this is all about me

And I am having a swell time (uh, pun intended hehe) during this uber-long weekend. For a variety of reasons.

Here's one:

and P.S. i thought of this design myself (like with all my tatts):
my name in alibata/baybayin precolonial Philippine alphabet
destroyed by Spanish conquistadores in the 1500s in a
queered rainbow flag backdrop. :)

Evidence enough?

More soon. :)

Can't wait to heal :)

Owwwieee...

this is all about him

Ever had one of those moments where you couldn't decide if a scene you remember from your childhood is real or not, if that scene really did happen or not? I have. One of those scenes, one I actually like recalling, involves my lolo, or my grandfather, my father's father.

I remember a street in the province (his, in a town called Burgos somewhere in Pangasinan, where most of the Cantors came from, they say) and I remember a big, wooden house (a two-storey one where, if you look outside the higher windows, you can see the street down below) and like a true student of cinema, I remember this shot in a faded sepia tone. Just like the rest of my childhood.

A picture of a picture. That's me and my lolo,
in front of their house, where I grew up, in Quezon City.

I guess memories do fade like old photographs -- the colors fade out
layer by layer, edges are torn, creases are more pronounced.

In Burgos, people spoke in Ilocano, except for me. I remember being small, maybe as young as I was in the photo above. Somewhere between seven and nine, perhaps. Or even ten, who knows. I am 38 years old right now so scenes from decades ago could falter a bit when recalled. Like this one.

We went there riding a bus, maybe a good five or six hours away from Manila. It was just the two of us, but I don't remember the bus trip much. What I do remember, though, is when we got there, there were several kids who were curious of me, this mestiza from Manila, they said in both Ilocano and Tagalog. Since my Ilocano was limited to saying wen! (yes!) and Ania ti nagan mo? (What is your name? Did I even spell that right?), my conversation with these fellow kids, after this brief Ilocano exchange, remained in the level of smiles, head-jerking signals and hand gestures. As kids, we don't rely heavily on the currency of words, as the currency of gestures was enough for them to communicate that they wanted me to come with them, run with them towards a field where a huge and lone fruit-bearing tree was standing. It was duhat, that thumb-sized purple fruit that stains your shirt when its skin touches the cloth. I remember wearing light-colored clothes then, so I steered clear of the ones that fell on the ground, as my new-found temporary friends climbed up to pick more. I remember the brittle texture of the light brown-colored tree bark, and I remember zooming in on the huge red ants we call hantik, curious but at the same time afraid of them, for I think I have never seen ants as big as that, during that time (things in nature looked bigger and better in the provinces, as that usual impression goes here in this country, or maybe only in Manila). I remember the kids laughing, their eyes twinkling with each successful picking, and I remember laughing with them, looking up at them, wishing that I could show them how this Manila kid was also an expert in climbing trees, only I wouldn't because my lolo might call me anytime to leave. Plus that purple stain.

The adults were also curious of me, since it was rare for the province-based Cantors to meet the ones who migrated (and their respective families) long ago. I don't know why there was such a curiosity with my looks since I got this heritage from this side of the family anyway, since my lolo had Spanish blood in his family. But you know how Filipinos are generally receptive of non-brown skinned light-skinned entities. When I was born, people actually thought I was an American baby because of my hair and skin (plus my lola swears I had blue eyes initially, hmm). I remember sitting with them, being fed some kind of snack since it was merienda time, until my lolo said it was time for us to go.

Anyway, that was the scene, however brief, only snatches of shots remain in my mind now, like an old celluloid film already faded or discolored in parts. I'd like to believe that this scene from my childhood really existed, and that it's not a scene from someone else's story I just vividly conjured in my mind. Or worse, a scene from a film or TV show I saw that got etched on my brain as mine. You know these things happen sometime. But I want to be sure that the image is originally mine...for him.

Anyway, why am I writing about him? Lolo's birthday was last July 25. He was born in 1921, a good 90 years ago. Imagine that. And he just died, about nine hours ago. Hence this post.

He now joins my lola in heaven, in Canadian heaven perhaps (if ever there was also a migratory distinction of the afterlife that way -- or I'd like to invent it right now). They already migrated there since being petitioned by my tita back when I was still in second year at the university, I think, around 1992 or 1993 maybe. They've always wanted me to go there as well, to live there with them perhaps, since I am the firstborn Cantor grandchild in our family, and I also spent majority of my childhood growing up in lolo and lola's house (I was the proverbial lola's girl). Stubborn me, I wanted to find my own way into the world, without any sort of connection or help, and I knew that if I went there, I will be dependent on them at first, even though I know I will also make it on my own. But I decided to make it on my own here, in Manila.

