Rocket Man (I Think It's Going to be a Long Long Time)

“I will never leave the Philippines!”

Those are the words that keep on reverberating in my brain as I felt the wheels of this Thai Airways plane that I am riding landed on the concrete runway of Heathrow Terminal here in London.

As soon as I get out of that plane, I knew that my life is about to change.  But how? That, I actually don’t know.

After 6 years of being a nurse in the Philippines, I never had the slightest inkling of an idea that I will be working abroad.

You see, nursing graduates in our country is fated to any of the following destinations:

1. Get absorbed or hired in a hospital. Stay there indefinitely as a staff nurse, or by dint of cosmic luck, get promoted in your post.
2. Join an industry totally unrelated to nursing.  Business outsourcing, direct selling, pyramiding, wedding coordination, planning for events, anything. But not nursing.
3. Enroll in a graduate school, law school, med school, business school, or even culinary school. Any school, really. 
4. Go abroad.

Looking back, maybe it is really the time to choose the last. As I can categorically claim that I have accomplished the first three with flying colours.

As I approached the hangar, I felt the cold Arctic wind pierces through my skin and freezes my bones.  It was so cold, I could not even lift my legs.

In my mind I just toyed with the idea that, finally, I can now experience the changing of the seasons.  Not the wet and dry ones like what we have in the tropics, but the ones where people actually do prepare and celebrate the coming of the spring.

As soon as the lady in the Immigration Desk noisily slammed a stamp on my passport, right there I know:

A new season has begun.

Use Somebody

When I was younger, I never had that Justin Taylor coming of age crap. I discovered my sexuality at such an early age due to some kind of affair with someone I still get to see at times. My self-discovery seemed to unfold very smoothly. I hated the dramas and all of the complications. I managed my case the best way I possibly could.

I’ve found escape in dating a lot of men and in non-stop partying in almost all places known to man. I’ve invested less in love and more in casual sex. It’s amazing because I have never even considered myself to be a very sexual person. I am a person of the world. A child of the universe.

I never knew what love was until I met Marco, my first true love. We were good together yet circumstances seem to break us apart. He left me for the States and the long distance relationship that has transpired proved to be too much to handle.

And then there was MJ, who provided a much needed respite for my aching soul. Yet this relationship seems to reinforce the fact that his love could never replace my longing for Marco. As he succinctly said, “I just used him for my advantage,” upon which I categorically deny.

There was E. My on-and-off partner for 2 years. It is in this relationship that I really judge it essential to define what you are doing from the very beginning. There is a thin line that separates perfect friendship and exclusive dating. So when he told me that he has been seeing someone else while we were still together, I just knew that we were heading in different directions.

Lastly, there was J, my stronghold. When I’m lying in his arms, I could completely surrender. We are perfect, yet his needs are different from mine. He wanted me to live with him and leave my own family, upon which I could not indulge. At 23, I believed that I’m still not the settling kind. I learned that it takes a lot of courage to make such life-changing decisions, and yes, I'm not that strong.



It’s amazing because at my age, it appears that I have become an “authority” in these relationship situations. During high school, my peers thought of me as inappropriate just because I’m more aware of my sexuality than them, and that I have experimented at such an age where other people find it to be unfitting. I might have learned what love and sex means as such a tender age yet the more I learn about love, the more I realize that I still do have a lot to discover.

Being 23 and single is like a curse in this condemnatory world. In this society where having a special someone appears to be the norm rather than the exception, the fact that you do not have someone to watch movies with is just plain pathetic and pitiable. Those who defy the norms are either mentally incapacitated, emotionally depressed, or just plain indifferent.

Yes I still want to have that special someone to hold my hands and spend the nights with. But I’m in no rush. It seems that the more I obsess about having a lover, the more critical and pathetic I become. There will always be a lot of men here in the city. He will come, expectedly, so I guess there’s still no need to hurry. Give me a few months, a few years, and I’ll be a happy man. For now, allow me to bask in my blissful singlehood and give me back my long lost happiness. After all, despite all the heartaches, the pain and the sorrows, the world still owes me happiness and fulfillment.

