Platonic, He Says

PLATONIC MY ASS.

Brain Candy, Part Deux

Death Note
(1 Season - Currently Airing : 10 Episodes)


To anyone else, acquiring the power to kill at a whim might initially seem enthralling, and, falling back to reality, immediately terrifying. But to Light Yagami, who feels a burning need to deal his brand of justice to the world, it would have been close to heresy if such power was left untapped. When he picked up the Death Note dropped by the shinigami Ryuk and started causing criminals worldwide to die by heart attack, this need -- which was already bordering on megalomania -- found exactly what it wanted to feed on.

Suffice it to say this "phenomenon" did not go unnoticed, and that's precisely how Light planned his vision to unfold. Soon enough, the public dubbed this mysterious force as "Kira" (derived from Killer), and unsurprisingly, the crime rates from all parts of the globe began dwindling.

While most people worldwide thought this was a good thing, not everyone -- especially not the International Criminal Police Organization, or ICPO -- had the opinion that killing off criminals above their sentence was a good way of dispensing justice. It is at this point that they decided to hire the services of an enigmatic but extremely intelligent investigator known only as "L" to find out who Kira is. And true to his reputation, L was already a step ahead from the ICPO as he wasted no time in making his presence known to Kira.

The mind traps both Light and L set up for each other are clever, complex, and oft times coldly cruel. "Each person is searching for an adversary whose identity is a complete mystery, and the first to be found will die." Ryuk was right when he said humans are infinitely interesting creatures.


Bleach
(106 Episodes - Currently Airing)


I'm not even sure how to begin describing this behemoth. Basta, ever since I started watching it, isa lang masasabi ko:

ASTEEEEEEEEEEEG.

Brain Candy, Part Un

For the purpose of getting things down on paper -- or binary code, at least -- I will be listing down the different anime series I am currently watching. This is not an attempt at writing a review. I will be leaving that to the people who know better (or claim to). I am doing this partly for my benefit, because I have a feeling I might forget I ever liked them if I don't list them down somewhere; and partly for my friends, so I can at least get them interested in things that get my heart a-tingle. It's no fun getting all worked up and excited over a new episode by myself. Hehehe. So in no particular order, my current brain candy:


xxxHOLiC
(1 Season : 24 Episodes : 1 Movie)


Kimihiro Watanuki has been haunted by different kinds of spirits for as long as he can remember. It would have been OK if the spirits leave him alone, but such is their attraction to Watanuki's presence that they are almost always latching onto every free part of the poor kid's body without giving him a moment's rest. That is, until Watanuki stumbled upon a strange looking house owned by an equally strange looking woman who introduced herself as Yuuko Ichihara, or the Dimensional Witch.

Yuuko explained to Watanuki that their meeting was not out of coincidence -- for coincidences are merely illusions -- but rather, it was because of Hitsuzen, or Inevitability. And since Watanuki was led into Yuuko's "shop," it must mean he has a wish he needs fulfilled. However -- and this was something Yuuko was very particular about -- although she has the power to grant any wish a person may desire, it naturally has to be exchanged with something of equal value. The Universe will, after all, indiscriminately carve out a path to preserve its balance whenever that balance is disrupted by any means, magical or otherwise.

Of course initally, Watanuki was skeptical -- which was a little odd for someone who was constantly being mauled by spirits of all shapes, sizes, and alignment -- but eventually, the desire to have his deepest wish fulfilled won out, so he finally agreed to Yuuko's terms. Yuuko then told Watanuki that she will release him from the curse of his blood, but in return, he will be working part-time for Yuuko as her servant. Watanuki was not too happy with Yuuko's proposal to say the least, especially when she told him that she will lift his curse after she decides to release Watanuki from her employ.

But for all of Yuuko's eccentricities, Watanuki was able to learn a lot and value all the strange, wonderful, and sometimes even scary things which Yuuko has opened for him. From the rich territories of Japanese mythology, to complex mysteries, and even delving into the realm of the metaphysical, xxxHOLiC is a series almost dark in its telling, but insightful and humorous at its core.


TSUBASA CHRoNiCLE
(2 Seasons : 56 Episodes : 1 Movie)


Syaoran and Sakura move as the epicenter of the entire CLAMP Universe in TSUBASA CHRoNiCLE. Although not quite the same as the kids who gathered the mysterious Clow Cards from the Cardcaptor Sakura series, the Syaoran and Sakura of TC are just as pure, innocent, and driven to do good wherever parallel universe they are taken to. Together with the strong and perceptive swordsman Kurogane, the mysterious sorcerer Fye, and the eternally kawaii Mokona Modoki, they traverse through different dimensions in search of Sakura's memory feathers.

Essentially a love story, TC is at first taste tragic when Syaoran asks help from Yuuko, the Dimensional Witch, in order to restore Sakura's memory feathers. Yuuko agrees to this wish, but naturally demands something of equal value as payment -- in the form of Sakura's memories of Syaoran. To put it simply, even if Sakura regains all of her memory feathers, she will not remember Syaoran or her special relationship with him. But despite the cruelty of Yuuko's terms -- and Syaoran being who he is -- he still agrees to the Witch's proposal, and in turn receives from her the power to travel across dimensions through Mokona Modoki.

Suffice it to say, this series is the mother of all crossovers within the magically diverse world of CLAMP. Although it is not an absolute requisite in enjoying TC, being familiar with most of the other CLAMP titles adds to the excitement and element of surprise when encountering a character from another series making an appearance in an episode -- or even an entire story arc. For the most part, TC delivers emotions both bittersweet and hopeful, and, as with most of the other works by CLAMP, promises a story of magic and intricately beautiful detail.


NEXT: Death Note and Bleach.

The Million-Faerie Massacre

Every Christmas season, the Ayala Malls have weekend fireworks exhibitions which never fail to enthrall anyone who happen to be in the area. Apart from that, the whole Makati CBD becomes adorned with beautiful Christmas lights, it almost feels like walking into Lothlorien (or Lothlorietta, as Ly puts it), sans elves and little flying things.

Last night however -- and one can not be sure what caused this thought train to leave its tracks -- there was a sense of foreboding evil lingering about the luminescent paradise. Ly, Hono'o-chan, and myself were not aware of it at first. Perhaps it was the oddly-placed globe-shaped fountain in the middle of the park in front of 6750, or maybe it was the old woman selling cigarettes perched on the stairs near Mercury Drug. But the moment we saw the first few fireworks go off in the middle of the deepening dark December evening sky, we heard it. Cries for freedom and a multitude of tiny voices screaming for release!

Had we a camera with us, the grim scene would have looked like this:


Suddenly, the globe-shaped fountain was no longer what it was. The glow from inside was actually an imprisoned faerie, desperately clinging for dear life! The old woman was no longer a common cigarette vendor, but a fairy matriarch, miserably watching her kin die from the evil machinations constructed by greedy corporations! The security guards were no longer actual human beings, but animated corpses controlled by talismans hidden amongst their bodies, enchanted by witches and warlocks from their secret base in the underground parking lots!

Ayala was no longer a Christmas paradise. It was a carefully-constructed and elaborate faerie torture chamber, disguised as malls and parks and the second happiest place on earth! Any faerie who survives the fireworks death trap is completely eliminated by specially-trained snipers, their magickal essence added to the breeding of other faeries and pixies, or sometimes bottled and sold in Rustan's as beauty products! Oh, the humanity!

Seven Songs

Of COURSE there are still aspects in my life completely drama-free. Like my lovey-dovey, for instance. And I owe him an apology for responding to his meme tag this late in the game. Seventeen days late, to be exact. I'll make it up to you, baby. :-P

•••
List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your journal along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they're listening to. [Podi's Aside: And since I think it's boring if I just list seven songs, I'll include some lines from them too.]

Shikao Suga - 19sai
"You laced your lips with poison when you came into my room, didn't you?"

Kajiura Yuki - Witch
(One of the beautiful instrumental pieces used in the anime series Tsubasa Chronicle.)

Jewel - 1,000 Miles Away
"Your mind says, 'Sweetheart, you gotta stick around,' but your heart says, 'Oh, I'm too weak in the knees...'"

Damien Rice - Grey Room
"Nothing is lost, it's just frozen in frost. It's opening time and there's no one in line, but I've still got me to be your open door. I’ve still got me to be your sandy shore. I’ve still got me to cross your bridge in this storm. And I’ve still got me to keep you warm."

Idina Menzel & Kristin Chenoweth - Defying Gravity
"Too long I've been afraid of losing love -- I guess I've lost. Well, if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost."

Rent OST - Without You
"The mind churns, the heart yearns, the tears dry without you. Life goes on but I'm gone, 'cause I die without you."

Kim Fabros - Sea
"Your body clings to me like waves flowing before sunrise. I am a fish satisfied, swimming in your mouth. Closed eyes. You are my sea."

Tagging: Aimee, Elmer, Gaye, Hono'o-chan, Mikey, Paul, Prinz.

When Fine Is Better Than Happy

January. That's a laugh. As long as the cosmos doesn't throw something completely unexpected on my lap, I might not have the inclination to go back to work at all. A friend and I were talking about it a week ago. I told him I had no such desire to "enrich" myself further. The second I said it however, I realized how jaded that must have sounded, so I told him it wasn't at all because I was jaded. Rather, it felt as if I've had my fill with what life has to teach me. (Apologies if it reeked of pompous arrogance...)

But it was my mother, unexpectedly, who finally jolted my sensibilities. This morning as I was rummaging the ref for leftovers, she asked me when I was going to have my hair cut. I said not soon. Then she asked me if I inquired about that Open University thing yet. I said not yet. Soon. Then she told me when my siblings have their own jobs, they won't be taking care of me, and did I know that. I said yes, I know.

