gay son were very true to me. It was frightening to me! Even in my innocent mind that time, I already felt the twinges of rejection. And worse because it’s coming from my family.

The gay manifestations became more obvious when I started school. I met Juanito and Jeafrey whose names before were still John Michael and Jeffrey, respectively. We clicked initially. We had the same interests. We loved the arts. We were always the favorite dancers of our teachers. But despite of this ego-lifting appreciation of our teachers, we still suffered from the harsh teasing of our classmates and schoolmates. Every gay person in the world has surely experience this. It was disturbing. It would always break my day. At the same time, it was in elementary when I completely affirmed my being gay because I had crush on the younger brother of my classmate. His name was Carvin. Seeing him going inside our classroom to get or ask something from his kuya was euphoric. On the sad note though, he never knew I had liked him.

Anyway, high school came with so much more stirring experiences. Destiny may have played its game well because I studied in an exclusive school for boys, The Sisters of Mary Boystown School. It’s an environment where being gay would either be a jackpot or kalabasa. The sisters of course were strict in its most superlative form. There were some cruel guys but it was in this place where I had my fair share of being loved and to love. Noel has squealed about this in his blog. Here, being branded as gay was less painful for me. Maybe because I had my special someone and it didn’t matter whether I was gay because somebody loved me exactly for being that.

The most challenging and the most painful stage of being gay was when I stepped out high school and was living in the real world where people are more tactless and less prudent. This time I tried to change somehow. I tried to act the way a man should. I tried not to show colors of the rainbow in whatever I do. But some still managed to notice and would confront me at face. Deny was all I can do. When I was in college, I acted straight even more. When my parents and relatives would ask me if I have a girlfriend, the only excuse I used was I was still studying. Having one would only hinder my dream to graduate with honors. My classmates of course knew about me but would never confront me. I think it was respect that withheld them from doing so and I love them for that. It was during in these times where I was having doubts, insecurities and even disbelief in God for giving such an enormous burden in my life. My actions were limited and I could not express what is really in my mind and in my heart for fear of being laughed at and rejected. I tried to be the most proper and composed as I can be. It was painful because I felt that I was killing a part, a significant part that is, in myself. To get away, I focused on my studies and accumulated friends whom I believe would accept me as I am, eventually.

And in that auspicious night, (O how I regret not to remember the date) over a silly game of truth and consequence, I opened up to Nikki, Philmar and Johanna about my sexuality. It is not that they don’t have any idea at all, but it is something that should be coming from me. They listened to every details of my story and accepted me even more after that. I must admit I was a bit shy after I told them. It took a while to finally free myself, come what may. It was a total emancipation from my spirit’s vexation. Now, I can freely talk anything to them, to my officemates but not necessarily to my family. I don’t have to act. I just have to be myself. I laugh whenever I want to. I yell at anything that excites me. I flirt around cute guys in the vicinity. I can now freely, not always though, make lust whenever I want to and when my financial power permits me to.

Gay life is not easy at all, most especially here in the Philippines. You can just be discriminated from time to time. Be always prepared to hear criticisms and demeaning insults. You may not also be very lucky in your love life, which I think is always the case. And again, friends are the best creation of God. With them, life is easier, lighter and funnier. One big boisterous can shake all the tribulations off.

Yes, I am gay! I am not totally proud of it but I don’t abhor being one. If that’s my destiny, so be it. I have embraced the fact that I could not like girls no matter how goddess-like their beauties are. I have also accepted the painful reality that straight guys are meant for girls. If Philmar can’t stand the mayas even at a distance, well I am different. I can swallow them.

Personally, I think being gay is not a punishment. It is a way of life. I think there are really some men who just want to be with men. They feel more comfortable with them. They can express more with them. They can even excel in everything with them. They feel more love with them. Everybody’s journey is individual. If you fall in love with a boy, you fall in love with a boy. I think it is our right to love and choose who to love.

I hope I would not be like Leonard Matlovich who said and I quote, “In military, they gave me medals for killing two men and discharge me for loving one.”

Ouch! Life can really be harsh, sometimes.

(Photo credits: www.istockphoto.com)

Back to basic...

2008-08-29T16:43:00.002+08:00

In most of my idle times, I would always think of my dream life and the things that I would do. The feeling that those thoughts bring is ecstatic. For a moment, I can feel as if I own the world. I can feel the comfort it suggests. And then also for a moment, I would realize, it’s just a pure imagination and I am back to the reality.

It hurts me thinking that I am not living the life I so long dreamt. I think I have not managed my time well. I think I have traded all the opportunities with a one-night-stand fun. I have almost come to the point where I feel it’s enough to be this way, thus trying to learn new things is not anymore interesting to me. I have lived negatively in the belief that I can get by everyday and that there is always tomorrow. With this in mind, I was left behind by the rest of the people in the world. I have not moved forward. Along the way, I lost my aptitude to learn new things for self-improvement. I lost my confidence in facing and interacting with people which eventually led to my being lost in this labyrinth called life. I lost direction and I think I know why.

I didn’t have God with me.