And I’m claiming it now.

A Sorta Fairytale

Remember that time when we were younger? When we were too little and carefree to think of all life’s worries? When our biggest fear in life come birthday-time is not receiving the present that we hoped for all year long? Whether we are getting that spanking new toy that will make us the envy of the kids in the neighborhood, or we are, by dint of cosmic joke, bound to receive (again) that despicable snake and ladders set that we perpetually receive on an annual basis?

As kids, we hope for the coming of the next year. Adulthood is something we are dying to reach. We were too bold and brazen to decide, as such an early age, what we wanted to become when we grow old. And as far as I could recall, never in my wildest dream have I told myself that I wanted to become a nurse when I was that young.

By a sudden twist of fate, the image of birthdays being shiny and hopeful turned into something dreaded and scary. That was when we learned that growing up is never a joyful passage of time and memories but a ruthless monster devouring our hopes and dreams. Time has become our enemy. And birthdays, an event we associate with aging and sorrow.



I started asking myself: is this the memory I am going to imprint in my life as I grow older?

Or can I, for one, be like that child again, and celebrate my birthday the way it was supposed to be commemorated?

For the past 5 years that I have been writing here at The Unbearable, my birthdays are marked by loneliness, hope, beginning, and sorrow, a psychologist could easily interpret as an unconscious guise of my inner bipolar self. In between my personal oscillations of using and abusing several drugs in the formulary, ranging from anti-depressants to minor tranquilizers, lucid intervals are always bliss. And I’m proud to say that for 3 years now, my body has become prescription- or recreational-drug-free, and my doses of Valium have been minimized to a great extent.

Why, then, am I feeling this melancholic?

I actually don’t know. Blaming my brain’s raphe nuclei and serotonin proves to be an effortless escape but I won’t digress. Maybe it’s the season, and it’s my Seasonal Affective Disorder talking, but I have always liked the rain, making the diagnosis very unlikely. I think the conclusion is that the problem lies within myself. And I therefore need not ask.

In a few hours, I will be turning 18. Plus 5.

A few years back, I was praying to the Lord to give me enough wisdom to help me decide what is right for me and act upon that in a prudent manner. A few months back I think I received the wisdom that I ultimately longed for. Last year, I was living a life. It might not be the “best” life I’m capable of living, but in my heart I know it’s the kind of life that I know I will never exchange for for all of eternity.

This time, I have only one prayer:

I will live my life.

And this time, I will live it well.

*

Thank you for your unending support. This post is for single men (and women) everywhere, and one in particular... my very good friend Raymond, the eternal optimist, who always believes in love.

So Yesterday

Milestones – that’s what they are called. Trust, mistrust. Autonomy, shame. Initiative, guilt. Industry, inferiority. Identity, role confusion.

Intimacy.

Isolation.

I have always believed that during the course of my fleeting, ephemeral lifetime, I was able to pass my psychological milestones with flying colors. I like to believe that I was nurtured well enough that I was poured, bathed even, with the necessary milieu needed to achieve them. Then came my epiphany.

I have always asked myself year after year as to how my life has been changing. Yes there might have been that proverbial, “older and wiser” adage but I doubt as to whether this passage still applies to me, or I’m moving otherwise. It appears to me that just like mankind, I have been taking huge steps backward, and it seems as if my world is screeching to a halt.

When I was younger and my ways of dating could be defined as indiscriminate at least, looking for love has been like choosing a personal outfit. I was young and reckless back then and love for me is just like a chemistry experiment. If the reagent does not match with the base product, we dispose, and if things go awry, we run to the nearest fire escape.