A few more seconds of rearranging food in each compartment and I had to give up. I closed the ref and looked at my mother doing the laundry. She was beautiful, and I love her dearly. She'd raised a fine son, and I wanted to tell her I'm fine and I'm content with what I have -- and am -- now.

Now most of the times I underestimate her, but the thing is I know she'd know right away what I was saying. I could tell her I'm contented. I could tell her I'm fine. But she'd see through the lie, I know it in my heart. She'd know what I was saying was really, I want to quit while I'm ahead.

If I had the guts, I would have told her I'm sorry, but I have no ambition to drive me further. I have no dreams to cling to, and I have no idea when I stopped dreaming. I go through life drifting through the energy of the people around me but that's it. I am, and always have been, the cosmos' ragdoll. Free to be thrown around to whatever corner of the universe it sees fit. I'm not happy -- I realize it comes at a higher cost than I'm willing to dish out -- but I'm not sad either. Right now, I'm just fine. Exhausted, but fine. And I wanted to die.

I opened the ref again to resume my eternal quest for morning nourishment. Nope. I wouldn't say something like that to my mother.

When Words Fail

(Y!M Conversation, 11/18/2006 10:44:50 AM)

havelock maeterlinck (hindi tunay na pangalan): hindi ko kinaya
havelock maeterlinck: after that very inspirational first post
havelock maeterlinck: tignan mo sumunod

A Different Kind of Silence

I could never get used to it, walking into a room with only my father in. The pressure in the air would rapidly build up almost to the point of breaking with words left unsaid, left hanging through the years. If we were both any younger, we would have simply let all hell break loose. But after too many times of shame and regret boiling over in endless shouting matches, our father-son relationship had nowhere else to go but deep-dive into silent neutral corners on both sides of the battlefield. It was better off for everyone in the family, really. And that's the way things have been for the past couple of years or so.

When are you going back to work? I could almost hear him think. January, my head hummed a ready answer. I would be lying through my teeth if I said it, but it wouldn't matter as long as I had a response. I had just gone down for breakfast and he was by himself in the kitchen, smoking his morning cigarette and reading the day's paper. It could have been picture perfect, with the sun streaming through the windows and all that shit. Who could have known there was a thick silence real and alive as a monster breathing in that room.

"May sinangag pa dyan. Saka yung tira kagabi," ("There's rice. And some leftovers from last night,") he said, breaking the silence without looking up from his papers. I grunted an affirmative, regarded the table and confirmed that yes, there was indeed sinangag plus a bowl of reheated leftovers from last night, and left the kitchen without getting anything to eat.

Little Victories

Got home yesterday 5:00 PM after spending Sunday night at a friend's place somewhere down south. Was there for her daughter's birthday party -- which had a very odd turnout because most of the guests were grown-ups, and there were more alcohol present than a Saturday night open bar. Not that anyone dared complain, and the little girl seemed to have the best time among everyone present.

I enjoyed being there myself because of a couple of little victories I can be proud of ever since resigning from work:

First, I was able to commute from Makati to Sucat all by my lonesome without much of a fuss. I didn't even pay for the bus ride! The conductor apparently doesn't have change for P20, so he just asked for me to wait. We were already in front of SM Bicutan and I needed to get off the bus, but the conductor didn't make a move to stop me. So I stepped out with the crumpled P20 bill in my sweaty hand, free from any obligations. I took it as a good sign.

Second, I was able to sit through -- and quite possibly even enjoy -- the company of straight guys and their booze-induced conversations which, to be honest, more often than not I find too... rugged for me. Never mind that most of them were hot as fuck and I was willing to listen to even the most senseless man-drivel they get themselves into; they actually talked about pretty sensible stuff and -- surprise surprise -- things I found myself wanting to talk about as well.

For instance, some of them were unemployed, and I was like, Hallelujah, I am with kindred spirits! Most of my other friends either had a stable job, or are earning money in some way, or studying, or at least have an ambition to drive them -- I don't even have that -- and there I was with these guys talking about what it was like! The peaks and valleys and the jagged edges of our non-lives brewed and stewed in alcohol, sisig, and friendly banter. The best thing about it was they knew I was gay (unintentionally, and involving one little incident with a hotdog), and it didn't even bother them one bit. Or if it did, it wasn't at all apparent, which I appreciated muchly.

Anyway, the party mellowed down around 4:00 AM when people started going home. My friend insisted me and another friend stay over, and because we had no more energy to decline, we did. 10-ish we woke up, had lunch on leftovers, and watched a couple of DVDs before finally heading home.

On the bus ride, I was thinking how great it would have been if the only things I lived for were little victories and the company of friends. It would have been -- should have been -- enough. After all I'm doing fine, all things considered. But, well, I'm not there yet I suppose. The bus was careening on the highway barely stopping, and it seemed apt to pray for the universe to be patient with me. So I crossed my fingers, and I did.






____________________
PS: Damien Rice's new songs kept me company on the ride home. His music makes me weak in the knees. Well I held you like a lover // Happy hands and your elbow in the appropriate place // And we ignored our others, happy plans // For that delicate look upon your face // Our bodies moved and hardened // Hurting parts of your garden // with no room for a pardon // In a place where no one knows what we have done.

By The Window

Is there something beyond that grey wall outside your window, Podi? There used to be. Some time ago, there used to be a different house outside your window. It wasn't as tall and imposing as the one now, and it looked very old and very tired. But it was a house you and your window used to be able to talk to. It was a house you and your window used to love.

You and your window loved the same things -- the electric blue sky on many summer noons of your childhood, and the thick white clouds swirling lazily around it, like a living canopy holding an entire civilization of winged beings across the heavens. You used to tell each other stories what it would be like to live there, if it were any different from the world you're living in, or if it were the same.

You both loved how the same sky glimmered with stars at night, and how the Moon would rule over all, like a wise and ancient Matriarch watching its children in sacred slumber. You would both say good night at a different star each evening, and read to it a different book before you let it lull you to a dreamless sleep.

And there were the cats that lived in the broken, beaten-up black tire on the roof just outside your window. Getting home from school, you'd sit on the ledge and start talking with them (how familiar and comforting their smell would be to you), mewling and purring for minutes on end, telling them how your day went; how that one boy at school sat beside you in the library and asked about that book you were reading. The cats would sit in rapt attention, their faces in deep awe as if the secrets of the cosmos were about to be unlocked before their wide, mismatched, green/blue eyes. You wondered what the world would be like through a cat's eyes.

When it was raining, your windows would be watching you sketch. An elf, an angel, a fairy... but never finishing any of them. Always you would start out on the eyes, working your way through the face, then the hair (always long, always windswept), then the ears, down the neck, and then halfway through the body. By then it would be decided that you have fleshed out enough of this being's entire existence, and their half-life would be left undone on your sketchbook, their greyscale souls never fully realizing what it would be like to be alive.

Your window would be saddened at their tragic fate, and you would discover its ledges moistened with cold, cold tears. It was just the rainfall, you would think halfheartedly, and make a move to finally close it. Your wrists would strain on the friction of old wood dragging on old wood, but it was getting late, and the last thing you needed was to be awake, letting Mother Moon see how you made your window cry.

But now -- now, things were different. Waking up this morning, opening the window, I find that the old house was gone. The black tire with the cats was gone. The sky was no longer visible, and the winged people have flown to a different universe to haunt another alien boy's waking dreams. The ancient magic has left, and it took the love of my window for me along with it. There was nothing but a lifeless old wood, opening and closing to a grey wall with nothing beyond it.

It was infinitely silent, and there was no soul beating inside it, but I love it none the less. I rub the thick cake of sleep that managed to cling to my eyes during the evening, and stretch my senses awake. I sit on the ledge of my open window, and inhale the grey things of a new morning.

I will wait, I find myself thinking. My window has taught me something valuable, and that is there is always something to love. Even in this desolate grey, there is always something to love.

The Circle Is Open But Unbroken

Even if it only happens once a year, the deep and subtle magic of Samhain remains. And last night, Hono'o-chan has once again affirmed this for all of us who attended the gathering. The ritual was no less a wonderful experience -- even if it were more informal -- than last year's, and the feast was absolutely good both to see and taste. There were new friends to connect with, and old ones that were missed, and on each one's lips at the end of the evening were the words:

From my heart
to these hands
to your heart,
take all the love you need
and pass it on.
You would have loved it, R.

Memory Is My Pill

I have to commit what happened tonight to memory, and that is why I'm doing this now -- getting into the room -- before anything else.

No, nothing majorly major happened. As a matter of fact, I shouldn't really be making a big deal out of this. But for my sake, I WANT to make a big deal out of it, because I need to learn something from it. That's why here I am, now, writing about it before doing anything else.

OK. So, after going to the rather uneventful Komikon in UP Diliman (except of course seeing Carl again), a friend, whom we shall refer to as L, and I decided to have dinner at Katipunan while waiting for another friend of mine, V, whom I asked to accompany me to a friend's girlfriend's birthday party in Acropolis in Libis.

After much deliberation on how we can effectively budget our dwindling funds to buy us a filling yet inexpensive meal (bless the Greenwich counter girl who put up with our fickle-mindedness), we both decided on getting something light since I will be eating at the party, and L will be eating at home. Shortly after receiving our orders, V arrived and joined us for dinner as well. The party thing was supposed to start at 8:00 PM and it was already 7:30, but since I wanted to be as late as possible, I asked L to read my cards for me once again.