But don’t get me wrong. He did not forget me. It was I who forgot Him. For over three years since college graduation, I have not attended mass regularly. If I did, I did not receive communion. I can only attend mass during alumni homecoming in our high school. At times, although I could not forget to have the sign of the cross before I close my eyes to sleep, I feel it was not enough to even thank Him for the day. For over three years of being agnostic, I feel I have tolerated committing sins one after the other on a regular basis. I could not anymore feel the guilt nor the bothering conscience. It struck me sometimes to think that I can go overnight in the disco bars hanging out with friends and not being able to go to Church for an hour. I know I have been that sinful and I am totally NOT proud of it.

I hope it’s not too late. Lately, I am feeling the need to go back to God and live my life with His guidance. I know some people would laugh at me saying this, but I really don’t care. At least now, I am feeling that desire to pray again which was lost and dead for the longest time. I am not saying I am going to sin no more, or I would take priesthood to overstate it, but I will really try. This is not going to be easy and drastic. I am taking it step by step until I can finally feel God again.

I want to feel that fear again. That fear to skip Sunday masses. That fear to talk back to elders, parents and bosses. That fear to become overly proud of myself. That fear to stare at those tempting eyes which can lead to a more outrageous sinning, almost always. That fear to stay close to the occasions of sins.

Hoping that in going back to the basics, I would be able to thoroughly course my path to success.

Great companions...

2008-08-29T09:05:00.006+08:00

It’s been a century perhaps since my last post. I guess I was infected by the so called writers’ block. And in my still constant bloghopping, I realized I was not the only one who has the same problem. Maybe some have suffered from personal problems or maybe they are damn too busy to even tap the keyboard. Some have even bid goodbye while some were just on hiatus. But in my case, it’s laziness!

Anyway, here’s a shot at reviving the pulse and heartbeat of this blog. For so long, I have always wanted to write about my college life and the people I have met along the way. The five-year journey was one hell of a ride. It was full of excitement, fun, laughter, victories and even pain and tears. If I were to make an article about the entire duration of my college, that would be close enough to be a novel. (I know, I am just exaggerating!).

It is normal for a class to have small groups. The boys, I mean the real ones, would always be together. The old high school friends who seemed to have easily adapted with the college life because they were not at all nervous nor intimidated were seated close to each other. I who was one of the shy ones was of course silent in the corner. But as time goes by, the silent me has become the noisiest unfortunately. Some groups have remained strong while some have dissolved and have either merged into other existing groups or formed another one. The latter appears to be the case of the group where I belong. And we call ourselves, The Merge.

(Boys from left to right: Philmar, Me and Tope, and girls from left to right:Johanna, Diana, Angie, Rara and Nikki.)

The Merge was composed of three guys and five girls. All throughout the years, we would always be seen doing things together. Be it in the library pretending to study, in the canteen, in the gym and basically everywhere in the campus. Outside the school we would still hang out together. Personally, they were and are still the very persons I can count on up to this time after my family.

Here I want to share with you who they are, at least to best of my knowledge, and how they have touched my life.

Tope. The only Chinese bearing name in the class is a very humble person. He never brags about of what he has. He was the undefeated badminton player in school during our times. Although at times, I got pissed off by his jokes and his being frugal, his unique way of cheering me up counterbalanced everything. I have not heard of him much lately but I know, he is still a friend I can turn to.

Rara. Originally from other group, she is the person to trust when it comes to money business. I swear she can be a very successful businesswoman someday. Generous would be the exact word to describe her. When somebody in the class needs money for emergency, she would always be there to lend a helping hand. When we need a place for a group study, a project, or even a dance or song rehearsal for a school program, she would selflessly lend her home as a venue. In our last encounter during her visit here in Cebu, I could say that nothing much have changed except for the nice phone and camera. Indeed, being good in money can take you places.

Diana. The holiest in the group. Although of different religion, we never made our religious differences an issue. In her stories about her family, I can say that Diana is the strongest in character in the entire class. She has experienced so much more about the realities of life than the rest of the people her age. And she pulled it off! Now happily married to her long-time boyfriend, she still checks out my friendster and I on her. We may not have been texting that much, but the feeling is mutual. I know we are still good friends.

Philmar. Bayot. He was the funniest in class. He was one of the first people I became close with in school. He never fails to make me laugh at his jokes no matter how corny they may seem. He lights up everything. He is a fan of Naruto, Bleach, Deathnote and many others which I could not really understand. Sometimes, he never keeps his promises, which in one time led to a semi-cold war between him and Angie. In fairness, he does everything to make up. He is a good companion in my exploration of the gay world we both miserably live in. What I admire about him is his being unpretentious. He doesn’t hide anything. He is real inside out.

Angie. One distinctive character I could immediately associate Angie with is responsible. She is the most responsible person I know. At her young age (FYI: She is 2 years younger than most of us), it is already obvious how well she could handle responsibility, be it in her family or in school. Active in so many things in school, she still managed to stay in the Dean’s List and eventually graduated with honors ahead of everybody. Now working for a company in Manila, she helps her parents in sending her younger siblings to school. That is something I really admired about her. So noble!

Johanna. Along with Philmar, she was one of the first people I became close with. Unquestionably, she was one of the most diligent in class. Music was I think the apparent reason why we became friends. We both love music but sadly she was the only one who was loved back by music. And read this. She never looks her age. She’s no daughter of a goddess but really, she is way younger than her age. I don’t know what her secret is. Because of that, she never is out of boyfriends. And read again. Good-looking boyfriends at that. She is also a great company in uncovering the hot spots here in the metro.