I seem to have found myself in a stage where I think I’m ready to settle down. But every time I think of the single, carefree life that I will be leaving, fear grows in my heart. Am I ready to commit to my one true love? Is he the one? Can I get over my previous lovers whom I still feel a certain response every time I see their faces or hear their names? Will I miss the night life I think I will desert once I’ve decided to settle down? Am I still allowed to flirt with other people? Am I a husband material?

A lot of my friends have been hitting me with a hammer, figuratively. At 22 (23 next week), I still have a lot of immaturities I should’ve grown out of when I was 13. But then again, at 13, I was facing a psychological test straight people are passing through with ease. It took me several years, and several failed relationships to finally decide what I wanted to be. And there I’ve found my identity.

“Don’t settle for anything less,” I always tell myself. But then again, the more pressing question is that, “do I deserve the things that are presented before me?” Or am I taking them for granted.

I just hope that there will never come a time when life will turn it’s back on me and tell me, “I have given you enough, now it’s time to take what’s mine.”

Darn identity.

My Life Would Suck Without You

I find it amazing that almost a year ago, I was musing with my epiphanies of self-indulgent greatness with this post that I personally think is the best that I have written. That despite the fact that the scale of accomplishment and failure tips on the former rather than the latter, what I have achieved for the past year is something I could definitely be proud of.



Looking back, the three words that sum up my dreary almost non-existent life is nursing, sleeping and eating. The thing that fuels my existence, aside from my pay check, is personal satisfaction. I made things possible without a special someone, a trophy person, dare I must say, to celebrate with my victories and empathize with my defeat. To quote;

(3) My ideal guy is just around the corner, and sooner or later, he’ll get to find me. It’s just that we’re both busy chasing our dreams that our lovelives is a little haywire. After some readjustments of goals, he’ll come to me, and we’ll live happily ever after.

Fast forward a few months of waiting, just when I thought that I have given up on love (again), a special someone comes in the form of an amazing, understanding person. I might have had a notorious reputation of finding my loved ones in the most inopportune places (only if you consider ONS’s as inopportune), this time, I thought that this could be it. I told myself that there’ll be no pressure this time. “Let’s see” has become my personal mantra. And time has become my friend instead of my foe.

Before, my weekends are filled with night outs with friends with the aim of spying potential lovers that would pass our ways. Looking at couples not only enliven my angst on love but also rouse my relentless homicidal ideations and murderous tendencies. I channelled my inexorable libido into my personal work, and even started a new hobby in taking photographs.



But then this person came. And I was inspired. My weekends are now filled with intense lovemaking sessions (hahaha) and I no longer feel the existential angst for lovers walking as if they’re the only people in the world. I no longer dread the pity talks. The self-help books will have to go for now. And I will no longer watch movies alone.

Though everything is still far from the hedges of roses that I have envisioned before and am still envisioning now, the fact that I did not spent Valentine’s Day alone is enough blessing that I should feel thankful for.

Images from my friend K's multiply account.

More Than This

This video is beyond heartbreaking.





I'm in tears.

The Story

“All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of who I am
And how I got to where I am…

Reading New Year posts never fail to both amaze and disappoint me.

I feel so jealous that some people were able to accomplish so much at such a little amount of time, and yet here I am, feeling as if nothing has changed and everything is going against my way.

But there are times when I just feel elated because there are moments when a single day, a single minute, a single hour stretched like a forever’s worth of happiness and satisfaction.

And just like that I feel nothing but thankful.

Thankful to Him for the blessings I’ve received for yet another 365 days of my existence.

Thankful for my superiors for giving me a stable job. One that allows me to manage my own finances. That despite the seemingly meager amount, it nevertheless gave me enough to afford me trips to Gucci and Louis Vuitton and end up carrying some.

For my patients for allowing me to learn a whole lot of things. I may not have given them my undivided care but in my heart I knew that it is my best they have received.

For my co-staff for being my mentors and friends.

For my family for continuously bringing out the best in me. For sticking with me through thick and thin, I will be eternally grateful.