At first I promised myself not to ask anything about R, so I didn't. Instead I asked about work, and the cards said nothing conclusive about it. Oh, just that my life is currently very boring. (Like I needed a bunch of mean and stupid cards to tell it to my face, right. But anyway...) I also asked if I'll be dating someone soon and the cards said no (big surprise there). Upside is I'll be having sex with someone in the near future (about damn time).

And, after the inevitable fall of my already crumbling resolve into so much useless emotional gravel, I ended up asking about R. Suffice it to say, L was quite annoyed (because I have been talking about nothing else everytime we're together) and amused (because he enjoys seeing me suffer), but he read the cards anyway. Alas, once again, the cards told me what I already knew. That the things making me suffer are of my own creation.

With the usual groan of disappointment which I had been quite used to doing of late, I dismissed it as wise but nothing really new. It had no new help for my conviction to build something stronger on to aid my eternal battle against the cruel machinations of love and relationships.

After that short episode of me affirming my misery to the world once again, L and V moved on to more important and socially-relevant topics such as achieving that supermodel glamour through glutathione and diamond peel. I listened cluelessly but attentively, amusing myself with how excited the two were getting. It appeared the night will continue to be uneventful, but we all settled into a nice and complacent fine-we're-not-complaining mood for the rest of dinner.

But a-HA. The plot is yet to thicken. The universe wasn't quite through with me yet after all. At around 8:30-something, I told the guys it was already time for V and I to head for the party. The three of us stepped out of Greenwich into the cooling October evening air, with minimal hopes of the night getting any better -- or worse, for that matter. L said he needed to buy smokes before going home so we walked the short distance to a small sidewalk vendor, and there, in front of National Bookstore, I saw R walking towards the direction opposite us.

At first I thought it wasn't him. But second after leadened second, it slowly sunk into me that yes, the person several feet away from me was indeed R. He saw me. I was almost absolutely and positively sure that he saw me, but it only took an eighth of a second for him to avert his eyes and look as if he didn't see me, so it's still possible that he didn't.

But oh, how I felt the air in the distance between us tense so vividly as he inadvertently turned and headed inside National Bookstore for sanctuary. It was like stones dropping onto my hands, the way each of his footsteps fell -- so controlled and deliberate, from casual and nonchalant moments ago. And it paralysed me out of my wits.

My brain was trying to register something V said. "Oh God," I think it was. "Podi, it's R."

"I know," said a voice that was mine, only coming from a distant planet inside me. I gripped at V's shoulders and hid my face in shame.

L's tarot readings poured over my memory slowly like old wine, medicinal and intoxicating at the same time. The things making me suffer are of my own creation. And, hard as it was for me to swallow the simple and seemingly trivial statement, I had to accept the bitter truth in it.


Why is it true?

Alright Podi, listen up. You need to remember this, that's why you're writing down what happened tonight.

One: in Baguio, it was already made clear by R for you not to take him seriously because he cannot -- repeat, CANNOT -- be in a relationship. True, you were not able to accept this from him before, dismissing it as complete crap, but after talking with him about it -- yes, you TALKED, and don't deny it for the sake of drama -- you said you understood him and you accepted the cannot-ness of it all.

Two: he accepts you as a friend, and he says he cares for you, even going to the extent of saying he "loves" you (with the complementary "but not in that way" add-on), and once again, you ACCEPTED it. You admitted to yourself this is better than losing him completely. You said you cannot ever abandon him just because your, well, love for him is incongruent with his love for you. AND it is your firm belief that it is completely and utterly selfish of someone to abandon someone they love, whatever kind it may be.

Three: he is moving on with his life. AND it is entirely possible that he is seeing other people too. As a matter of fact he is! He told you so himself, right? Of course, with his usual disclaimer being that he doesn't see the person "in that way," or he "cannot be in a relationship." Still you get jealous, sure, but by what cosmic right do you have to harbor such a destructive, dark emotion? Because you love him? Fine. F I N E. We're past that. You love him. You made the decision to do so, and everything was right with the world.

HOWEVER, while the universe agrees that it is in perfect harmony with nature to love someone as fiercely as you do, it does not mean you will stagnantly burn yourself with the intensity of such love for the rest of your sorry, sad life. MOVE ON, PARE. It is still possible to love someone completely, and yourself at the same time! Despite its endless complexities, pure love is undoubtedly boundless!

Look, if you don't believe me, then believe in Sailor Moon. Remember that episode in PGSM when Usagi saw Mamoru and his then girlfriend, whatserface, lying unconscious because of another youma attack? It nearly broke your heart when you saw Mamoru's hands gripping whatserface's own! Poor Usagi-chan, she must be dying inside! BUT NO. Instead, Usagi... smiled. A gentle smile. And I'm not bullshitting here, but it really was the kind of smile that would wrap itself around your little heart like a warm, little blanket, and you never ever want to leave. It was that kind of smile. Anyway, she knelt before them and said, "Loving someone... that's something good isn't it?" And she, with her own as yet unawakened power, healed the two completely.


And it killed you. The concept of a love so limitless, so boundless as someone only Usagi could have afforded to feel crushed you to a million little pieces. No, she did not telekinetically smash a hundred wooden chairs into Mamo-chan's body. And no, she did not impale whatserface endlessly with an array of iron spikes and jam the Moon Sceptre up her ass for good measure, all in a torrent of rage and jealousy. But because she is Sailor Moon, she accepted the love the two felt for each other and used that love to heal them both. That is her power -- limitless, boundless love.

Now the point of the whole story is this. You love R, Podi. But please, for the sake of all that is good on this Earth, do not burn because of it. ACCEPT IT. Be happy that you have achieved the victory of falling in love with someone. In this sick, sad, crazy world we live in, love has been mutated and mutilated an infinite number of times, it's hard to tell what is true and what is not anymore. But you -- YOU know this is love. Draw strength from it, and live your life knowing that you have achieved this victory.

As for R not loving you back, well, in the end, does it really matter? It could hurt, yes, but before being reactive about it, try to understand where the hurt is really coming from. Once you understand it, you will realize that the point is you're happy when he's happy. And when he's happy, nothing else really matters much, right?

So be happy for R, and go on living your life. After all, despite all the things you've gone through, and despite the situation you are in now, you, of all people, deserve to be happy too.

Blogger Beta Madness

Alright, so although I'm excited for the new Blogger, it's going to give me a hell lot of new things to work on. First off, I need to study the new layout system and get the codes done right so I can make a new one for myself. Next, I need to flex my coding fingers once again, since I might have forgotten how to do Dreamweaver magic. Finally -- and this one I'm not really looking forward to -- I might have to tag all of my blog posts from the beginning. Yup, all 400++ entries.

Nevertheless I'm still kind of excited. I think this is a worthwhile project for myself, at least until I can get something that actually pays. LOL. Till then, no rest for the wicked. :-)

PS: I'll be working on Hemlock's story at the same time. To be honest, drawing out this little fantasy life of mine seems natural for me -- in the sense that it flows effortlessly from my fingers directly onto the keyboard. I like the feeling I get shaping each rise and trough of his life on the Silk Road. Very therapeutic to say the least. :-)

My Name Is Hemlock

hemlock, on the crossing of huang he
I am Hemlock. Or rather, that was the name I was given when I was taken in by the White Caravan, an acting troupe from the city of Chang’an. My life before then is unknown to me, and it is a life I think I would rather leave shadowed.

It was on the deathbed of Master He Xiao Tian, the leader of the White Caravan, where he relayed to me the events that happened nine years ago, the night I was taken in by the troupe. Their caravan was crossing Hohyeosi Mountain on the way to Hotan for a performance requested by the Emperor himself. Master He Xiao Tian said he found my unconscious body beside a fallen tree near their camp.

“Deep wounds marred every inch of your flesh, but none as deep as the wounds on your back,” he said grimly. And although I was shivering uncontrollably, and my consciousness was ready to cross The Veil, the Master was surprised to feel a distant roaring in my spirit fighting to keep alive.

It must have taken some time before his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the forest, but it was only after he has gathered my small, crumpled form into his arms that he noticed a disturbing sight. He said the whole clearing was suddenly awash in gentle phosphorescence, and there on the forest floor were five white tigers -- their furs almost glowing in the half-light. Each one still, each one unmoving, and each one undoubtedly dead.

One tiger had eyes staring up at the heavens, its menacing jaws wide open -- a portrait of unbridled anger and agony, compounded only by the shards of crystal (or was it ice?) protruding from its abdomen. Another form had the same kind of shards emerging from different parts of its body, but the head of this one was firmly spiked to the ground. Its eyes were closed, and an expression of shame and defeat crossed its face. The other three looked as if they were only sleeping, that is, if it were not for the swath of burnt flesh traveling the sides of their body.

The Master was careful not to disturb any of the carcasses as he stepped away from the clearing. He moved quickly but silently, intent on leaving the stench of death haunting the area. Whispering what little he knew of the arcane incantations he has learnt during their travels, he tried to find his way back to the camp. But no matter how fast he kept his pace, it seemed that the shadows were deepening even further with every step he takes.

It wasn't long before he heard a low, velveteen growl. He wasn't sure which side of the forest it came from, or if he were simply imagining it, but it did not deter his will from making it out of the forest. He checked the cooling, unmoving form he was holding for breath, and after being satisfied that I was indeed still alive, he closed his eyes tight and made a final mad dash into the direction of the light.

(... to be continued...)