Of course, as with living life, one thing led to another and before you know it, it was already 2000, and two days since that new year ushered in, my lola said goodbye. I never even had the chance of saying goodbye. Those days, I was already contemplating on trying my luck there in Ontario, maybe study again, or even just visit and see my lola again. But no such luck. I haven't even visited her grave yet, to this day.

We were taken aback by the sudden death of our lola, but with lolo, somehow, he kinda knew it was coming, and I think he communicated that with my two titas there. That's why my third tita went there to be with him before his last birthday, and good thing she's still there to see this through. I was supposed to go with her but financial and other personal constraints prevented me from doing that, like with my lola. Don't you just wish that money grew on trees, or that some people should move on from the past? Well...

But if these things didn't exist, I was still actually having a dilemma, if I actually wanted to go there and see him that way -- really old, ready to retire from life, a medical condition threatening to snatch him away from us any time. That's not how I remember him, or that's not how I want to remember him. Whichever.

This is how I still remember him:

taken in Intramuros in 2005 when
our Canadian family went here for a vacation

That dapper-looking ol' guy, with the beret (my curiosity with berets and hat-wearing/head gear actually came from him), whom people said was still good-looking even in his older age, that was why women were still drawn to him (and hmm, the Cantors in Pangasinan said that this is a very "Cantor trait" -- women being drawn to them; hmm, maybe I got that from him, too? Chos! But that's just me lightening things up).

My friends told me that still, it's better to see him alive, somehow, no matter the circumstance. I guess it's too late for that now, huh. Well...

I guess it's also good that undas or all soul's/all saints day is just around the corner. A good time to contemplate on things, on life, and death, but also on living. Like a good friend said when she called earlier, it's better to think of his life well lived and stuff, and not to focus on the loss or something like that. (You have to run this by me again girl, as my mind was choppy earlier. But again, thank you for calling. Means a lot.)

I guess that is true. It's not about sustaining a loss, but it's mostly about cherishing memories. Yeah, I guess that' a better way of coping. Now if somebody could only recommend something about the sadness that comes with the package... Well, I'll just deal with that later. All things pass, eventually. This, too.

I don't know how to end this post, so I'll just put an excerpt of a full-length film script I actually wrote a long time ago, based on my childhood. It was based on my life growing up in their house, and the characterization is not much of a stretch from reel to real.

Wherever you are lolo, this film is for you, and lola. I love you both. And thank you.

*

KALYE
(an excerpt)

SEQ. 3. INT. BAHAY NINA CHARI: SALA/KUSINA – UMAGA (cont’d.)

Malawak ang sala na kahilera ng kusina kung saan naroon ang malaking narra na 6-seater dining table. Halatang kakatapos lang mag-almusal ng mga tao sa hitsura ng mesa, na ang iba’y nakaupo pa rin doon. Nakaupo sa isang dulo ng mesa si LOLA, 60 years old, katamtaman ang tangkad pero medyo chubby ng kaunti, katamtaman ang kulay ng kutis, hindi mestisa o kayumanggi. Nakatingin siya sa TV sa sala habang nagkakape. Mapapanood sa TV ang balita tungkol sa mga nagra-rally sa Makati.

CHARI (older VO)
Ito ang Lola ko, ang nagsilbing second mom ko nung
lumalaki ako. First apo niya ako, kaya eto, Lola’s girl
ang kinalabasan. Spoiled pero na-outgrow ko naman iyon.
Matriarchal ang family namin dahil kay Lola – matapang,
Batanggenya kasi. Headstrong din siya at maabilidad
kahit hindi nakatungtong ng college. Mahal na mahal
ko ang Lola kong ‘yan. Siya lang kasi ang naabutan
kong Lola nang nagkamalay na ‘ko.

Tatayo sa upuan niya ang mestisuhing si LOLO, 62 years old, katamtaman ang tangkad at pangangatawan. Saglit siyang hihinto sa harap ng TV sa sala bago tuluyang lumabas ng pintuan.

CHARI (older VO)
Ito ang Lolo ko. Meek, mild-mannered, pero matinik sa
chicks! Noong kabataan daw niya, sa Pangasinan. Pero
ander naman sa Lola ko nang mag-asawa. Minsan naaawa
ako sa kanya, pero di ko alam kung bakit. Basta lang.
Mabait siya sa ‘kin kaya mahal ko siya. Pero parang
di siya mahal ng iba niyang anak minsan. Pero pakiramdam
ko lang ‘yun.

Ang mestisahing si CHARI, 11 years old na payat na batang babae, ay nakaupo sa sahig, titig na titig sa TV, umiinom ng Chocovim. Madadaanan siya ni Lolo palabas ng sala.