Nikki. The most intelligent in class. I think the incident that perhaps gave us the opportunity to be friends was when we join a certain contest in our first year. From then on, we would always join contests and whatever activities together. She was the brain of the many innovative and successful activities in school. She is a walking encyclopedia for me. She knows almost everything under the sun. She is the influence behind my addiction to art films and film festivals. As a bookworm herself, she also influenced me to read good books. I think the best quality of Nikki is her being open-minded and very accepting. She never judges and would always accept anybody as they are. We don’t go out together more often now because she devotes her time in studying to be a lawyer. I know she will be.

Here are some of the captured memories of our college days...

We don’t see each other that much but I know in my heart and in my soul that the friendship is still getting stronger. Thanks to the Internet, everyone is just a click away. To Tope, Rara, Diana, Philmar, Angie, Johanna and Nikki, thank you for the friendship. I hope this is forever. I love y’all!

Guilty as charged...

2008-07-02T10:30:00.002+08:00

Here’s one of the surveys in Friendster that I really find exciting. The original rule is you just have to write whether you are GUILTY or INNOCENT as answer to the following questions below. But since this is my blog, I am gonna change the rule. I choose to elaborate some of my answers. As you see, here, I am not hiding anything. As much as possible, I would like this blog to be a venue for expressing and telling the world of my true self.

Game!

Danced in front of your mirror naked?
- Guilty. Yeah, sometimes, I would even dance like a macho dancer.

Ever told a lie?
- Guilty. I think everyone did.

Had feelings for someone whom you can't have back?
- Guilty. I believe this has been my situation all of the time. I know you know what I mean. And I must say, it’s never easy to fall for someone when in the first place you know you can’t have him.

Ever kissed someone of the same sex?
- Guilty. Actually, I have never kissed someone of the opposite sex.

Kissed a picture?
- Guilty. When I was still working in MEPZ, I fell for someone who was so close to me, like that of a best friend. And corny as it may appear, but I always kissed his picture before going to the office and kissed it again when I arrived home.

Slept in until 5 PM?
- Guilty. There are times that we just feel lazy about doing anything practically. And we just let time pass by as we reward our body with that long slumber.

Fallen asleep at work/school?
- Guilty. When I was working in MEPZ on night shifts, I was caught by my supervisor sleeping under a large carton in the warehouse. I then got a warning letter where I explained why I did such thing. But in fairness, it never reached a point where I was sanctioned for suspension.

Held a snake?
- Guilty. I could hold a snake before and would even scare other children of the seemingly spine-chilling creature. But things do change. I can’t stand seeing a live snake for long, more to hold one. I think I would die without being bitten.

Been suspended from school?
- Innocent. I have always been a good student. My family can fully attest to that without even bribing.

Worked at a fast food restaurant?
- Guilty. Greenwich. It was in my fourth year in college that I decided to take a part-time job to help myself financially with the school’s requirements, projects and all. But this money-earning trek of mine was short-lived. My father told me to stop when he learned that my grades have suffered. I realized, it is really not easy to serve two masters at the same time.

Stolen from a store?
- Innocent. I have never stolen anything from a store and have no plans of doing it in the future. I would rather be executed from killing somebody than to be punished of stealing.

Been fired from a job?
- Innocent. I voluntarily resigned from all of the previous company I had worked for.

Sang karaoke?
- Guilty. This is like a therapy from a week-long stressful work. It’s always fun to sing in the karaoke. I don’t care if I was not in the right pitch and in the correct tune. Here, I can just be the diva I want to be.

Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
- Guilty. Many times already. So many that I could not point out a single instance.

Done something you regret?
- Guilty. In life, there would be times when you feel you could have done something in other ways. But I am such a happy person. When I regret about something, the mourning would only be for a week and even less. Over a pitcher of kamikaze, I would just dance the pain away.

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose?
- Guilty. This is normal for someone who has great friends, funny friends. I have Philmar and Gabby who never fail to make me laugh hilariously even at their corniest jokes. Sometimes, it’s not only water. It would sometimes be the food I was eating. Hilarious indeed!

Caught a snowflake on your tongue?
- Innocent. We don’t have snow here. And I have never been to a place which has one.

Kissed in the rain?
- Innocent. But this doesn’t mean I am not gonna do it. I would love to do it. Kissing somebody in the rain would, for me, be the most romantic moment one can experience. I would want to know what it tastes when the saliva is mixed with the rain. I am so naughty.

Sat on a roof top?
- Guilty. Yes. I sat on a rooftop not for any romantic moment with somebody but because we were children who were merely playing hide and seek. Next time I sit on a roof, I make sure it would be with somebody. And that we would just be gazing at the stars above.

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on?
- Innocent. In case, somebody does it to me, he’d be ready with my revenge. I don’t like jokes like that. And if he seriously does it, then that would have something to be settled properly.

Shaved your head?
- Innocent. I know I have an ugly set of hair but I think I would look terrible without it.

Slept naked?
- Guilty. Yes, in the times when I feel naughty( actually horny), I would lock the door of my room and sleep naked. And for sure, in those times, I was not only sleeping. (Hahaha!)

Had a gym membership?
- Innocent. I was supposed to have but I declined due to some miscommunications which I have already shared in my blog in Friendster.

Made your boy friend cry?
- Innocent. No further explanation.