No Wonder I'm Single

I received an email today from OKCupid! -- one of those online matching sites I'd forgotten I registered with. The email alert said that someone sent me a message, so I decided to check it out. This was a surprise, since I rarely get any private messages (probably because of that scary mug), and as far as I know, OKCupid! doesn't have a lot of Filipino members.

Anyway, I logged in and read the new message -- an ordinary yet still pleasant, getting-to-know-you email -- and replied with an equally ordinary yet still pleasant i'm-fine-thanks-for-asking-how-about-you response. Before logging off though, I figured it wouldn't hurt if I try updating my profile. So I headed over to view my profile page, and I saw, within that little panel to the right side of the page, the be-all and end-all reasons why I am still single:


sad thing is, it's all true
I mean, who doesn't believe in the Internet these days?! Besides, who can beat an FAQ like theirs? Or an FAAAQ page, for that matter.

Sigh. I love teh Internet. Now, to anyone who says being kinky is a bad thing, die. :-)

A Decision One Makes

All week, I've been thinking if love is a decision one makes, or if one finds oneself in it without knowing? Is there a moment when one stops and breathes, "I am in love?" Or is one already in love, and simply decides whether to continue swimming in that pool of emotion or walk away? Because a week ago I made a decision, and it felt like a seal on me, a firebrand. And on my tongue I could have sworn it tasted a little like dying, when "your life flashes before your eyes." Which it did, my life. Or what's left of it, I suppose.

Margaret Atwood was right. If we knew in advance the consequences of our decisions, we would be doomed and ruined. The irony is that there is triumph in ignorance, and there is tragedy in wisdom. And that tragedy, that hopelessness is maybe what gave me the courage, the stupidity to admit such a truth to myself. I figured I didn't have enough of a life left to lose, so I threw all caution to the wind and gave in. After all, I have always said that I prefer a love like forest fires, like runaway trains. Let me tell you, it doesn't get any more devastating than this. "The more tragic, the better," the song says. Well I'm raising my red flag, and zeroing in for the kill.

This is my decision and my word, whether you accept it or not, whether it sustains me or kills me. You are loved -- by me, by my entire being, and by a force within me so great and terrible I can't even name it. You will never be alone, and you don't ever need to be afraid. I will protect you. And my name, and the rest of my stupid, sad, sorry little life I give you, for all it's worth.

I ask nothing in return. Not your love, for it is yours to give to whomever you choose. Not understanding, when nobody else would -- or rather, is able to. Just maybe... an acceptance. An acknowledgment. A thank you, or a nod my way. Letting me know that you see me, and that you are glad to be living your life happily. If I believe in nothing else, then please let me believe in that.

Give In To Carelessness

"How could I have been so ignorant? she thinks. So stupid, so unseeing, so given over to carelessness. But without such ignorance, such carelessness, how could we live? If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next -- if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions -- you'd be doomed. You'd be as ruined as God. You'd be a stone. You'd never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You'd never love anyone, ever again. You'd never dare to."

(Iris Chase, from the book Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood)

Summoning Up A Storm

Oh wow. It's been, what, a week since I left work? I haven't been doing anything else other than going online, hanging out in message boards, and playing Silkroad. Not very productive, yes, but I simply could not resist the charms of going back to my fantasy virtual life -- that is, conjuring fireballs with a mere flick of a fingertip or whipping up a snowstorm to freeze evil tigers on their tracks.

Seriously tho, I am constantly being asked by friends what my next step will be. To be quite honest I'm not sure. The universe is still being fuzzy about it. I will most probably be doing random freelance projects in the immediate future. As a matter of fact, I just finished one from Azta Urban Salon. Another one is coming up, so I'm crossing my fingers for that.

There's also a chance I might take up writing seriously again. A friend of mine is asking help about this book he's planning on writing. We've talked about it and it sounded really interesting. It's all about Philippine Mythology, and from what my friend described, it sounded very Tolkien-esque -- in length as well as complexity. Very exciting.

I'm also thinking about redesigning my website, and maybe this blog while I'm at it. About time too. It's been over a year since I touched the damned thing. I hope I still have an idea how to work my way around the codes. Get my brain all shiny and oiled up.

And THEN there's the remote possibility of studying again. Why? Well if there's one thing I'm grateful with the company I worked with, it was in giving me the chance to do training. The whole experience made me feel like I could be a really good teacher. Or at least, a capable one. It was tiring, it was crazy, it made me incurably insane... but in the end it was all I imagined it would be. I enjoyed it immensely. And if the only way I can teach is to get a degree, then I might as well just grin, bear it, and get it.

Sigh. Well, let's see. It's the universe's call on this one. :-)

Epilogue

I have to admit, that little chapter in my life ended with quite a dramatic flair. While I didn't mean to stage my exit in a blaze of glory, I am still glad I was able embed the exact impression I was hoping for when I made the decision to leave -- on both management and the entire team. I am proud to have stood by my team till the very end, and I would do it again a thousand times over because of the mere fact that I fiercely believe in their strengths as well as weaknesses -- as trainees, as teammates, and as friends.

The text messages I received the days following my resignation never failed to tug at my heartstrings. Oft times I had to keep myself from heading over to the 21st floor of the building just a few blocks from my house, to give each of my agents on duty at that time the warmest of hugs I can spare. I would have wanted to tell them, "That was part of training, and I hope you learned something valuable from the little performance I made." And then I would have wanted to stay.

But since life is as absolute as it is cruel, there is no chance of such a thing ever happening. The last thing left here to do is close the door, and face the new riot of stories in a growing cacophony looming before me. If there is strength left in me to get through this new chapter, I couldn't care less. If I have strength to breathe, then I have strength to walk through it.

Swansong

And so, finally, I left. The time I spent in that company was constantly tread with one foot out the door, and at the back of my mind, I always thought I wouldn't be staying long. Now, after much wasteful dalliance with upper management, I have finally drawn the curtains to my stage, and left.

To my teammates, friends, brothers, sisters, I am, and always will be...


... in perfect love, and perfect trust. :-)

Another Ditch In The Road

Sigh. I'm home. This job is getting unnecessarily emotionally taxing. Although I would rather stay, I might have to consider leaving if the situation in our program does not improve soon. It's been almost a year since this account has started. People have matured and have become more aware of how things are done -- and accept it! Sadly, one essential thing is lacking. Respect.

These people are good. They are skilled and very good at what they do. Now if management can just effectively harness that massive pool of talent and experience, this will be a team to reckon with. The thing is, with the way things are going now, the people in our team aren't even getting the respect they deserve. Management has been making an awful lot of thoughtless, knee-jerk decisions that affect the health and morale of the team.

Of course I have made them aware of the situation, being part of the management team myself, but they have the same set of excuses -- "business needs," employee handbook, labor code -- which I honestly don't buy anymore. While it's all well and good we're following a system to keep things in check, it's still important that the people who are working for you are happy.

I'm proud and honored and humbled to say that the people in my team are my friends. I trust them completely and I'm glad to know they trust me and the decisions I make for them. If only we can have the same quality of trust and faith in the people who make the bigger decisions for us, then maybe we can be happier with the work that we're doing, and people will stay.

Defying Gravity

Oh I must look a fright. I can't remember the last time a song moved mountains in me. I just finished listening to Defying Gravity from the Wicked musical, and it brought back an intense longing from some forgotten corner within me for something... greater I have always wanted to feel. Something I thought I'd lost over the years since highschool. It scares me to discover it's still alive and beating more wildly every second, but, strangely, I have no intentions of stopping it this time.

So if you care to find me, look to the western sky! As someone told me lately: "Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly!" And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free! To those who'd ground me, take a message back from me... Tell them how I am defying gravity! I'm flying high, defying gravity!

Tiny, Little Update

Went to the office to finalize some things needed for the new batch of trainees tomorrow. Was planning on going to the mall afterwards to catch a screening of either My Super Ex-Girlfriend or Devil Wears Prada, but the sudden rainfall washed away any hope of doing so down the gutter. Decided to have dinner at Chowking instead and head home right away.

Anyway, just finished reading emails and it looks like I have to do some major revisions for the new batch of murals for Azta Metroeast. I hope I could get them done before the week is up. That, and several proposals for a soap product logo thingeo I promised an officemate I'd help him with.

Work, work, work, Podi. No rest for the wicked.

Hell Hath No Fury

The problem with me is sometimes I can be fiercely uncompromising when it comes to upholding my principles. Now in an ideal world, this shouldn't be a problem at all, but twenty four years in the real world should have been enough to tell me that idealism is, at best, an elusive vision one constantly aspires to but is not, if rarely, ever reached.

Contrary to what most friends have been telling me, I do not have problems dealing with authority. As a matter of fact, I believe in the idea of an effective hierarchy spinning the gears of an organization. It's just that for most of my life, the ones whom I should be respecting and looking up to do not... well... convince me.

While I do realize it makes me sound like an arrogant, elitist, and unscrupulous s.o.b., I just can't bring myself to trust the job I have done so meticulously and analytically to be given the seal of approval by someone whom I know is ignorant of the subject matter (or, more often than not, just plain ignorant).

At any rate, I suppose for what happened last week, this was the best possible outcome. No, I wasn't terminated, and unfortunately, neither was she, but I can at least take comfort in the fact that she knows she should be careful when sending out thoughtless emails just like the one she did. Because if by any misstep, she tries to pull off that shit again, the whole team, plus HR, PLUS everyone in the industry will smell the stench of her incompetence, so help me God.

Prelude to a Swansong

I have had enough. I will not feign respect to anyone who does not deserve it. Compromising principles is too high a price to pay for keeping a job which does not even know when to appreciate.