CHARI (older VO)
At ‘yan ako, nung 11 years old ako. Payatot, di tulad
ngayon, may cellulite na. Maikli pa rin ang buhok;
‘di yata ako nagpahaba talaga ng buhok. Bata pa ako,
medyo tomboyin na kasi ang dating ko – di ako mahilig
magpalda, laging naka-shorts, at malikot! Parang lalaki,
sabi nila. As if lalaki lang ang puwedeng maging
malikot, ‘no? Excuse me!

SEQ. 4. INT. TERRACE – UMAGA (cont’d.)

Si Lolo ay nakaupo sa kanyang rattan na rocking chair. May sinusulat siya sa ilang maliit na piraso ng papel.

CHARI (older VO)
'Yan ang hobby ni Lolo, ang mag-calculate para sa
jai alai. Sobrang di ko naiintindihan ‘yung
calculations niya, pero sobrang absorbed siya tuwing
gagawin niya iyan. Lawyer kasi by profession si Lolo,
pero parang di ko naman nakitang nag-practice siya nun.
Ang alam ko lang noon, pumapasok siya araw-araw sa
isang opisina sa Escolta.

Patakbong lalabas sa terrace si Chari at lalapit kay Lolo.

CHARI (sweet)
‘Lo, penge pong barya. Bib’li lang ako
ng chiz curls sa tindahan.

LOLO (mabait)
Ang aga-aga neneng, magmimiryenda ka na agad.
(sisigaw) Emma! Emma! Parine ka muna!

Ngingiti si Lolo habang tumatango. Hihinto siya sa pagsusulat at kukuha ng barya sa bulsa ng corduroy shorts niya. Aabutan niya si Chari ng tatlong piso.

CHARI (older VO)
Ewan lang kung may koneksyon ang pagiging lawyer niya
sa mga calculations niya, pero sige lang… Tuwing nananalo
naman siya sa jai alai, binabalatuan niya ako e hehehe.
Pero secret lang namin ito kasi ayaw niyang ipaalam
kay Lola na tumataya siya sa jai alai. Ewan ko rin
kung bakit…

Patakbong lalabas si Emma sa terrace.

EMMA
Apay, apong? [Bakit, Lolo?]

LOLO
O, samahan mo muna si Chari sa may tindahan, ha.

EMMA (kay Chari)
E ano ba’ng bibil-hin mo?

CHARI
Chiz curls!

EMMA
Eee sa may grocery la-ang meyron nun, apong!

LOLO
Ha’mo na. Sige, samahan mo na lang, ha.

Tuwang-tuwang tatakbo si Chari sa may gate. Bakas ang pagkabahala sa mukha ni Emma. Susunod siya kay Chari. Agad niyang hahabulin ang bata at hahawakan sa kamay. Sabay silang maglalakad palabas sa kalye.

(©1996, this revision ©2010)

this is not about her...for long

It's half past six in the evening here in rainless Marikina as I type this, and I'm just chilling before I go back to life.

But first, a few thoughts.

I had my living quarters cleaned early this morning which lasted about an hour after lunchtime. I asked my cleaning lady to be through this time, for it has been a while since my unit was thoroughly cleaned, as I have been traveling and working outside a lot these past two months. While she was about to finish, I stood at the doorway of my library and surveyed the layout of my living room, and thought of what I have been thinking of doing since last year -- rearrange furniture. I read somewhere that rearranging stuff once in a while in your home is a sort of feng shui thing, if you believe that things and spaces have the capacity to block or enhance the flow of good energy in your life. I do. I also believe that certain feelings and emotions get attached to things, and that these things might trigger an emotional state once you connect with them in one way or another.

I've stubbornly held on to this Boracay lamp I bought in 1998 because to me,
it symbolizes my foray into different aspects of independence during
that period in my life, as I was trying to establish myself a couple of years
after moving out of my parents' house, realizing that I could actually
have control over aspects of my life previously run by other people for me,
straddling between careers as I jumped from a familiar industry towards an unknown one
to try another artistic aspect I have yet to discover then (writing) and to face a challenge
I thought was so way out of my league (going to grad school to get my masters degree) ,
as well as discovering a facet of who I really am -- a woman-loving-woman -- and
trying to painstakingly reconstruct my soul after the first woman I loved shattered it.

I'd like to look at this lamp and secretly smile at myself
for having undergone all those obstacles -- and survived.
(photo taken January 2009)

It has always been easy for me to deal with such emotions and feelings attached to living spaces and things before, because I used to rent apartments and thus, after an emotional crisis in my life -- meaning a relationship break-up, what else -- the act of packing my things up, throwing some stuff away, and moving into a new space becomes a helpful and healthy cleansing ritual. I think I've done that about three or four times, I think, moving in connection with a break-up. But it gets tricky when there's no move left, meaning you bought your own house na, or in my case, condo unit. What happens then, if you decide to live with someone in your fixed space na, and then you break up?