For “J,” for believing in me and loving me and taking good care of me. We might not have been “there” and the road is still long and winding, but I’m thankful because we have taken the first step together and I’m praying that you’ll be holding my hand as we journey through life together.

And for you for inspiring me to write. A passion I nurture for quite a long time. For this blog that served as a forge where I can share my emotions, never will I quit you, that’s for sure.



With all these blessings and wonderful people surrounding my life, tell me why should I feel ungrateful for?

…Oh but these stories don’t mean anything
When you’ve got no one to share them to
It’s true, I was made for you.

Oh yeah, and it’s true that I was made for you.”

*

Images from flickr. Lyrics from Brandi Carlile's "The Story."

(What Have You Done Today To Make You Feel) Proud

"I step out of the ordinary
I can feel my soul ascending
I am on my way
Can't stop me now
And you can do the same"

I find it queer (redundancy aside) that in my 22 years of existence, never have I participated, engaged, witnessed, nor get involved, in *our annual pride parade.

Minus the first two years where I am still unable to walk and the next 12 years of undefined identity, that left me with 8 missed opportunities of celebrating and professing my pride with my sexuality and personal identity.

I asked myself, am I not proud of the person that I have become?



I could say that I'm not the typical confused man. At an early age, I already knew what I wanted to achieve and what I wanted to become.

I had my first relations at the age of 16, became exposed to the complicated queer life at 17, and successfully managed my first committed relationship at 18. Bed was my niche even before Bed became Bed, and I witnessed how Government became the Government that was now.

This premature exposure, however, doesn't come without a price. After a couple of years of countless boozing, whoring and experimenting, I became a little tired of that usual scene.

I stayed out of it for quite a while. I nurtured committed relations without the frills and fuzz and the complications of my previous juvenile immaturities. I drove myself out from the fast lane. I held on to my peace.



There are moments when I still question myself if this quiescent life is the kind of life that I really wanted. Whether I'm happy with my existence. Or if I'm proud of the life that I'm living.

I may not have stepped out of the ordinary just yet but there's one thing in me that holds true.

I AM PROUD TO BE ME.

I take pride in my work, in my actions, and in my words. I take pride in my deeds, in my promises, and in my thoughts. I take pride in my sexuality, in my identity, and in my personal choices. I take pride in the life that I chose to live. And I take pride in the actions that pave the way for becoming the person that I am now.

I may not have been there in the parade wearing costumes and wings and masks. I may not have been there organizing the floats, or arranging the crowd. And definitely not there sashaying with nothing on but my jockstraps (not that I have any) and heels.

But yes, I am proud.

And no one can stop me now.

And you, what have you done today to make you feel proud?

Happy Pride Day, Everyone!

*Images from Showtime's Queer as Folk.

Dare You To Move

It seems as if if we're ever given a chance to become somebody else, all of us would have definitely something in mind.

At least that is what each of my colleagues have been trying to confirm.

I didn't expect, however, that their answers would neither involve becoming rich or becoming famous as I have previously thought.

For instance, one of my friends wanted to become a better mother, while the other, a better provider for his family. The other guy wanted to become a rock star while the next guy, a CNN reporter.

As for me, I wanted to become an Olympic gymnast, a diver, or a writer, whichever sounds more facetious.

Just kidding.

I couldn't help but wonder why people tend to exist and live in a world that does not afford them the fulfilment of their desires. Why haven't they pursue their dreams, actualize their vision, and realize their Personal Legends?



I guess it’s the convenience of the present, the fears of the unknown, or the complacency of the right now that prevents them from doing so, for now, I could only guess.

I spent a few minutes asking myself the previous question: if I could be somebody else, who would I want to become?

And then it occurred to me. When I was younger I thought that in becoming filthy rich I could attain happiness, or in extreme physical perfection I could find true love, or in extreme success I could find contentment.

But at 22, I definitely know what I actually longed for.

And that is wisdom.