And her. HER. How I loathe her. I have never felt as much hatred for anyone, save for my father, as much as I have now for her. Her ignorance scalds me, marrow-deep. Her presence alone is oppressive, and everyone in the team feels it. Having to think of the amount of time I have to put up talking with her, dealing with her -- being in the management team myself -- is enough to keep me a step away from leaving.

BUT. I don't want to abandon my team. I care for them too much. Sigh. I will have to see which ending this little performance of mine leads the entire show to.

It Always Was In The Blood

It was tiring, crazy, and everyday I'd go home four hours after my shift, but it was ultimately, utterly fulfilling -- and here I am still swimming on the high it left my overused nerves. It was exactly how I imagined it would feel. Ever since my mother brought me with her to work when I was six, I knew I wanted to be a teacher.


here's to my first batch of trainees :-)
Y'all will be missed when I go back to the graveyard shift.

The Tragedy of Recursion

there was a time, not long ago
i believed with resolute conviction
whenever i said, "enough."

there was a time
i believed each drop of rain had a name
and yours, the one hardest to forget,
carved itself through me.
(i wear the scar within the folds of my skin
like a silver cross on a chain, secretly.)

then there was the time i stopped blaming you
because it was not your fault --
never your fault --
that the wall of lies i'd built
started crumbling down on me,
deluding myself every inch of it was true.

perhaps now is the time to stop clinging
and time to stop fooling myself
time to stop living in a pipe dream
that i am strong enough, mad enough to stay
time to stop believing when i say,
"it's not enough,"
when,
as a matter of fact,
it is.

•••
It amazed me how easily you seemed to have said it. "I had the perfectest date." Simple, innocent, noncommittal. Much similar to when someone would say, "I had puttanesca for dinner," or "I see your point." And for a minute, I actually believed 'perfectest' was a real word. One never knows what you will say next.

I, for one, never knew how being hit by a sledgehammer felt like until you've finished saying what you just said. And you carried on too, chronicling how he went to your place first and then going to the mall together afterwards, and how you had a spectacular time, agreeing to meet again the following night.

To my credit, I found myself uttering complete nonsense such as, "Wow," or "That's great," or "Really," successfully keeping to my fingers what I really wanted to say, which, I think was to the effect of, "Could you please not tell me about it anymore? Ever?"

However, no sooner than I thunk it did I discover my fingers betraying my thoughts, sending the exact same message to your IM window. It was immediately followed by, "I'm sorry I didn't imagine it would be this painful." And finally, "I'll let you know when I'm OK." And then a smiley :-) for good measure. Then I disconnected.

I didn't die, as I'd hoped I would. What did happen, what it did feel, was like being launched into space, without warning. Alien abductors crashed through the windows of the 21st floor office, carrying me up past the exosphere without so much as a bubble helmet, and leaving me there to suffocate in cosmic dust.

I was beaten. Defeated by my own delusions. And once again I am here, orbiting in the dark expanse of space. Waiting for gravity to pull me, hoping this time around, my feet will stick firmly to the ground.

Could be Worse. Could be Raining.

Mercury Retrograde is in full force, and it won't be stopping for breath until the end of July it seems. Just some of the weird things that have been happening:

(1) The cosmos has been doing its darned best to keep me from buying a new mp3 player, specifically, an iRiver T10. After a series of failed attempts at making the purchase, I decided not to push it anymore lest I be struck down by lightning or something similar for being so thick-headed.

(2) I've been getting weary of playing Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines. Loading times are a bitch, and the plot is drowning from too many side quests. Might uninstall it later or tomorrow.

(3) Things have never looked bleaker at work. I've been feeling the crunch for weeks now, but this time I think something might happen that could compromise my future in this company. While I do prefer doing something else -- something I like doing, for starters -- it's undeniable that this job still pays the bills and it's going to be difficult for me if I let go of this for now. Three words: KEEP YOUR COOL.

(4) To affirm all of these, I just had my cards read by a friend earlier this evening and he said that right now more so than ever, negative things have been coming at me from all directions, whether or not it's because of Mercury Retrograde.

And in the middle of this emotional wasteland is You. I suppose I should be grateful, if anything, You've been teaching me to be really patient -- regardless of the fact that You're not even aware of it, or my feelings for You for that matter.

Sigh. I suppose I could wait (like I had any choice). Let's just hope by the time things start looking up for me, You'd still be there. If not with me, then at least somewhere near me.

Yes, It's That Big

Putting The Damage On

"i hate that he succeeded (once again) in walking away the good guy, and i can't walk away without knowing what i'll be walking away from. if there was something to walk away from in the first place.

"i hate that i relished every moment.

"i hate that i can't even hate him with conviction. it's pathetic letting a half-baked 'fuck him' out to the void."


(this joy's life)

If, when you tell me you're at home, and you tell me you miss me, and that you would like to talk on the phone soon, and I reply I'm at home and we could talk now, and you say that you're not at home when three minutes ago you just told me you were -- is that what you meant when you said to me a couple of days ago that you wanted to be more spontaneous, random, and unapologetic?

Because really, that's just being mean and hurtful.

Within the Clouds

It’s disturbing to know how I’m always lingering, swimming in that wellspring of emotion, like an old brush dipped in an inkwell until the black is deep enough to write with. The compulsion to mold my thoughts into actual words is almost unstoppable -- a disease constantly seeping out from my bloody, pulsating organs, through my fingers, and onto the keyboard. The voices will not grant me a moment’s peace. “Write,” they breathe in my ear. “There is no other cure but to let the words flow out from inside.”

And, unapologetically so, I let them.

•••
“Do you know what a fog of war is?” I asked him. It was such a cold, cold morning when we were headed out to explore Baguio during the first day of our stay. Not that it was unusual for a place situated high above the mountains. The winds in this altitude were almost alive, like little kids careening through the atmosphere, playing before the whole world completely wakes up. “No, what is it?” A slight shiver as he buried his hands deep inside the pockets of his windbreaker.

I glanced at him as we were trudging along the constantly ascending and descending streets of Session Road, looking for something left unsaid, sensing for something left hanging in the air. A glimmer, and it was gone. I continued the conversation. “If you’ve played a role-playing game on a PC before, it’s the uncharted section on the map covered in black ‘fog.’ It clears up as you travel through the area, discovering different territories, letting the rest of the story unfold.”

“I see,” he whispered. I wanted to hold his hand. Walking the fringes of such a vast landscape of uncharted territory looming over me was, in all essence, both scary and exciting. To be here, now, with him... somehow gives me strength.

However as it turns out, my fear was not unfounded and my excitement might have been an illusion (delusion?) for something else. Within three short days, my original intent of spending an issue-less birthday was pushed further and further into my mind, and I was instead enshrouded in a sense of intemperance just by being with him. I became too childish, careless, and I was caught off guard until I realized it at the last day when we were about to go home.

“Are these clouds?” I asked him. The bus was cruising down the side of the mountain, and what was supposed to be overlooking the landscape was instead a field of pure whiteness, like a sea of swirling dreams. “It's actually fog,” he said. “But from down the mountain it might seem like clouds.” I pressed my head to the cool glass window, and I felt something break inside me. “I see.”

Now it's been a week since we were there. Gravity hasn't caught up with me yet, and little pieces of my heart were still floating aimlessly in the clouds. Baguio has left me bereft of warmth, but I would give anything to go back. “I miss Baguio,” he txted a few nights ago. It took a while before I was able to send out a reply. “I think about it a lot,” I txted back.

“I see.”

Through the Curtain of Rain

as you pass through the curtain of rain
and the tendrils of cold, cold wetness
travel down the lines of your face
i submit myself to your gravity

what force tethers me to your orbit?
by what strangeness do i cling to?
what nameless promise was made
keeping me from unloving you?

there should have been no rain that day
and neither ‘here’ nor ‘now’ should exist
as you wrap your arms around me
the sun burns silently, constantly

but its warmth is empty, empty, empty.


(for r.)

The 24th Year

Podi, you silly little boy. Were you ever really serious thinking that you could find whatever it was you were looking for just by going away? Haven't you learned anything at all? Sigh. You have to admit, it was still a wonderful three-day break for you. Baguio is very beautiful. Happy birthday indeed.

Opening Paths, Closing Doors

I told myself before I started this job that this was going to be temporary -- a filler, at least until I figure out what to do with my life. Well it's almost eight months since I've been here and I still haven't figured out what I should really be doing.

To be fair, being here opened up new paths for me and made me rediscover old ones as well. For instance, I realized how much I wanted to teach. (Maybe things like that really do run in the family.) The program is thinking of hiring new people, and it excites me to know that I will be handling that new batch. I haven't done anything formal yet, but being in front of a group of people and sharing things I know is not uncharted territory for me. As a matter of fact, it's a continent I'm willing to explore further. And this new possibility should give me the chance to do just that.

Also recently, someone I did freelance graphics work for months ago contacted me again for a possible new project. I'm not holding my breath for it since I could barely find time to do anything else other than my job now, but I still emailed him back, telling him I'd be willing to work with him again.

Now I took this as a nudge on the cosmos' part to make me buy a new computer -- which I did, just last week. My plans of saving up for a Mac was temporarily shelved, and I jumped into the foray of dual core processors. I geared myself up for serious digital graphic design damage and memory-hogging multimedia applications. Lappie taught me a lot about taking care of the things that are important to me and I am going to take care of this baby.