The first one was easy. I didn't regret breaking up with that girl I was with when I first moved in my condo for good. Actually, living in became an issue for us because neither of us couldn't give up each other's home space for our own somewhat fixed reasons (we just ended up spending time, taking turns, in each other's homes). And that worked perfectly fine for me.

When I bought this space, it was really meant for me, and me alone. Now it's a matter of negotiation if I eventually find someone I want to share my life with, living space included. Well, such is the nature of women-loving-women relationships, after all -- this penchant for living in, sharing living quarters, sharing a life. I've been in several of those, and I can't say that they were all happy camper days. I guess being who I am and what I do, I also cherish the importance of a solitary space. (Not to mention that I also am trying to veer away from the clutches of Pinoy dyke homonormativity for now, but that's another blogpost.)

It's funny how I've been repacking and repacking my life in boxes for 10 years.
The second to the last time that I did that, in the middle of hauling out boxes
from the apartment to the van, I suddenly stopped and fucking teared up.
The constant moving has somehow affected me much as it has also healed me.

And the funny thing is, now that I finally own my home,
I miss those emotions connected with moving -- especially the healing part.
Weird, no? (photo taken January 2008)

I already wrote about reclaiming queer spaces before, and that was the immediate project I had upon my last break-up last year. It was really hard to shake off, dust off, sweep out all the energies of that past relationship I had from my condo, simply because most of those energies were actually positive. Funny how the turn of events made those energies tip to the other side of the scale. Yes, remember when I became allergic to sunsets or staying home during sunsets? I've dealt with that already and reclaimed that.

Today, as my cleaning lady was finishing up, I just decided to rearrange the furniture and stuff in my living room. It's no huge feat, actually -- I just rearranged where the couch will be and where the other stuff will be in relation to it. And surprisingly, this rearrangement felt better -- the space felt it expanded more, more sunlight was accommodated inside the unit, the breeze from the window flowed better, and it felt like some strange, heavy feeling suddenly let me go, like somebody's embrace letting go of its grip on me. I guess that was the last of the negative feelings still tucked in between my things here, and moving them around suddenly released them.

As for energies, I never had any (major) heavy feelings left here anyway, since after that break-up last year, some new (and reliable old) souls have temporarily graced and inhabited this living space of mine, somewhat etching their marks on the walls and floors, their laughter reverberating in the ceiling and echoing all over, and their genuine feeling of friendly connection painted my condo alive, once more. Not to mention that I was also lucky to find a kindred spirit that ignited a profound affection for me, bearing the package of love and care. It is her energies that have jumpstarted my being once again, when we were given time and space to physically share each other's essences and thoughts, and those energies somewhat lit up this living space of mine anew, like buying a new lamp and putting it on for the first time to enlighten a dark room. And even if we are not physically together anymore these days, that chance of igniting something was well worth it. Damn worth it. And I thank the universe for sending her to me during the time that I needed it, as she needed me, too, as we both theorized.

New decor I will hold on to. I hope its meaning never changes for me.
I somehow believe it won't. (photo taken April 2011)

And so, the last frontier of reconquering a space was only in cyberspace. Funny that, eh? Even that has to be conquered these days. Yes, I guess, whatever it takes. Since sometimes being a techie tests my patience, I just left my home wifi network name as is, the name which my ex gave. I've been meaning to do this seemingly stupidly simple chore, but I guess my not-so-techiness got the best of me, so I just left it. I just learned how to deal with it, ignored it each time I access the internet, because sometimes the network name reminds me of her. This really sounds so stupid but yes, I am that kind of a person which has lots of sensory triggers all over. But since I had this general cleaning stuff and it also meant disconnecting my cables here at home, I had no choice but to reconfigure this wifi set-up, name and all. And now, I've also reclaimed that space now.

Come to think of it, it's funny how people assign values to things, events, places and stuff in connection to their memories, eh? More so in connection with their feelings. I guess this is perfectly sane. This is why people hold on to things, even if sometimes it's already unnecessary to do so. But if that act of holding on gives us the feeling of being alive, then we shouldn't mess with it, I think -- as long as it's still within a healthy frame, I qualify. We all have our ways of coping and surviving. And now, I have shared with you some of mine.

Yes, this is indeed not about her, for long...because this is all about me now, me and other souls who are still there, who treat me better, who send me love/hugs/words of comfort from near or far. And to those who could use new thoughts about their own situations, I hope I was able to contribute even minutely, as this is for all of you as well.

This is for us.