I might have done several mistakes in my past and He knows that I've been burned several times, but if there's something I'm really thankful for, it's for the wisdom that I have gathered throughout the ages. I might have been a fool several times in my past, but in that foolishness I seem to have found myself. And for that I'll be thankful.

Then I was reminded of this message an old friend sent me and I have kept in my inbox for the longest time:

"Never let the things you want...

Make you forget the things you already have."

And suddenly, this too, has passed.

*Images from postsecret and flickr.

Everybody's Changing

No dave, I haven’t given up on writing… yet.

It’s been six months since my last actual post, and ever since I’ve left, it feels as if things haven’t really changed at all. I’m still me. The quasi-philosophical, self-absorbed, self-proclaimed intellectual who believe that I still am capable of greatness. The dreamer, who, despite having all the means of achieving my ambitions, opt to exist in the status quo. The fighter who keeps on preparing for my battles but quivers with fear upon the sight of my enemies. And the lover who, uhm, well… loves everyone.

But still, a man with an incredible heart.



I’m keeping this entry short, but this I assure you, my readers, old and new alike, that I, just like the old me, will be here to stay.

And yes, I’m definitely back.

Dust In The Wind

Don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky.
It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy.

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind.
Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind.

*

Thank you for waiting.

Now, I'm back.

Song For The Lonely

Today, I guess, is my birthday!

Happy Birthday, Ruff.

Always Come Back To Your Love

Can we really get over our first loves?

I was a freshman college then and love (or sex, for that matter) is something extremely unbeknownst to me.

I told *him (a very good friend) that I’m going to get my cherry popped by the time I finish my first year of college.

And surprisingly, it did happen.

Even more surprising, I did it with him (okay, okay, I’m a whore).



And it was not a spur-of-the-moment thing. It happened again. And again and again.

I was confused as hell back then because that was my first serious relationship with a person of the same sex. Career changes made it impossible for us to pursue that what might-have-been a perfect relation.

We parted ways and moved on. But recently, thoughts of him haunt me during my cold solitary nights. After four years, I still kept on asking myself, “Will I be strong enough to see him again and not be drawn by everything that has transpired between the two of us?”

Yes I might be younger back then, but at such a younger age, I already knew what I wanted and am determined enough to make it all happen.

He had been with many men, and so did I.

But if there’s that slightest chance of us, being back together, then I thought that I would risk everything, life and limb included, to prove that, no matter how sappy it might sound, I’d always come back to his love.



Recently, I have been moonlighting as a private duty nurse to a patient who was admitted to our hospital but was discharged a few months ago.

His room was darn freaking cold that private nurses have to wear at least three layers of clothing or suffer the risk of frostbite.

My patient was asleep then (it was 2 am) and a generic message entered my inbox.

It was him.

*

To be continued…

Reflection

i asked God for strength that i might achieve;

i was made weak that i might learn humbly to obey:

i asked for health that i might do great things;

i was given infirmity that i might do greater things:



i asked for riches that i might be happy;

i was given poverty that i might be wise:

i asked for power that i might have the praise of men;

i was given weakness that i might feel the need of God:



i asked for all things that i might enjoy life;

i was given life that i might enjoy all things:

i got nothing that i asked for but everything that i hoped for;

almost despite myself my unspoken prayers were answered:

i am among all men most richly blest.

*

(Seen at the Apolinario Mabini Rehabilitation Center of the UST Hospital.)

I'm Coming Out

For the first time in my life, I was actually offended for being touted as "gay."

And someone calling me "gay" is something I find to be demeaning, shameful, and blatantly crude.

I have never told my colleagues that I am queer. Apart from a very few trusted ones who knew about my sexuality, I actually find no valid reason to profess my queerness to everyone I am working with.

Plus the fact that the news might spread like uncontrollable wildfire scares the hell out of me (cf. Grey's Anatomy).