Speaking of lappie, he's still here, shadowing my new PC. I still use him sometimes, but I informally bequeathed him to my brother and sister. He has played a huge and significant part of my life that I can't even bear the thought of not seeing him anymore. He's here to stay as my best friend, brother, companion, and lover. :')

Sigh... Anyway, apart from teaching and doing graphic arts, I would still like to pursue web design. I can't even remember the last time I've written CSS, but I'm willing to dive into it again. I realize I have a lot of new things to catch up on, but I hope I will have enough time to do so.

And then the two things which I have grown to consider more than mere hobbies -- writing and sketching. I still doodle, and I still write a stanza or two on any piece of paper I can get my reluctant little hands on sometimes... but I feel as if it's not enough. Like I'm holding myself back. Like I've neglected something I still love -- even if that love may seem dormant now -- and broken away from any commitments I made with it in the past. I feel like I should say sorry, and do something to make up for what I did, or did not do.

So now that the cosmos has opened up new doors for me, I should think about which direction I should take the first step to -- like what I did eight months ago. But, as life is wont to do, anything new opened must mean something else must be closed. Moving on has always been a sad choice to make thus far.

Life's Simple Pleasures

Finally gotten around to doing this meme thing from my lovey-dovey. I'm afraid if I put it off any longer, he might deprive me of kissing privileges again. Goddess forbid I'd let that happen. So here goes.

•••
Ten of My Life's Simple Pleasures:
1. Drinking cold cold San Mig Light.
2. Drinking cold cold Mountain Dew.
3. The first minute after the end of a work week.
4. Singing any or all of the following songs in karaoke with friends:
       o Bituing Walang Ningning
       o Sana'y Wala Nang Wakas
       o Total Eclipse of the Heart
       o Anything AEGIS
       o Anything Spice Girls
5. Live bands in a not-so-crowded but nice enough bar.
6. Poetry readings.
7. Book sales.
8. Blueberry Cheesecake.
9. Dining out.
10. Hugs, kisses, thank yous, I love yous.

Cut or Uncut

Someone asked me about my hair and why I don't have it cut. Apart from looking like a nerdy, underfed, pale-skinned straight boy when I'm sporting short hair, growing it has become a promise -- a symbol if you will -- that if I believe in nothing, then at least I can believe I can grow my hair long.


and the whole point of this exercise is to try my
hand at photoshop again, plus a long overdue
camwhoring session

When Women Weep

Over the course of four days, four women have cried within my periphery. I do not, in any direct way, affect their lives. But for some cosmic reason, their threads managed to cross mine -- unbidden, but not necessarily unwelcomed.

It was disconcerting, to say the least. And it might appear like the universe is telling me something, like lines in an old movie bubbling their way to the surface of my brain... but to be quite honest, all four of them were crying over the same thing.

NO ONE LISTENS.

Open your ears, everyone. Start listening. You might hear something worth listening to. You might save a life.

To Be Asleep

How is it possible that I am still here? How is it, despite the fact that sometimes, my heart feels like it is slowly being crushed by the weight of planets, that I am still living? What tethers me to this world so violently, enough to keep the life blood in my veins flowing relentlessly against time, fighting for all it's worth but with so little sense of purpose or freedom?

It becomes so unbearable, that pain. So sharp, and piercing, and quick, but driven in too deep that I can feel my organs throbbing against the invading cold, glinting metal, beat per beat.

Without wanting to sound more melodramatic than I am doing so already, I must confess that suicide has always been a shadow, stalking me silently ever since I was fifteen, sixteen. Back then, it was merely a matter of crying for help -- which I have gotten from a lot of the friendships I have made during the time, of which I am eternally grateful. But now, it is inexplicably blinding. I honestly cannot tell what it is borne from, even if most people would believe otherwise.

For now though, I will be keeping myself alive and ignore the incessant malevolence rupturing my heart -- as I have done so in the past. Tomorrow I will wake up beaten, yes, bruised, yes, but still very much alive. Although honestly, I do not mind not waking up anymore.

Substitute for Love

I was on a bed that wasn't mine, reading a book I had brought with me out of habit. He stepped out of the washroom, wet on his hair and only a white towel on. "Hey," his smile seemed to say.

I returned the smile and went back to my book. The words were marching through my mind, but nothing was really registering. The book was merely a convenient thing to be holding, going through the motions of letting time pass until he was beside me.

Just about the moment when the meaning of the words were starting to sink in, I felt the bed shift on his weight. The blending of soap and his scent filled my senses, and all other things save his name evaporated from my mind. I looked at him and he smiled again. This was what I wanted, I felt myself smiling back. This, when words were not needed anymore. When everything can be communicated through a slight convergence in the air, a minimal shift of muscle.

His face hovered near mine. We kissed, and then he held me to him. He saw the book I was still holding and asked what it was about. "I'm not really sure," I told him. He chuckled -- an odd and merry sound bouncing playfully off the four walls of the room. Another change in the air. Still pleasant.

I set the book down on the bedside table and snuggled under his neck. His skin was still cold from the shower, but I can feel the warmth of his flesh -- how bare, how vulnerable, how human he seems. How real. There was a glimmer of doubt for one second, if everything that was happening was merely a delusion of mine uncanilly molded from a powerful dream, but when I felt his hand stroke my hair, I finally accepted its absolute, inexorable reality.

He lifted my face and kissed me again. We disrobed, and made love in silence. "How much do you love me?" I found myself asking. "This much," he said. "This much... and this... and this..." and on, and on, until we both came. It seemed like lifetimes, and then suddenly it was over. Still, silently over. We laid down again and slept.

I felt the bed shift again. He was getting up, getting dressed. He kissed my forehead, my consciousness eventually converging within the four walls of the room that was not mine. I rubbed the dust of sleep from my eyes, and got my wallet. I handed him two P500 bills. "Thanks," he said. "I'll see you again soon. Txt me."

Shivering from the air conditioning, I pulled on my jacket. "Sure. Thanks." He smiled one last smile, different from the ones he gave me an hour or two ago. I smiled back, also different from the ones I'd given him. He let himself out. I checked my mobile phone for the time. I still have an hour before I had to check out. I went back to sleep.

Summerland Doesn't Love Us Anymore

The universe just won't let us live in peace. The moment our program sees signs of settling down, something will come our way to shake up the dust.

After the innocuous event involving our boss and some of our teammates, another storm is brewing -- six of our people will be transferred to another account. This means from the twenty five people we have (excluding two supervisors and two leads), we will be reduced to nineteen.

Management says we're overstaffed. I say NO WE'RE NOT. What with the system latency we have to put up with day after day -- which by the way is another irritating issue with a simple solution but, for some weird reason it almost feels as if there's a conspiracy against us, our IT department doesn't do anything about -- and the occasional random unfortunate event, it's pretty apparent that we are just properly staffed. I can't even pull people out for up-training and coaching we so desperately need!

Sigh. I say it's one of the many desperate measures management has been making recently just to cut corners. I doubt transferring people would help though. Our group is very small, and people have already expressed intent on resigning if ever they get chosen to be transferred. Bad move for management. No one wins.

And even I, who normally wouldn't even spare half a glance -- let alone complain -- towards such things involving finances, am being affected by their decisions. I am doing the job of a Lead Agent, QA, and Trainer, and still I'm earning the salary of an agent, give or take a thousand pesos. They even had the gall to mark me down as being absent for one day and then being late for three hours on my payslip when here I am, going to work four-fucking-hours early almost everyday the past week just to finish the GODDAMNED UPTRAINING I AM NOT ABLE TO DO BECAUSE I CAN'T PULL PEOPLE OUT, WHY? Oh right. THE IRRITATING SYSTEM LATENCY OUR IT DEPARTMENT DOESN'T DO JACK SHIT ABOUT!

WHERE IS THE LOVE, PEOPLE?!?!

Still Running

I couldn't shake away the feeling -- the uncertainty -- whether I'm running towards something or running away from something. This limbo is going on longer than I'd anticipated. No sight of the great white light yet.

So tomorrow's another day. Still running. Still running.

Eve of the 19th

A universe of things happening tomorrow: my demo to the head of the another department at work, Harold leaving for Dubai (or was it Riyadh?), Hono'o-chan's birthday -- the reality of each refusing to sink in just yet.

•••
I still haven't started drafting my presentation, even if I knew about it for a week already. Seems when it comes to things like these, I revert to my usual college habits. I hope I'd be able to talk my way through with what I can work with. If not, well, it's no big deal. Not for me at least.

Our program doesn't need a dedicated trainer, I plan to tell the department head. No need to waste company resources on a relatively small account which can stand on its own and just ask for help when absolutely needed. Staying with ops as a Lead and functioning only as a trainer when needed is more practical.

Besides, all this position-hopping is not doing any good for my mental health. I'm not even a regular employee yet and I've done more leaps than Super Mario on mushrooms. Now I don't want to sound ungrateful, and I sincerely appreciate what the company has given, but honestly, I would be just as happy being an ordinary agent. Happier even, since it's closer to the Zen-ordinariness which I so crave. But who am I to fight when the cosmos thinks otherwise.

•••
I txted Harold this afternoon. I'm really glad his trip is pushing through. We haven't talked about it much when we were together, basically because it was just a passing thought back then. But now that it's really happening... I don't know what to feel. It's unfamiliar, but pleasant. All I know is I have a gut feeling Harold will be happy when he gets to where he's going.

•••
And then there's Hono'o-chan...

Weathering the Storm

A little disappointed this part wasn't in the movie:

ROGER: "Mark has got his work," they say "Mark lives for his work," and "Mark's in love with his work." MARK HIDES IN HIS WORK.

MARK: From what?!