Been in a band?
- Innocent. If I was, then the group would have been long disbanded. The people would not be happy to listen to someone who could memorize any song by heart but sang them otherwise. Right, Noel?

Shot a gun?
- Innocent. I am afraid of guns.

Donated Blood?
- Guilty. I must admit that the donation was not really heartfelt. I just donated blood for the Red Cross in college because I want to be exempted from the ROTC formation for 2 months.

Eaten alligator meat?
- Innocent. In the first place, is it edible?

Eaten cheesecake?
- Guilty.

Still love someone you shouldn't?
- Guilty. Yeah. I realize I still feel something towards W despite the advice of Noel to move away from him after learning that W already has someone. If being guilty of this would have a penalty, then I would be dead of lethal injection by now.

Have a tattoo?
- Innocent. My father doesn’t like the idea. And I am not doing it.

Like someone, but will never tell who?
- Guilty. Maybe at the start, I won’t tell anybody about it. But now, I have such trustworthy friends whom I can share anything about.

Wanted to do something, didn't do it, and regretted it?
- Guilty. Every time there is an alumni homecoming in school, I would really want to have a confession. Get a new life. Focus. Live well. But when I am already there, I just can’t have the courage and the heart to tell all the sins I have committed. And I go home regretting.

Peed in a bush?
- Guilty. Of course when no one is around. I am a very private person and I personally don’t like people peeing anywhere.

Ruined a surprise?
- Guilty. I know, it is never my forte to pretend. I would be the first person to be noticed hiding something.

Got totally drunk one night and you have an important exam tomorrow morning?
- Innocent. Like I said, I was a good student.

A total stranger treat you by paying your jeepney fare?
- Innocent. But I remember giving 5 pesos to somebody for a tricycle fare.

The verdict is I am guilty. Got a problem with that?

The change in me...

2008-06-10T13:49:00.004+08:00

There is nothing permanent in this world. Everything changes. And so does my name.

When I started to create this blog, I thought of a blog title that would be unique. Something that would speak what my blog is really about.. Then I came up with Lifamin Chalomot Mitgashmin. This is a song from Israel which literally means sometimes, dreams come true. I had explained why I had chosen this to be my blog name in my older post.

Then I think that I have to change it to something English so that people can easily pronounce and understand. Same with my old name, my new name comes from a song entitled the same. I first heard this song over Regine Velasquez’ Bantay Bata Concert years way back. This was written by no less than Mr. Ryan Cayabyab. There are many interpretations of this song by many of our talented local artists but Regine’s rendition just captured me. Her powerful voice and the amount of emotions that she has put in singing this standing-ovation-worthy song convey the real story.

The lyrics, I must say is genuinely magnificent. It tells exactly of what my love life is going though right now. This is not the Bantay Bata video. But I hope this still compensates.

We speak but the words we say mean nothing.
We smile but the smiles we give are wanting.
We look upon each other's eyes, no spark
No glow, no real signs, but we both know
This is all for show.

Until that sometime, somewhere,
We could show the world we have each other
Sometime, somewhere we need not hide out feelings,
We just keep on believing that we both have the time together
Sometime and somewhere, our lips would be free at last
To say the words we've hungered to say.

And we won't have to worry, we smile we won't say sorry
One look and we have cast our fears aside.
Sometime, that sometime will turn to forever, for all time.
Somewhere, our somewhere would not be just one place,
But everywhere.

Until that sometime, somewhere,
We just have to be content with stealing glances
Somehow, content with saying nothing, smiles that are
Always wanting. Though deep inside it hurts
Because we know that our love, like love,
Is what it is, it's what we got
Our love, like love will have to wait
Until that sometime, somewhere.

I hope this blog would not experience identity crisis again in the future just like the one writing this. And I hope that I would be able to find that sometime, somewhere with someone.

Ef's birthday...

2008-06-02T17:13:00.004+08:00

This is again a late post about a late celebration!

Why have I become passive of being tardy now? Why does it not matter to me at all now? The company that I am working does not penalize tardiness. I mean they only deduct from our salaries the lost time and don’t have certain rules regarding absences and tardiness. Thank God because if they do, I would now be out there looking for a new employer who would accept someone terminated due to tardiness. But this is not the story of this post. Another one will be made about this.

Last May 25, Ef celebrated 25 years of existence. We were not able to celebrate on time because her parents from Leyte were in town for her birthday also. We don’t want to rob her rare time with her family. So we decided to have it the next weekend. And this was it!

Ef is an ex-officemate who I wish is still here in the office. This beautiful woman exudes strength and excellence. She is two years younger than me but obviously she is more accomplished, more successful, and a lot better as a professional. At first, I was not sure if we could become friends because she was so intimidating. But sometimes, first impression doesn’t last. And we have proven that. Now, when we have the time to get together with the rest of the officemates and ex-officemates, we openly share our stories and would talk about serious stuffs like our careers, love life and even religion. I always have fun listening to their stories and sharing mine.

Here ere are some of the captured moments on her late birthday celebration at Bigby’s Ayala.

A very special friend...

2008-06-02T16:35:00.002+08:00

I think for a starter of this blogworld, this post would actually be too late since my last one. I had actually drafted a number of articles yet I did not have the confidence and the courage to post it here. But surely, I will have them here in due time.

Anyway, I should not be writing anything today because I am jam-packed with reports and deadlines. One client just ended its fiscal year and I expect a lot of work to be finished. And since the month just ended as well, the compliances to the government agencies and other statutory reports endlessly tire me out.