It's just that I think that my sexuality has absolutely nothing to do with me performing my duties as a nurse, and likewise, me being gay, has absolutely nothing to do with my work. I wouldn't change a thing -- my bedside manners, my competency and skills, my behaviour towards my patients and colleagues, etc. -- based on the premise that I am out, or otherwise.

Hi! My name is Ruff, and I'll be your sex slave, er, nurse for today.

When an irate moribund patient's relative referred to me as "that gay nurse," I was utterly infuriated that I could feel my cerebral blood vessels throb simultaneously with my heartbeat.

Me: "Excuse me ma'am what did you just say?"
Whore: "I was calling your attention because you left mama unattended while blah blah (continues with justifications which have actually nothing to do with my work)..."
Me: "I've heard that you called me "gay.""
Whore: "Oh (stumbles with pointless explanations very well dismissible in a court of law...)"
Me: "I thought you have a problem with me being "gay" as your mum's nurse." (Then went back to the station hoping that nobody ever heard everything that has transpired).

*

I have always told my closest friends that the reason why I haven't "out-ed" myself yet is that nobody dares to ask me personally. I find it pointless to just indiscriminately spill the beans or premeditatedly come to work in pink boots and butt-fitting pants just to show them my true self. Just like medical histories, you'll never get to actually know anything about a person unless you ASK.

But then again, I was contemplating as to whether I should say "YES, I AM GAY" if somebody would actually have the guts to ask me, or I would perpetually remain inside the closet and vehemently reply, "ME, GAY? NO WAY?" with much gusto and passion.

And yup, I was giggling (like you) as I was reading what I just last wrote.

But I'd give that old prude props for having the guts to call me "gay." Her gay-dar was impeccable she almost left me speechless for a minute.

If she could actually see right through me, could everybody else be far behind?

Or had they known about it all along?

Now that's a point I haven't even thought at all.

Should I get OUT or NOT? You decide. :-)

Hello

Sing me this song...

And I'll be yours forever.

*

M. J.,

I want to tell you that I have grown.

I no longer have to tell mom and dad that I’m going to Aldrin’s house for a thesis all-nighter just to be with you.

I no longer have braces, and you know what that means.

I’m now earning my own salary and we could now pay the rent for our humble, but erogenous, abode.

I no longer have to wait late night after your law school ‘cause my shift always ends late.

We could (again) shower together to save on those water bills.

Remember those scrubs that you love? And my usual scrub top and briefs ensemble? You could always see me wearing it, all the time.

Remember that time when we're almost caught doing something at that posh club at The Fort?

And lastly… I can call you hubby again.

And as always, I’ll be your baby forever.

*

Hello… is it me you’re looking for?

*

Pardon the overwhelming ambiguities. Too much serotonin cruising my vasculature right now, and yeah, sleeplessness, too.

Go The Distance / The World's Greatest

Here I am. 1 in the morning. It’s my day off and I’m wasting precious sleeping time staring at that bright star (or is that Venus) glistening beside the crescent moon (Sailor Moon is that you) while reminiscing the past 21 years of my life.

When I was younger I always think that I’m destined for greatness. That someday I could find a cure for AIDS or devise the means to end poverty or bring that elusive world peace to reality or become an eponym for a medical procedure or a disease, like Ruff-du-Jour’s Syndrome or Ruff-the-Unbearable Maneuver.

But here I am. 1 in the morning, wasting my day off and wandering why I fail to be that person I so dream of.



I turned my iPod on, clicked Shuffle, and there plays Michael Bolton’s “Go The Distance.”

Okay I’m just bluffing. It actually played Mary J. Blige’s “Be Without You” but typing Bolton makes this post sound a bit facetious.

As a nurse, my days evolve around my professional life in the hospital and my almost non-existent personal life which I could sum up into two words: eating, sleeping.

Like an epiphany of some sorts, stuffs miraculously perfuse into my head and slowly converted into words to fill this blog that could be easily categorized as “Archived” or “Abandoned” due to my neglect and inattention.