ROGER: From facing your failure, facing your loneliness, facing the fact you live a lie. Yes, you live a lie! Tell you why -- you're always preaching not to be numb, when that's how you thrive. You pretend to create and observe when you're really detached from feeling alive.

It really hit close to home. Too bad recently I've been a little apprehensive referring to work as a temporary sanctuary. Past few days, a lot of things are happening -- specifically very murky office politics -- which are proving to be very difficult territories to wade through.

Regardless whether both sides have valid arguments, it's still undeniably a dirty affair and I'd rather have nothing to do with it. Which I don't, as a matter of fact, but with an account as small as ours, even the innocent ones feel the wave, and little earthquakes in between are unavoidable.

I called a meeting for my team before the shift ended tonight, told them to try and weather what's happening, and to not get involved anymore. If things go well, we can expect minimal turbulence at most. Otherwise, I will have to force myself step up and see what I can do about it.

Sigh. Honestly I just want a normal, ordinary job. Why can't one collective of minds just get along while going the same direction? But I think we all know the answer to that already. It's just that with a group as small as ours, it shouldn't be that difficult getting along, right?

Princess Serenity is right. Life is not a Great Game, but a Great Dance. Still, there are people who'd rather experience life as a Game. And I can't hold it against them either.

No More Lies

I'm starting to consider a life without the Internet. I feel cleaner and more free. I feel like I can be myself more, and not pretend to be someone else behind a handle. I can live an actual life again.

I honestly can't believe I'm saying this, but I suppose I'm better off this way. Of course I will still have to log on sometimes -- check emails, blog, and take in the occasional good shit, but maybe it would be better if I live off the real world for a while.

For now I am taking a deep bow and fading off into the background. No more lies, I promised. Let's see how the truth will shine from where I will be standing.

Jettisoned Into Space

I don't want to waste this feeling. These days it always seems like I have an elastic string tied around my waist, with the other end firmly attached to Earth.

Most days -- especially during work days -- I have my sensibilities (mostly) anchored to the ground. But there are rare times, like right now, when I feel as if I am suddenly launched high up into the air and jettisoned into space. When the last thing I want to do is something anticlimactic, like going home.

It's difficult to explain, really. Is it freedom? Is it being alive? Is it being real? I'm not exactly sure. It's hard to keep focus when the entire universe is rushing like a runaway train before my eyes. All I know is I should keep up before the noise dies down.

Something To Break

The last hour of the shift always puts me on edge. On one hand it's such a relief knowing I've survived one more day without ever shedding blood, but on the other hand it seems like this is where all the dormant stress-inducers suddenly pounce at me and bite me in the ass.

I can understand that it's most probably because of the fact that 10:30 PM here is 8:30 AM CST -- the time when most of our customers are alive and all cranked up when composing their lovely, lovely emails for us. Add to that the all too often misplaced eagerness of the agents to go home and not wanting to think anymore, it all sums up to quite a gut-wrenching 59 minutes, with me conveniently at the receiving end of the spectrum.

Never mind that I still have reports to finish before the hour is up, people will still indiscriminately shout my name from the other end of the room just to ask about a very simple problem we have been talking about again and again and again which, for some undecipherable reason, does not stick to whatever goo replaced their brains with! Do they not see it?! DO THEY NOT SEE IT?!?!

[Insert unintelligible shrieks of frustration here.]

In fairness, I still manage to give my BEST smile and offer the highest level of assistance to anyone who may ask it of me AND finish my reports on time to boot.

But oh goddess, I need something smashed at the end of the day. Please.

Weight

Its weight is unimaginable. The absence of knowing ones purpose is a burden so great, that its ability to incapacitate a life rivals even that of hopelessness.

And while I refuse to give in -- while I refuse to let my sensibilities cave in -- I am begging the cosmos not to push me any further. Because all it takes is one little nudge. Consider this a warning.

Another OGT Surfaces

I was never hooked in this century's torrent of "reality" show hype, nor have I been interested in knowing the first thing about designing clothes (and in the rare times that I have, I -- as with most things in my life -- just wing it), but for some weird reason, I am this close to being addicted to Project Runway.

Oh wait. It's not that weird. I forget. I'm GAY. Whew. For a minute there I thought I just really liked Tim Gunn^*.

Yes, there may be times when I am accused of having a stray sense of cultural identity, but having an affinity for all things beautiful and instrinsically bitchy shouldn't disturb me.




__________
[^*] I do.

The Unravelling

This is not the life you're supposed to be living, Podi. Whose life is this? This isn't yours. Whose dreams are you living? Whose clothes are you wearing? This isn't your dream. This life isn't yours. This isn't you.

Who are you?

Whoever you are, you're feeling it, aren't you? You're wondering, is it just beginning? Or has it always been there? This life you're in -- this pseudo reality -- it's starting to unravel. Like loose threads of an old skein, your life is slipping through your fingers.

Sure you're holding everything together now. And maybe you can keep yourself intact. But for how long?

I can hear you breathing, Podi. I can feel your doubt. No more lies, you said. No more lies. Riddle me this, riddle me that.

What are you going to do Podi? Where are you going? Who are you?

Pride Rock

I honestly just want to get along with people. Honestly. I don't even want people to like me. Just, "Hey look, it's Podi," and then they'd get on with their lives. I don't want to aggravate anyone or make anyone think that I'm trouble.

But there are certain times when I can't help being enraged -- either by something or by someone -- and let my emotions fly out like some hundred runaway kites in a Pacific thunderstorm.

This afternoon, I took one more victim. I didn't mean to. I was having an OK day -- planning on opening my own bank account (after 23 years, I know), buying a new book, and visiting a friend at the hospital. But there really are some people who, no matter how painfully I strive for cosmic harmony, just grate my nerves by merely expressing an iota of their existence in my life.

I look up to people for their skill, their individuality, their faith, their principle, among other things... but if I sense a trace of doubt -- if that person can't make me believe s/he is worth following -- even if it just barely hinted its existence within, then I apologize but my respect will waver.

I realize this is not necessarily a good thing on my part. And I understand I only see my side of things. But believe me when I say I know what I'm doing. I know in my heart I do. And I will not compromise my principles for anything. Especially not for someone like YOU.

High on Diesel and Gasoline

The world could have ended. It could have exploded in so much cosmic dust floating in the wastelands of outer space. It could have fallen down the rabid hole and gone completely insane. I didn't care. I was drunk and high on chocolate and cherry-laced vodka. I have never felt more harmonized with the cosmos.

Who needs love? Give me a slammer anytime.




__________
PS: I visited my highschool last Friday by the way. It's very different now, but the memories I chose to leave there were still hanging about the empty spaces. So real and solid that the air seemed almost electric... dissonant... even terribly imposing. I wonder if the stuff I felt were just mine? Or if some belonged to other, lonelier kids who came after me?

A Little Instance of Love

So I got it on with lappie and a bag of chewy chocolate chip cookies yesterday and had my Annual Movie Marathon from late afternoon until midnight. Last year I watched the complete series of Angels in America, and Home at the End of the World. Yesterday, it was Lola + Bilidikid, Blue Citrus Hearts, and Torch Song Trilogy.

Suffice it to say I'm still feeling quite... raw from the emotional roller coaster ride watching the three movies gave me. But it was Valentine's after all. We have license to be reckless with our emotions and no one will question it, as opposed to any other day. Although I am, however, more inclined to believing a friend who said "we should celebrate love any day, for no particular reason -- not just for one day and because the whole world tells us to."

He's right of course. And, like a small candle within a cold, dark room, I hope that once in a while, people see that wee flicker of what we once want -- what we now have forgotten -- even just for a little while. Because like in the three movies I have just seen, a little while of love makes a world of difference to whole lot of lives.

Idleness Is The Devil's Plaything

I have to say it's really a very stressful task keeping the sine waves of my life humming a constant, normal beat. I had no idea being cool and calm was this daunting and meticulous. Although I have to admit, I am liking the results; but sometimes it feels like I'm walking the plank -- a whole ocean of uncertainty ready to swallow me up with one small misstep, one missed heartbeat.

Yes, in part I'm talking about work. Work has been normal for the past month, and none of those dreadful thoughts of losing my job have been hovering over my head like a persistent black cloud. Even if there is still that possibility, I've learned to accept things the way they are and I'm feeling a little OK about the whole deal already. So no problems with that particular aspect of my life.

Another part -- one that's a bit harder to put up with -- is when I'm not working. When I'm not in the office. When I'm just here, in my room, with nothing to do. These are the moments I'm finding especially difficult to deal with. Why? Because in four words: It Makes Me Horny.

I hate it when I'm horny. The natural god-like shimmer about my person when I'm usually seen standing tall and proud? It disappears when I'm horny. Instead, my body feels like it's been caked with mud, and I am compelled to prostrate myself, sully myself even further because I deserve to be punished, debased, and humiliated -- the filthy person that I am.

Damn. See what I mean? I abso-fuckin-lutely hate it. I need more friends to go out with. But because of the schedule I have (I work 2:30 PM - 11:30 PM, with Mondays and Tuesdays as my days off), most of my friends are busy when I'm not.

Sigh, life. You never make things easy, do you?

Speak No Evil

Having been awake since 1 in the morning, I think I might have said a few things about some of my teammates I will regret in the coming days. The intoxicating feeling of being deprived of proper sleep may take me to emotional highs akin to being drunk, but the laser precision of truths I am prone to disclosing can be as scathing as any dirty little secret -- however vicious and cruel -- ever to have existed in the universe.

I know an apology is worth nothing faced with a truth revealed, but please forgive me for not being able to keep it hidden as I should have.

Still Hoping This Isn't A Joke

This was supposed to be a "rant" journal entry, but fortunately this txt message got to me on time:

Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. So love the people who treat you right, forget about the ones who don't, and believe that everything happens for a reason. Know a good thing when you see it, and don't let it slip away. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said it would be easy, they just said it would be worth your while.

Yesterday morning I was doing my job as per usual. Checking the attendance, doing my first hourly report for the day, and making sure the first few escalations were not expiring.

Two agents were absent and a couple were late -- nothing obtrusive. Queue activity was normal, and the volume was manageable -- if not relatively easy. Escalations on the other hand were the usual "please advise," or "two e-coupons please." Inane. Run-of-the-mill. Ordinary.

At this point, maybe I could say that finally, after weeks of being a total wreck, it seems that I'm starting to get settled in with my job as a Lead. I promised myself I was letting it all go, surrendering -- albeit with much kicking and screaming -- to the cosmos; willing to let it have its way with me however it may see fit. Finally, I relent and accept that this is how it's supposed to be.

Apparently I was wrong.

I slumped down on my chair slack-jawed and still in shock about the news my supervisor told me -- that I have just been appointed as THE trainor for our program. As a matter of fact, a senior trainor for the company was on his way to tell me all about the shit I'd have to put up with from then on, as well as how I'm supposed to deal with said shit.

All at once the voices in my head started their riotous orchestra of hoots and screeches and other unintelligible shrieks of protest. Alarms and sirens were going off all over the place, and a cacophony of horns were blowing without thought or warning.

It was so noisy; I don't know what to think anymore; everything was happening way over my head; so much so that when the senior agent got to my area, the only thing I managed to say to him was, "With all due respect, I don't know jack shit about my job description anymore."

Despite that little mental/verbal slip, he simply chuckled it off as if I meant to be funny (I didn't), proceeded to give me the manual (read: v. v. thick), and orient me on what I'll be doing from then on. Good thing even if my mind was still racing, at least I more or less caught on what he meant to say.

In a nutshell, there's no stopping for breath, Podi. You've gotten this far without royally screwing anything up as of yet, haven't you? It's obvious the universe is toying with you but really, in the long run, does it matter?

Case in point: you didn't want this job but you still got it. You didn't want to be a Lead but it was still given to you. Now, the universe knows you wanted to be a trainor EVENTUALLY but since it knows it won't be happening any time soon if they left it up to you, they gave the circumstances a slight nudge to make it go your way. So, after three months, THIS. Will you still question it?

You know everything happens for a reason, Podi. You're stupid, but not stupid enough to let something like this pass. You PROMISED the universe you'd let it take care of you. You gave your trust. Again, it won't be easy but IT'S GOING TO BE WORTH YOUR WHILE. You might not be taking one step at a time as you're supposed to be doing and instead, making terrifying leaps and bounds... but really, in the end, what matters right? How you deal with it.

Stop fighting, Podi. Let it change your life.

I Am That I Am

Got this from hono'o-chan, who got this from maleficent, who said she got this from a Native American website years ago. Please read, and find strength. :-)

•••
The Gifts of Being Gay: Letting Go of Fear
Cristi Jenkins

1.
I am not gay because I want to shame you. Though it may be so in your eyes, that is not why I call myself your daughter... or your son.

I am not gay because I want to dishonor you, or because I do not want to please you, or fail to give you reason to be proud of me -- though you may perceive it as so. I wish that I could live my life to make you happy, but to do so would be at my expense -- and that is not healthy for either of us.

I am not gay to prove that you may only see what you want to see, for that is not my choice but yours.

I am not gay to cause you to worry though there maybe just cause, for harassment and homophobia are realities, but I do not call my self I AM to shrivel behind the fear of what might be.

I am not gay for you to trample on my heart and to ignore my attempts to communicate who I am. Although you may perceive it as your parental right, that is not why you may call me your son or daughter.

I am not gay to find pleasure in the fact that you fear me, but would ask that you look beyond my sexuality as being an issue of right or wrong; but rather as what is -- the reality of our lives -- whether together, or apart.


2.
I am not gay just to claim that you are intolerant, though you may deny it is so. For I believe the creator loves all people equally -- not one race above another, not one religion above another, not one person above another.

I am not gay to be in need of being saved or corrected when you think that you are wiser than I and can now somehow speak for and use the self-imposed, privileged argument called "GOD". Though you may think that this is your special calling or divine right, and may perceive it as such; your words spoken largely out of fear, are just words, your opinion. For who I truly am is holy and my path sacred -- only I can walk therein and divinely know that what I travel is true and good.

I am not gay to ask for people's scorn, or for their pity, though you may perceive that I am now deceived and have somehow lost my way from the one-and-only-true-path-to-god, I assure that the path I walk is truly one of peace and love.

I am not gay to find pleasure in rebelling against the family's way-of-life, the religious mandates for over four generations, etched deeply in our identity, the essence of who we have been, and for some -- who we will always be.

I am not gay to cause you grief because I no longer call myself a christian, and that is not why I call myself enlightened. And although I do not agree with all that you taught me, I honor your right to live your lives as you see fit for your highest good. Please understand that your idea of what is the highest good good is for me, is not necessarily the same in my eyes. I ask for your blessing in living my life as I create and claim my own happiness.

I am not gay to be a sinner, or the devil, or the scapegoat for all the perceived immoral pitfalls of society. Though you may perceive it to be so, I have found that happiness lies within one's self, in seeking personal responsibility in all aspects of one's life, and in not blaming someone or something else for one's perceived unhappiness. We create what we experience.

I am not gay to try to snuff out organized religion, though you may act as if the threat is great. I simply ask to question the function of patriarchal rules, set to keep the sexes unbalanced, creating oppression and inequality in the name of a controlling, often condemning, human-made religion. Why can't it be different?

I am not gay to enjoy being seen as a threat to a specific belief system, but when society claims that I should not be allowed to freely be and love as all people, then in truth I must say, this cannot be tolerated.


3.
I am not gay to close to my eyes to injustice, for I see and live in a world or injustice everyday.

I am not gay to crusade to recruit others to change their sexuality, though you may trivialize orientation as merely a choice; but having felt the difference in my life for years -- and out of fear denied, I offer compassion to those who recognize this sameness and thus extend a ray of hope that peace and spiritual wholeness can be found in accepting one's self in its divine totality.

I am not gay because I hate myself nor the opposite gender, though you may perceive it as so. It is not why I choose to honor both the male and female energies, nurturing balance within, thus embracing life as whole and full of divine possibility.

I am not gay to threaten the love between a male and female, family or kin - to negate in any way the beauty, health, and strength found in loving relationships. I live everyday to embrace the benefits of divine love in all aspects of our world, and such declare myself worthy and equal to the human race in freely expressing my need and right to love and intimate connection. (see Dean Ornish's book, "Love and Survival, the Scientific Basis for the Healing Power of Intimacy", HarperCollins, 1998.)

I am not gay because you say I desire to molest children. Though unjust and empirically incorrect, you may claim it is so to create fear through hysteria and ignorance. *I do not desire to love and nurture children to cause them harm. My fight to them is to provide support, to nurture their strengths and soul essences without condemnation of ways in which they may differ from myself. For I deeply know the pain of parental rejection and remember the saving phrase of the few nonjudgmental adults in my growing-up years, "Who you are is okay, and we love you exactly as you are."

*(The large majority of pedophiles are heterosexual males perpetrating against female children. Gay people are no more likely to molest children than are heterosexual people. See Out in all Directions, the Almanac of Gay and Lesbian America; Lynn Witt, Sherry Thomas, Eric Marcus eds,; "Most Common Myths" Warner Books, p.359)

I am not gay to be seen as an inept parent, though you may claim this is so. As in any family, it is a consistently loving and supportive environment which fosters optimal growth in human beings -- not one's sexual orientation.

*(Ample studies, over 70 in one compilation, show that children of homosexual parents are as healthy as children of heterosexual parents. See Diversity, Boise, ID May 1997.)

I am not gay to hide or believe that any part of my life is a mistake, for I too am created and called "good" by the creator, and I refuse to buy into the argument that I am biologically or spiritually inferior. I am who I am supposed to be -- a gift, a life in loving totality.

I am not gay to ignore that I can make a difference, though you may wish that I remain unseen. For I claim the endowment, the perceptions, and keen awareness of being opposite-gendered, and as such see ways where balance and wholeness are possible in our world, for I have found it in myself first.

I am not gay because I fear the "wrath of god", for I have only known the sting of human condemnation, for the god within is love, and THAT is why I honor who I AM!


4.
I am gay because I am no better or worse than another human being -- I AM.

I am gay because I have questioned why I have not felt peace at times in my life, for I have learned to honor and trust the answers from my heart as true and good.

I am gay because I no longer choose to run from life, where fear fails to dictate how I think and act.

I am gay because I have realized it is more important to call forth and walk in the energy of who I AM as opposed to what people say I should be.

I am gay because I understand that the love of god cannot be confined to one religion or belief system.

I am gay because I know the creator loves all people equally, where there is no judgment of "good" or "bad," "right" or "wrong"; where such judgments do not exist; where here and now can be filled with joy, for we call it to be ourselves.

I am gay because I have questioned societal rules, for the questioning has revealed that the rules themselves often cause us to fear one another.

I am gay because the journey, though difficult at times, has taught me that we are not so different, that most of us in one way or the other are taking what life gives us and trying to build strength from it.

I am gay because I have walked through the fear, and learned to extend my love to all creations, and in creating balance, I find the beauty of who I am, as well as see it in who we are -- as family.

I AM that I AM.