It's all about balance, after all. I have it now. Somewhat.
(photo taken April 2011)

this is not about...those?

Hahaha whatever those are!

Just stumbled upon this photo on Facebook and I thought it was appropriate for something I recently learned.



Di ba wagi?

Stumbled upon a friend this week and she told me that there's still this rumor being circulated about me pala, which has been like a lingering/pestering pus of a wound that wouldn't heal. And no, the wound ain't mine, mind you. Apparently, it's someone else's -- the rumormonger's.

In a cast of characters where the stranger is a person I don't know and I haven't met, and the friend is, well, my friend, the rumor apparently goes like this:

Stranger: Hey, do you know Libay from ___?
(it varies how I am introduced)

Friend: Yes, why?

Stranger: Hm, apparently, ___ (rumormonger) said that
Libay stole ___'s (rumormonger's) girlfriend.

Friend: Really?

Cue laughter here.

You know, I actually pity people who spread rumors about themselves. Because frankly, I don't see this as an act of spreading a rumor about me. Because if you dissect this rumor very well, like in a formalist analysis type of shitz as we do in the academe, I don't end up as the "bad guy" here. Pramis! Haba pa ng hair ko, to have someone's girlfriend dump that someone for me!!! O di ba? Haba ng hair ko! Ako na! Hahaha!

Di ba, if we expound, isn't it funny to spread that:

a) You had a girlfriend stolen from you???

b) You had a girlfriend who wasn't interested enough in you that she apparently was willing to get stolen??? By whoever! Not just me. Di ba? Credit some free will naman here to your ex!

c) You're the type of person whose girlfriends are willing to leave you (i.e. get "stolen") for other people???

d) You're the type of person whose idea of coping from a heartbreak is to identify a villain outside of your body and pin your insecurities of being dumped on this villain? A.K.A. me!!! Me=villain. Well thank you for making me Lex Luthor, but you ain't exactly Superman material, honey. You're not even Robin (sidekick) material. I mean haller, no Justice League or League of Extraordinary whetevers would recruit you, because... oh yeah wait, some group will actually recruit you! Because, as people around us (a.k.a. our common friends) described you years ago (when I didn't know you yet), you're a psychic/energy vampire daw! They coined the term, not me ha. (I am actually envious that I didn't come up with that description!) I actually didn't know what that meant when I heard writer friends describe you as such, but it means pala that by merely standing beside you, you suck the energy out of people beside you, because that's how negative you are daw as a person. Imagine that! I heard that even before I met you, and I heard it again when I finally met you and became your friend. During that time, I still treated you as a friend so I just shrugged it off whenever I would hear that from someone, until I proved to myself that you're not merely an energy vampire, but you are a dementor personified. Harry and Hermione would love to wave their wands on you, dear. Tsk.

e) And worse, this girlfriend, the one you said I "stole" from you, left you in 2008!!! Check the calendar. It's 2011 na. And you still talk about this ex getting "stolen" in 2008, during 2011??? Jeeezus H. Christ!!! This is soooo last decade! Chos.

Hm but wait, let me see. During the time that you said I "stole" your girlfriend, I actually had a girlfriend back then in 2008. In fact, when 2008 entered, I was with this girl and then we broke it off during the latter half of the year (and as your ex told us, meaning me and her friends, you guys split during the first half of 2008, during the time I was with this girl whom I became girlfriends with since 2007). But in less than a month, I had another girlfriend who stayed with me for the rest of 2008 and past that year as well, until the latter part of 2010. But again, after a month, I met this wonderful girl naman and we had a really, really great and super-loving bond which spilled over to the new year of the new decade of 2011. Meaning I don't really have a problem in this department of finding girls or girls finding me. Meaning I don't have to steal someone's girl in order to have a girl. It's as clear as day, hey. Heheh.

Soooobrang haba ng hair ko, pare. Hahahaha!

So hmmmmmmm, ano na, teh??? I don't know about you anymore, since I stopped being your friend the moment you fabricated this lie about me, about this stealing thing. But geez, kawawa ka naman. I pity you. You still have this issue to this very day??? What have you been doing all these years? Jeezus.

Like that sign said, haters, fools, and idiots. Apparently, this rumormonger is all three -- rolled into one. Yeah, those people. Haters, fools and idiots. Tsk. Such a pity. Learn from this, folks, and try to abide by karma's rules. The truth of the matter is, the kind of energy you emit (negative/positive) will be the kind of energy you will attract. So take heed, because the universe always listens -- and keeps tabs.

illustration by robert alejandro, swiped from a friend's account on FB

There are soooooooo many things to do in this world, soooo many wonderful things to accomplish, sooooo many sights to see, sooooo many wonderful tasks to ignite. It's a shame that they focus on negativity alone. No wonder the universe ain't so kind to these people. Well, we all choose our paths. I'm just glad they're out of mine.