And on that note, here are twenty realizations (originally two-thousand and eight) for the past twenty years of my life.

(1) I, actually, am a good person. Very good person.

(2) I am not a composite of Meredith Grey, or John Dorian, or Carrie Bradshaw, or Elle Woods, or any other fictional character into any fictitious show that deludes me into the belief that they’re “just playing my life.”

There’s no point in me imagining that my life will take a Grey’s Anatomy turn of events because I'm not Meredith Grey. I'm more like George O’Malley, if anything, but the truth is I am my own character writing my own story.

I have a life of my own. And I am real. I am better than Grey, Dorian, Bradshaw, Woods, McDreamy, and so much more. I am Ruff. And I'll be great.

(3) My ideal guy is just around the corner, and sooner or later, he’ll get to find me. It’s just that we’re both busy chasing our dreams that our lovelives is a little haywire. After some readjustments of goals, he’ll come to me, and we’ll live happily ever after.



(4) But I would then buy my own car before that happens. Public transport just wouldn’t do.

(5) I could not believe how many people died during my stay in the Intensive Care Unit. Five died under my care (but not due to my negligence thank you very much), and I could recall their names, their faces, and their life histories.

P.M., F.A., A.B.L., N.B. and E.C., requiescat in pace.

(6) I, however, saved a thousand more.

And I’m not being too pompous when I said that.

(7) Regarding the previous statement, seeing people walk out of the hospital alive is the reason why I keep holding on to my job. Sleepless nights and all, body pains, infections and all, being unappreciated and all, I do *freaking love what I do.

(8) I am loved by many people. And I love many people. This alone makes me special.

(9) I may have plenty, but I am not the sum total of all my failures.

(10) I already know who and what are important. I just have to keep reminding myself of them.

(11) By default, I am destined to kill somebody (job-related or otherwise).

(12) No amount of treadmill, protein shakes, bench presses and yoga sessions could compensate for the fact that I love to eat. I know, I know, that my obsession to Starbucks, Jollibee, Big Mac, Yellow Cab, TGIF, Cheesecakes etc., and Bubba Gump is deleterious to my health.

(14) It’s actually easy to be happy.

Most of my unhappiness stems from being too conscious about how I come off to other people. And all my happy moments are the times when I simply did not care.



(15) I am the best there is at what I do.

(16) There's no point in thinking that people, including myself, will get what we deserve. Mostly because we have no right to judge what, exactly, people deserve.

(17) Maganda pala ako. (Trans: I am actually beautiful.)

(18) And in line with that, I don't need someone else to validate my good looks. Normally when I wish for such validation they come in the form of condescending remarks coming from people trying to ask personal favours from me or ill-spelled private messages from people who've seen my friendster, facebook or g4m profile. That kind of validation I do not need. And besides, if I cannot find myself attractive how can I expect anyone of reasonable taste and intelligence to do so?

(19) I still believe that I’m destined to do great things.

(20) This is supposed to be my hundredth post but since I suck at: (1) math, (2) remembering dates, and (3) finding time to write, I missed the momentous event. Well, it’s still memorable naman. My 101st.

(21) Twenty-one is not a time for a quarter-life crisis, or for any kind of crisis. This is the time where I've got life by the balls. This is the most empowered I have ever been. At sixteen I may have thought I could conquer the world. At eighteen I may have thought I had the legal licence to do so. At twenty I felt that now I had the right to go nuts all over the world. But now is really the time where my life and my decisions and the resulting consequences are truly my own. I should always remember that, and live according to that truth.

*

In an emo fit I once yelled, “Twenty-one and what am I doing with my life?”

Well, I'll tell you.

I'm living it.

Images from here.

You Think You're A Man

Brian: We're queer. We don't need marriage. We don't need the sanction of dickless politicians and pederast priests. We fuck who we want to, when we want to. That is our God-given right.

Michael: But it is also our God-given right to have everything that straight people have. Because we're every bit as much human as they are.