But today is a special day for me.

It is Jehson’s 26th birthday. And this post would basically be about him and how we became friends. Special friend as I personally classify it.

Jehson is straight and I can attest to that. He is one year younger than me. In high school, I never had a memory of any sort of acquaintances with him. But he claimed that he has seen me one time when I went to his dormitory to talk about something to his helping brother (this is what we call our dormitory prefect). This I could not really remember. Nonetheless, we, together with another friend Efren really got close when we worked together for a company in MEPZ. I was actually hesitant to make friends with them because we had no common interest. Both of them liked basketball a lot while I would rather clean the house and do the laundry. But because we came from the same high school and were instilled with the same values, we eventually became good friends and almost inseparable.

We had the same working shift thus we would always be seen together. Although we did not live in the same house, at work we basically do things together. We ate, slept, took illegal breaks, went home together. On weekends, we would always catch the latest movies in the malls. We would even go to church together. I was so used to being with them that one time I was certainly upset when they did not tell me that they have eaten midnight lunch already. I was waiting for them for about half an hour and my starving stomach prompted me to just go to the canteen. There I found out that they have finished already and were about to take a nap as we usually do.

I felt I was betrayed. I felt I was left alone. I felt lonely. And for almost three months, I did not talk to them. It was my way of taking revenge. I wanted them to be bothered of why I was behaving that way. At the time of course, I did not know that they were affected by my absence. My officemates noticed the emptiness and loneliness in me. I would by then eat, take a break and go home all alone. While I thought that I was taking my sweet revenge, it was actually I who was hurt the most. I was sad and down without them. I was so incomplete and had even a couple of sleepless nights crying. My heart wanted so much to reconcile already but my pride held me back from doing so. Until my officemates called Jehson and Efren to our area and had us reconciled. Words of apologies were softly yet wholeheartedly spoken. We shook hands and in the next few minutes we were again together, stronger, as if nothing happened.

Now, after almost eight years since we resigned from the company, I could say that we still remain the best of friends. We all have different lives now. Efren is now married and is trying to find success in Isabela. Jehson, is now a successful seaman traveling around the world earning millions of dollars. I, on the other hand, am working for a small accounting firm here in Cebu. With everything that is and will be happening to me, I would forever be grateful that I found these two great individuals whom I again, personally classify as special friends.

On his birthday, I texted him that I wish God grants everything that his heart desires. And he replied “Wow! Thx.hoping so much. Mao pa lng jud pglrga nmo gkan new york 2 west Africa 1port dn blik n sad dre us.rgardz ko dha. Hehehe”

He never fails to text me back whenever I text him whether he is in or out of the country. The latter depends of course if he is on land, I mean, not in the middle of the ocean. And this makes me feel I am someone special too.

Even if...

2008-05-17T14:43:00.000+08:00

The sun is perfect this morning. After many days of heavy rain, the sun has finally shown its beauty. I stood by the door and noticed that there was a puppy in the garage sniffing something I don’t know. Afar I can see our neighbors preparing for the laundry. I thought it must be tiresome to do laundry for clothes used for a week or so. Everything seems to be perfect except my heart.

I woke up with a heavy heart. The pain that this thing called love brings hits me again. People may not notice it because I can easily make a façade and try to look happy but deep inside I am actually hurting. I feel that my heart is squeezed and the squeezing pain makes it hard for to breathe. I was holding my tears from falling down because I don’t want the people in the house to know what I am really experiencing. I am trying to make everything appear okay so that they may not be able to acknowledge that I am broken. At least by doing this, I am not bothering other people for my foolishness.

I met W at the most unexpected place in the most unexpected time. I did not really expect that I would fall for this person. You see as I grow older, my standards have also matured in some ways. Before, physical appearance is the first priority. Of course, who would want to have a partner who is not attractive at all? But W’s impact to me is just different. W’s cheerfulness is so infectious that whenever I see that smile, my heart jumps in gladness. W’s text telling me to eat on time and sleep well is very flattering. I have never known someone before who would send me messages of concern even my parents. But don’t get me wrong. My parents are of course concerned of me, they are just not so expressive about it.

I was hoping actually that somehow we may reach to a certain level of relationship. I took all W’s words and actions so seriously. I was happy being with W even if I knew that W was just there as a friend and nothing more. The pain of not letting W know about my feeling is nothing compared with the joy that W’s mere presence brings. I know I am overly dramatic and OA but sorry I just can’t explain how exactly I was feeling every single time that I was with W.

And now that W’s gone, I mean not dead, I feel so alone and lonely. I feel that something important to me has been taken out of my system by force. I know that although W is just around the place, the fact that I won’t be able to look at the smiling face still brings tears to my eyes. The song of Jam Morales, Even If, perfectly describes what I feel right now about W.

Even If
Jam Morales

All those sleepless nights
All the tears I cried
All the pain I kept inside
I kept asking myself why
You had to say goodbye

Was it just a dream
When you said to me
That there is someone new in your life
You could have at least lied
The truth just scared me

Chorus:
Even if...
You mean the whole damn world to me
I can forget you, wait and see
I can be strong even without you
I can't waste my life forever
Hoping you'd come back to me
But deep inside I know
I'll be waiting here for you

(instrumental)

Even if...
You mean the whole damn world to me
I can forget you, wait and see
I can be strong even without you
I can't waste my life forever
Hoping you'd come back to me
But deep inside I know
I'll be waiting here for you

I have been keeping this feeling to myself for more than three months now. I know I am stupid not to let W know everything. I am happy and hurting at the same time. I don’t know really. But I can move on. I am in the process actually. This post is the start of that. I am letting go. I am letting go of my happiness for the best of everybody. Yet no matter how much pain I have felt, it was all worth it. There is one thing though that I need to tell W. “Remember me once in a while, please promise me you’ll try.”

Missing OJTs...

2008-05-15T13:17:00.000+08:00

My post today would be about our OJTs in the office. Regularly, our office accepts OJTs from the period March to May every year. Last year, I have only known 2 of the OJTs because we were late when we arrived from Victorias City. This time, we had 10 all from the University of San Carlos.

I was modestly insecure about them on a couple of things. First, because they were given an opportunity to have the training. In my time in college, although our program was a five-year course, we had never a program like that of an on the job training. What we had was a 9-unit Integrated Accounting subject where we invited prominent names in the field of accounting in Manila. But the problem however was they were not there on a regular basis. Most of the time, it was only us in the class. In other words, our time and money were simply spent for nothing. And for me, it was really nothing. I don’t even remember anything from that subject. In the case of our OJTs, thery are so lucky for even if they have not graduated yet, they already have an experience which they can boast in their resumes. They already know what it is working, dealing with other people, making reports and beating deadlines. If I had this in college, I would have been more prepared in applying for jobs after graduation.

Second thing I feel a little envious about is that they are still very young. I remember my old days and old friends when I was their age. I envy their innocence in some sense, their freedom and their overwhelming energy. Now that I aged a little, (give me some consolation here, okay? I am not really that old!), I feel that I need to focus more on my career and my life in the future. But I must say that I had enough being young. After all the state of happiness does not rely solely on time. We can be truly happy anytime.

When they were still here, the office became lighter. Lighter in the sense that they were so cheerful and laughing with them is totally a relief from the stressful work we do. Lighter also because they helped us with our work. This, I am so grateful for.

Gone, they were. The OJT-ship ended last week and it may sound corny but they left us half-empty. Suddenly there was no one around to help us out..Who would ask us what to do. Who would ask us something like they were our younger brothers and sisters. But that is what really life is all about. Some people may come and touch our lives and then leave. And then some other will come again. And the cycle continues. But the thing is every time, someone goes, there is always that little pain. Mingaw in the Cebuano dialect.

Mingawon jud mi ninyo Andy, Sanrio, Miguel, Kristine, Tani, DP, Melai, Jeannie, Ernst and Nicole! Thanks for everything! I hope you guys won’t forget me and the rest of us here when you become what you have been dreaming of.

In this light, let me quote Frederick Buechner. "There are all different kinds of voices calling you to all different kinds of work, and the challenge is to find out which is the voice of God rather than society or ego…. The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.”

Shodi tomilak! Keep in touch!

What if?

2008-05-13T15:05:00.000+08:00

I am about to turn 27 this year and I am not living the life I so long dreamed. This is the reality and it really hurts. Sometimes, it just pains to see other people, even younger than my age achieving their goals, and rejoicing over them. It even hurts me more because a lot of people are expecting that I would be SOMEBODY after graduation. And I feel like I am disappointing them.

In my mind, I know that my family believes that I would be the hope in alleviating them from the dungeons of poverty. They have high hopes that I would do well in the working world considering that I did well in school. But again, reality struck me. Fresh from graduation and equipped with confidence, I tried my luck here in Cebu and realized that I am not a star. I applied for companies and had my fair share of rejections. At first, it was hard to accept considering that I was one of the leading students in our school, modesty aside. But Cebu has its own treasures. It has its own galaxy of stars. And I simply pale in comparison.

Nonetheless, I did not lose hope. After I resigned from my first job, I took a crack at applying to different companies even if they were out of line with the degree I finished. I had really a hard time looking for a job because I felt that I was being blocklisted by the people of my previous company whom I have conflict with. There was even an instance where I was actually accepted already for an internal auditor position but after they called my previous office, suddenly they declined me for the vacancy. Honestly, I did what I think was good in my previous company. I was just being true to myself. I was just being fair. I was just protecting myself and my friends. I was only standing by my beliefs. But you can’t please everybody indeed! Some people in my previous office reacted negatively on the way I carried my job, on the way I speak my mind. Some believed me but it was too uncomfortable to continue living in an environment where people just wanted me to fall short. In another words, they wanted me and my friend out of the office. I left in total relief, so I thought.

I now work for an accounting firm also here in Cebu. At the beginning I had fun because I was assigned in Victorias City Negros Occidental. I was challenged by the volume of work the client was demanding from us. I may have spent sleepless nights just to finish the needed reports but I felt I have grown. Until, the client terminated our contract and eventually triggered for our transfer here in Cebu. The transition was a little bit awkward. I had new officemates and their presence was so intimidating at that time. I must say that first impressions don’t always last. My new officemates actually became real friends, and that is one thing I am grateful for.

And then something not so good happened.

That something, which I opted not to disclose here, made me realize that I am reaffirming the universal truth, if that’s what you call it, that history repeats itself. I felt again the gawky feeling that I don’t belong to the place again. After the resignation of most of the original staffs here, I felt that the office is half empty and until now that space has not been filled. When they left, I think that I was also left unprepared. Quite not safeguarded but definitely self-challenged. I was challenged that perhaps I would be able to stand up to their expectations and standards. That someday I would be like them, professionally first-rate.

And then that something happened.

I was lost. I have never been told by anyone something that can actually make my morale go down. I know in my heart that nobody deserves such kind. My ex-officemates told me that I should look for another haven, somewhere where I can truly be the best of myself. Somewhere where respect for each other prevails. Somewhere where I can be genuinely happy. And I think I would have to agree with them.

But here is the dilemma again. What if history repeats itself for the second time? What if I won’t be able to find another job? What if they would do the same thing that my previous employer did to me? I know, I am so paranoid but what if?

These thoughts make me really miserable. I don’t want to just end up like that. I have to achieve my dreams still. I have to help my family. I have to be happy. I have to live by the expectations of the people who believed in me. I am glad I am still sane to know that I don’t have to rush everything. I still believe in the power of prayer. I still believe that someday, I am gonna find my place. When would that happen? I just have to wait and pray.

Random thoughts...

2008-05-12T13:34:00.001+08:00

I am not in the mood to write something right now. My brain must have been enervated from yesterday’s activities. Noel and I had a very interesting escapade which I prefer not to publish it here. But here are some of the things I am thinking in this cold rainy morning.

…I didn’t actually like to report to work today. I was just tired. I felt I have not gained enough sleep. It was raining and the sound of the rains falling on our roof was a lullaby making me want to cuddle with my pillows more. Zzzzzz….

…I wasn’t able to greet my mother and my sisters on Mother’s Day. My phone battery was empty on a Saturday night and I unfortunately left my charger in the office. That means that I was off air the entire Sunday. I hope it’s not too late to say this. “Happy Mother’s Day to my Nanay, Manang Vilma, Mana Lynde and Ate Riza and to all the mothers”. This celebration is one way of saying thank you for everything. I may not be very vocal of what I feel about my mother, but deep inside I hope she feels how truly grateful I am for the things she had done and will do to me. Mingaw na nuon ko sa akong Nanay!

…Today is the birthday of LJR, the person behind the Lord in my name. LJR was a batch mate in high school who hails from Naval, Biliran. We had plenty of memorable experiences together. I experienced how it is to love and be loved in return because of this person. But since graduation, I have not seen LJR. I heard from another batch mate that LJR is already married and has two great kids. I was happy to at least know something about LJR. On this day, I wish all the best for LJR. Happiness, good health, peace in the family. I still want to see LJR though, but just as friends.

…I finally have something to do after this. My client just called that they needed a schedule of the travel expenses and the expenses incurred in their shows held abroad. Not really a mind-boggling task, but at least I would be able to flex these brain muscles, hand for that matter, of mine.

…I am currently listening to a list of sad, breaking up, moving on love songs on Imeem. It is a pretty nice playlist. It sets me in the mood to focus on my work.

:( Need to get back to work....

Just trying to be one...

2008-05-10T09:40:00.001+08:00

I was very apprehensive at first if I would continue making this blog. I don’t really have the writing prowess like that of Jessica Zafra, Girard and Nikki. I don’t even know if I would be able to finish this post. But I really love to write. I love to scribble every event that is happening in my life. And I want to read everything I write.

I have learned from a blogger that he started apprehensive too. He knew he can write but was never confident. He didn’t know if he would have readers. He didn’t know if his stories would come out interesting. Nevertheless, he believed that by continually writing about even anything would eventually enhance his writing skill. And it did. Now, as I read his recent posts, I can say that indeed he has improved a lot. He becomes an artistic write rather than just an ordinary one. He writes his stories in a very creative way that a reader cannot help but anticipates his next posts.

I want to be like him.

Although, blogging is like more of a personal thing for me, I want it to be worth-reading also. I initially just wanted to share my experiences with other people by making this blog. I just wanted to write things that interest me. But I had in mind that by doing so, I might as well try to the best I could to make my posts worth reading.

Honestly, when I was in college, I was less confident about being part of the school paper. I knew in my heart and in my mind that I was never trained to do something like writing. I was even a little ashamed of the articles I wrote. I know that I know correct basic English (thanks to my high school English teachers) but writing is totally a different story. It requires a creative mind to be able to come out with interesting topics. And I just don’t have that. I don’t know why Nikki invited me to join her in the school paper. She might have seen something in me. Having been invited, I thought that maybe I had a little chance indeed. In my four years in the school paper, I believe I have improved my writing. I may not be the greatest writer the school had, but I spent most of my happy days in college in the school paper. But that’s another story.

Anyway, I am reviving my spirit about writing because I really want to be a good one. I want to expand my vocabularies. I want to be creative. I want to share my ideas even the modest ones. I want to maximize everything that my brain is capable of doing. I want to be someone less than Jessica Zafra but greater than Cristy Fermin!

Another night of immorality...

2008-05-09T13:21:00.004+08:00

May 7, 2008, Gabby texted me that a grand opening night of a certain gaybar in Mandaue would be happening the next day. I was excited. I know that when it comes to things like this, I could never say no. I thought it must be really a big show because it coincided with the annual fiesta of the city. So the plan would be like this. Since I still have to report to work, I would have to go to his house, have dinner and head for the bar.

But the plan was amended when we knew that the opening would not push through. We then think of Mr. J, a restaurant along Sanciangco and Pelaez Sts. Philmar said that the place would not be conducive for people like Gabby and me because most people who go there are teenagers and he even said that it was cheap. Nevertheless, out of curiosity, we proceeded. The place is not like any other bars or restaurant that I have been to before. It was literally simple, and cheap. There was no entrance fee. The entire place was just secured by a wooden fence, which I think would be very easy to break when worse comes to worst. The entire space was divided into two. Near the entrance is the open area. By open, I mean, there was no roof. There were already a number of people drinking when we got there. The other part is the closed area. What else would I call the opposite of the open area? Right? Anyway, it was closed in its simplest sense because it had a roof and, walls. This area was dark. The only light that illuminated the whole area was the lamp near the DJ's desk. I could see that there were also a number of people sitting on the table, and they were mostly couples. And oh, I felt that something was happening in there. Something mysterious. Something illegal. Something gay.

We stayed for like an hour and drank a couple of beer to see if indeed there were dirtiness. We spotted some prospects, in fairness, but never got the chance to take them out. It was almost 10pm when we decided to go to Jane's Partner, a bar in Lapu-lapu City. As usual, we were just there sitting and joyfully staring at the display of male dancing on stage with barely a little cloth on their bodies. It's always a sight to behold. I don't know but seeing those heavenly creatures dancing with their threateningly huge birds always gives me an orgasm. Am I exaggerating?

After almost three hours, we decided to go back to Mr. J and hopefully would be able to take out our prospects. But alas, we found out that the bar was closed already. Dismayed by this fact, we headed to Juliana's and just ended the night, the dawn I mean, dancing.

Being with friends like Gabby and Jakim in adventures like this is always fun and, tiresome. We may have not successfully taken out our prospects, we still managed to take the night away. Next time, I will make sure nga dili na ko maglukdo ug kalabasa. Promise!!

The truth behind my name...

2008-05-08T15:45:00.000+08:00

I was wondering what to name this blog. It should be something unique. Something original. And of course something which has a story.

Lifamim Chalomot Mitgashmim is a Hebrew song which literally means Sometimes Dreams Come True. This song was performed by the winners of the Kokhav Nolad, Israel’s version of American Idol namely Harel Moyal, the champion, Harel Skaat, the first runner up and Adi Cohen, the second runner up. It was Dailou, my officemate who introduced me to this song, well singers. And since then, I have been crazy over them.

Hatikvah kvar aruzahbetoch kufsa v'rudah
vehakol nir'eh muzarbe'eretz lo nod'a
hagalgal shuv mistovevme'al masach ashan
veha'or hamehavhevzoher alai achshav.

Lif'amim chalomot mitgashmimlif'amim,
k'shehalev od tamim
lif'amim, beleil kayitz chamim
lif'amim chalomot mitgashmim.

Hash'vilim shemovilimle'eretz hachalom
niftachim umegalim et kol rig'ei hatom,
orot hak'rach dolkim achshav
bechol chadrei halev,
betoch tochi yesh hargashah
shel osher mitkarev.

Lif'amim chalomot mitgashmim...

Pirchei halev mitorerim bemilion tzva'im,
vehashamaim zoharim mul sha'ar hap'laim
od dakah bachashechah,vehamon kolot,
ulai achshav, ulai machar,akum el toch chalom.

Lif'amim chalomot mitgashmim...

Of the three, I was most amazed by Harel Skaat. He has such an excellent voice and a stunning star appeal. It was love at first sight, I must say. Although, I did not understand their songs, I make it a point to search on google to know what they were trying to convey. I may have twisted my tongue to sing their songs, but it was always fun.

So there.

My greatest pleasure...

2008-05-08T09:50:00.000+08:00

This would be my first entry for this blog and I am gonna talk about something I really love to do. Singing. Char! My family is not in any way musical although some of my siblings sing in church and play a little guitar. But that’s just it. Nothing very formal really.

Ever since I was a kid, I know I love music already. I would listen to the radio. I would hear my sisters and my other cousins sing and I would just sing along. I would write down lyrics of songs in a notebook. I even remember that I can memorize a song, both lyrics and melody in just a matter of hours. Could I be gifted like Lea Salonga? How I wish! When I was young I really thought I had a voice. My teachers in elementary would even want me to sing in school programs which I vehemently resisted. But had sang once though in one of the culmination program in the school.

In high school, I auditioned for a chorale competition. I had to sing the National Anthem based on the key given by the voice teacher. I did all my best but lost. The teacher told me that I was not out of key or tune but had to dismiss me because of my pitch. He said I had a female pitch. That means that I can’t sing male songs. I may be able to sing but with so much difficulty due to its high pitch. I was really puzzled. Could there be such a condition like that? But I do have a very big loud voice. How can it be?

Later, I realized that indeed, I can’t sing male songs. It is really hard for me. It would be either too low or too high for me. But who cares? I am no American Idol. I have all the right to sing whenever and wherever I like. Music lifts my spirit up. It keeps me cool. It soothes me. It makes me sleep. It makes me relax. I can’t live without it.

There are really some good songs that I can relate easily. Songs that can either make me cry or smile. Songs that can set me in the mood. I will be writing another article about these songs that really touch my heart.

Until then.