So again, to reiterate:



Talaga! AKO NA! Heheh.

Rock on, folks! :)

this is not about them

Them again? Yeah, them again. Deym agen. Damn again.

Sabi nga sa isang film thesis ng student ko, BAD MAMAW! BAD MAMAW! BAD MAMAW!

This is one heck of a week so far for me, in terms of personal communications, professional engagement tinkerings, and catastrophic revelations. Universe, the weekly quota is enough, okay? Just sayin'. So take it easy for the rest of the week and let the next one run, er, smoother?

It's again a hodgepodge of emotions but I'm glad that what comes out on top are the positive ones, notably from people I love who love me back, and from people whom I am supportive of because I can see that they are worth supporting.

Now what irks me are those who show support yet in reality, they are merely wolves in sheep's clothing. It has been revealed, yet again, to me, that this epic saga between good and evil, the one where I was cast unknowingly to be Princess Leia to a Darth Vader, is still running in production! And I thought this film was already canned and shelved? Strange to be pulled back in the limelight of a stage you thought was already dismantled. Hm. And interesting enough, the cast is growing, from Shylock to Hamlet to the village idiot, among other character archetypes joining in. Shakespearean tragedy na ito! To the epic levels!

Well, but more of the Hamlet types are in another aspect of my universe. I am so being killed by all this professional indecisiveness that I feel like flying out of one coop because of this. I'm just staying because of the money because they're good that way. But hey, I don't know. If the future money trees my friends and I planted will start growing soon, then that will really be such a killer forest. No need to linger on the valley of uncertainty.

swiped from van gogh is bipolar's post on fb

Ang cryptic ko, no? Hehe. Chos. This is what is called non-libelous writing. Mwa.ha.ha.ha. CHOS!

Wala, gusto ko lang maglabas. Lately, I find that there are just literally a handful of people I could really talk to who will give me honest to goodness answers and guides. And I'm glad one of these people are more actively engaged with me now, even if it's "merely" from a distance. Technology rocks in this manner. So yes, I am happy and glad about that one. As in really! :) And then, yes, this -- writing it out, whether in blogs or my personal journals. Or both.

Hmmm... so what do we do with the assholes? Well, I guess just leave them in the gutter of their lives because frankly speaking, I don't want to be dragged down by such small-minded thinking. I have better things to do with my life, even if they don't have anything better to do in theirs but malign you and spy on you. I guess that is how interesting my life is, that I become the subject of other people's scrutiny. Mga walang magawa, as we say in Filipino -- those who don't have anything to do. Well, maybe they're just envious, and I really don't get why. If there is one of the seven deadly sins that I don't really get, it's envy. I mean, I don't suffer from it so I don't get why some make me the subject of their suffering of it. You know? Hm. Labo.

Maybe because I do this:

swiped from a friend's account on fb as swiped from the site identified in the pic

Heh.heh. Dedma lang. And then, as with all the actions in my life, I just follow my life mantra taken from one of my favorite books, Louisa May Alcott's Little Women -- HOPE AND KEEP BUSY. Yun lang. :)

and the winner is...me! i...thank you! in a major major way. chos.
(somewhere in Davao / Sept2011 photo by superfriend M)

this is not about me

When it's rough, things come out....raw.


Fortify

when everything's made
to be broken
i just want you to know
who i am
- "iris," the googoo dolls

How do you build
a strong wall
that does not crumble
impenetrable
as of a fort
shielded from elements
that corrode?

You can't.

How do you live
in a deserted island
uncharted by friendships
unmapped by experience
whether intended or not?

You can't. You just can't.

So now,
how do you fortify
yourself
from the longing
and the absence?
How do you fortify
yourself
from the tangible distance
and the mental presence?

You don't. You just don't.

In the end,
the end of it all,
perhaps you're just
that comet
that never came
to pass.

- 10Oct2011Mon

lex parsimoniae, lex leaflens

I love Carl Sagan's novel CONTACT -- one of my favorite books of all time -- and when it became a film, I loved it even more because it starred my favorite love of all cinematic time, Jodie Foster. In both artworks, they mention Occam's Razor, which was some sort of theoretical rule of the universe which was said this way:

All things being equal,
the simplest explanation
tends to be the right one.

But a quick wikipedia visit debunked this, as the real words attributed to the theoretical dude who thought this up was this:

Entities must not be
multiplied beyond necessity.

Although I think it's the thinker/philosopher Bertrand Russell who interpreted it in his own way, who said it the best, as he said:

Whenever possible,
substitute constructions
out of known entities
for inferences
to unknown entities.

Wagi, di ba? Winner, yes? Wagi=winner. Yes, winner, wagi. Unknown entity -- that's what I want to be right now. TO BE ANONYMOUS. AN UNKNOWN ENTITY.

But to put it simply, this theorizing is merely some way of elucidating on the concept of the "economy of explanation" which is what lex parsimoniae means -- the law of parsimony.

In short, explain it to me simply, and gets ko na what the universe wants to explain to me without throwing me into a nebula of information. I'll tell you who I am and then you tell me that you have a bigger construct of who I am, without even you knowing me. Hah. Kaloka.

Okay lost ka na ba? All of this rationalizing/theorizing/hypothesizing was done because of an earlier fun yet thought-provoking conversation I had with a lezzie friend earlier over sms texting. Well, it started as fun but eventually, it gave me the intellectual shivers.


Picture this: Sunday morning, rainy Manila, me typing in my computer beside my picture window writing nook, mug of brewed coffee by my side. A text message beeps. I answer my cellphone. A text from a lez friend whom I haven't heard from in ages. Networking commences.

This friend initially wanted me to set up this friend of hers with someone. And of course, being in this lezzieverse we call the Philippines, referrals are the way to go to find dates, hook-ups and the like. So I said sure, what the hey, I'll ask around. We talked about that and a few other things, until she segued into asking how my own "story" was going, which she termed as "love on demand" or LoD as she brilliantly wrote about before (and P.S. I fucking love that article!). Took me a while to explain it, as I also had to ponder on the situation, really. For lack of a better way of articulating it, I just said that my LoD kind of went on a physical hiatus but an emotional bond is still there within the distance. And then, talk about finding me a date ensued and she volunteered to find me one, as all good lezzie friends do whenever they find out that you're technically single. Well, yeah, technically, I guess. Technically.

I stopped and pondered. Date? What, me? Again? Now? Hmmmm. Even if I'm not really into looking or dating these days -- since I'm really freaking busy with a lot of things in my professional life and well, there's really a deeper reason behind this, which relates to that LoD thingie up there, but I digress -- I got curious and told my friend to go ahead and find me one, so I said sure, what the hey, no harm in trying, har-har, go, whatevs. It's not like she's going to text people immediately and ask around, right?

Wrong. It turned out to be a lazy Sunday and she texted people in her network. And people in her network replied, asap. And guess what -- I didn't know that I had some sort of reputation going on here. And the funny thing is, I don't even know these people she was texting! But the funny thing is, they knew me. Or perhaps they think they know me, to be more exact, in the sparse explanation of things in this lezzieverse.

Anyway, it's all a matter of perception, as I found out why not many women have been approaching me or whatever, in that aspect, you know. All because it was explained to me in the simplest way possible today. As our conversation went like this:

SMS: Hirap mo palang hanapan ng date, teh! Nasu-spook mga tinatanong ko 'pag sinasabi ko profile mo.

I asked why women were spooked when they hear about me. What a strange curiosity. What on earth could be in my profile that could spook away people? I was like, huh, wtf???

And that was when the economy of explanation kicked in, as my friend replied:

SMS: 'Pag tinatanong ang name at sinabi ko, either they've heard of you or read you somewhere. Tsk tsk. Iba pala level mo ha. Teka ha, baka may single pa sa demigods, hanap pa ko hahaha!

So there. So thus, now I ask, who died and made me a demigod, a demigod which women don't want to hang out with, much more canoodle with? Geez. What a revelation this day is. It's giving me such an existential angst about my existence. As in, for real!!!

Goes to show why this city, this island, this country, this continent, might not be the good one for me to be queer. Again, yes, it is being reinforced, during a time when I'm not even contemplating about such things!!! What the frak, man. What the frak. Like a ball just came out of left field and hit me on the noggin, without rhyme or reason. Insert other "I'm clueless" cliches here.

Just because I've done a few things and have had my name all over the media at different points in time, I've become some sort of...I don't know. I don't even know what to call me. Or what to call this...this...this. This situation, this dilemma, this problem. What is this??? Qu'est-ce que c'est???

Is it a problem? Maybe. Because come to think of it, the last three women that made a significant dent in my orbit didn't know zilch about me before we started dating -- like what I basically did (all they knew was I'm in some sort of media work, and I also teach in a uni) and where and from when my queer advocacy stretched onto (if ever they actually had a working knowledge of Manila queer advocacy stuff going on, which they didn't). So thus, yeah, if people know me, who I am, what I have been doing as ____ (fill in the blanks, because I've been doing lots in my life for the past two decades!), then they shy away from me, just because I've been doing such things. Uh, since when did my other life activities impede on my (perceived or potential) love life? Frak. I never knew. Okay Alanis, cue your song here na: And who would have thought...it figures...

I'm stoned, dude. (Marikina April2011)

Geez, this is really giving me such an existential dilemma. The thought of existing and how people perceive you. You don't even project an image yet they have an image of you. Objects in the rearview mirror appear closer than they are. In my case, the car where the rearview mirror is attached has already sped away, just because they saw a speck of me in the reflection. A simple, simplified fucking speck. What. The. Frak.

Hmmm... I don't know what to make of it. I guess I should be flattered that people know me in some sort of, uh, way... But hell, does that mean that I am destined to not meet new people? Or to put it romcom-ically, am I destined to be alone? What a fucking comic book superhero existential dilemma. With great power comes great responsibility. Hello, me no Spiderman. Those destined to save the world are doomed to be alone. Hello, me no Superman or at least Clark Kent in Smallville. Geez.

(somewhere in Teacher's Vill, Aug2011)

I don't know, man. I don't really know. Want to hear your two cents worth about this, folks. Hell, make it two fucking pesos! Okay inflation rates: make it two dollars of whatever denomination -- dollars, euros, whatevs!!! Kebs!!! Just make contact; if not, it's an awful waste of space. (Yes, that, too, is from Contact, one of my favorite quotes there; I am such a fucking geek, man. So sue me.).

Haaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy... weird.

Can I just reduce it to one sentence? Out of frustration? The Philippine lezzieverse sucks right now. There.

Merde. I need a drink.

Or maybe a trip up north?
North of the country?
Or global north?
(Baguio, April2011 photo by superfriend L)

Sing with me, Seal.

In a world full of people
only some want to fly
Isn't that crazy...

Yes, indeed. It is.

and just like that...

...September is gone, with one snap.

*snap!*

Time flies when you're having fun, busy with things, and trying to evade this thing called longing. Or something.

But still, amidst the whirlwind of work stuff/stress inducers/idiot quotas/facepalm moments/comfort food indulgences/mega-laugh trips/escapism via smoke-drink vices, we overdose from positivity -- especially sweetness, whether from artificial means or from persons who mean a lot to you.

fumo-froyo in Eastwood
[Sept2011 photo snapped by the
Golden Spoon dude who gave free samples hehe]

La vita e bella, indeed. Also having la dolce vita as well. Indulge.

P.S. Okay fine, so maybe it's just one person for me, for now. Hey, I miss you.

So there.

*

I've been feeling better lately. Since it's the first day of a new month, I am currently parking my butt here at home, since it's also raining again here in Metro Manila. Signal number one as we speak. So I hole in.

September has come and gone but it left me a lot of realizations about lots of things -- about life, about family, about career choices and which professional things/paths/routes to choose (from), and of course about love. I have yet to sit down and write all these realizations down, but sometimes, I also don't want to do that, simply because when I write things down, it's like they have some sort of finality kind of tone to them, as if writing thoughts and experiences down make them more real, more tangible, or something like that. Am I crazy in thinking that way? Hmm no, maybe not. And this is why sometimes writers don't write.

But no, we still *do* write. In bits and pieces, snippets here and there. I still can't wait to hibernate and pour all of these thoughts down, uninterrupted. I think this month will give me that chance... unless I start running around again, to catch up on other things, like money. Hm, if only money grew on trees, eh? Then we wouldn't have any problem with anything, or most things maybe.

Oh well, I'm just babbling. Anyway...

Still, the bottomline has always been the major "battle cry" of the year for me: LIFE IS SHORT! And with that one death last month, I was able to helm one article to somehow "objectify" some subjective thoughts in my head. Here, read my tribute article to queer blogger AJ at POC:

Um-offline na si Bakla: AJ and online LGBTQ activism

But like those of us who stumbled upon blogging in the early 2000s, AJ’s space served as an online journal full of personal posts that cover selected goings-on in his life. Of course as an LGBTQ, what attracts fellow LGBTQs to such personal spaces full of often-revealing stories is reading about how the queer heart works, the concerns about living as a queer, and the deep-slash-shallow-slash-witty musings of queers. Most of all, we queers are interested to see how our fellow queers deal with matters of the heart enveloped by SOGI issues.

Read the full article here.

When I find more time to write this month, I will be populating my blogs with more thoughts. I really need to spill them out na, like now na!

Plus I'm also excited to share this latest project I'm wrapping up this weekend to you guys. It's also giving me a new set of goals and possible directions to pursue, actually. So I am glad that this project happened, despite some setbacks. But hey, all projects have setbacks naman, e. So... take everything in lang. Di ba?

Yeh.

Again, life's too short to dilly-dally. So go out there and LIVE!