As a cynic, I have always believed that nothing lasts forever. And that includes human relationships. Eventually, in one way or the other, everything is doomed to fail. Everything will perish. Everything will end.

But that’s just me.

*

Like Mandaya and Kiks, I have to confess that I’m in a serious relationship right now…

With my work, that is.

Oftentimes I’m asked as to why I’m not in a commitment right now. Now that I’m earning my own salary, paying for my own finances, and am surreptitiously in an opportune time to mind my own career aside from the one I have at patients’ bedsides. Every time I encounter that annoying question, I always have one straight and sweet answer:

“Work is my priority as of the moment.”

Work has always been my guilt-free pass for almost everything. Missed social rendezvous? Because of work. Going to the gym? Sorry, I have work. My 8-hour-sleep-minimum? Got to wake up early due to work. No boyfriend right now? Too busy with work.

But this post’ve got nothing to do with work. Rather, it is about relationships.

It is a known fact that I’ve been to too many one in my past, and for being burned *that many times, I’m blissfully and eternally grateful that I am still alive. It, however, theoretically didn’t and won’t stop me from pursuing one, because as a human being, I do have that innate need to love and be loved.

I want someone who will truly understand me and the person underneath me. I need someone who will accept the real me and will unconditionally love me despite my weaknesses and flaws. I long for someone who will take care of me, who will share with my joys and pains, and of course, who will do me every time I got the occasional itch.

Just kidding.

My last three (failed) relationships taught me three important things in life: 1) long distance relationships are doomed to fail eventually: 2) honesty is still the best policy even in relationships: and 3) learn to love yourself first.

Those mistakes, however, practically hindered me from venturing out into the woods again. Because I’m still here in this freaking cold, forsaken crossroad, searching and looking which way affords the easy relief.

By now it should appear to everyone that I really don’t what the hell I’m talking about.

So let me go back to my previous postulate, that, everything is doomed to fail.

But then, there’s that something that breaks away from the mold. Something far from ordinary. Something that’ll stand out among the rest.

And that thing is your relationship with yourself.

For as long as you know that you are at peace with yourself, no man, no shit, no dickless homophobes, and no bitter ex-lovers would deter you from being the best person that you could ever be.

And that is what man to man relationship essentially means.

Right?

One Moment In Time

Finally the Christmas and New Year hype is over.

That, probably, is the understatement of the year as I celebrated both overly momentous occasions within the confines of the Intensive Care Unit.

In fact, I’m just starting with my Holiday shopping, starting with buying some presents for myself, a few more for my very few loved ones, and a bit some for my even fewer godchildren.

In fact I couldn’t even imagine how my almost nonexistent paycheck could extend, morph or warp into something that could afford me this, this, or this.









On the other hand, working in a hospital gives you that guilt-free pass for not showing up with your pesky albeit cute godchildren, nieces, nephews, cousins, etc. or whoever believes that the gift-giving Christmas tradition must be impeccably honored.

Anyways.

The year that was reminds me so much of several things:

1. That if Britney would die and reincarnate, the reincarnation would be me;
2. That I was making small steps in my way of making my dreams come true;
3. That spending time with a loved one is exhilarating, but surviving alone through those cold, lifeless nights is more fulfilling, and;
4. That despite how much fulfilled we think we are, there, inevitably, will be some regrets that will haunt us forever.

For instance:



I was that Whitney.

But eventually I am going to marry my own Bobby Brown, waste my money buying crack cocaine, and spend my days watching my own personal videos in youtube, or xtube, or wherever.

So for this year, I only have one personal wish.

That I will live my life without regrets. I will be ruthless and unforgiving. I will be bold, and brazen, and remorseless. I will never ask for anyone’s approval. I will live my life the way I feel. And for this year, I will be the best me.

And I’m starting it now.

Happy New Year everyone!

I'll Be Home For Christmas

I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me

Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents under the tree

Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams

I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams...

I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams.