Gossip Girl: Teenage Dream (I)

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Previously:
Where Time Stands Still
A Decade After (I)
A Decade After (II)




When the summer heat fades and the rains start to fall, we all know it's time for Kane's birthday. But overnight, our favorite blonde birdie has turned into a brooding chap. What's responsible for this metamorphosis? Or should I say, "who"?

From what we hear, it's Kane and Neil: Happily Never After. They say parting is such sweet sorrow, but wouldn't it be nice if just for once it didn't have to be?



"Hey K!!! You've been awfully quiet the whole week," Carlo texted me.

"I am quiet =)," I replied.

"Ahhh. How are you? Everything okay?"

"I'm okay C. As good as can be expected, I guess."



In the weeks that followed since Neil left, Greek Prime Minister George Papandreou won a vote of confidence from lawmakers, easing concern the European nation would default on its debt. Storms battered the Philippines, causing floods and damaging crops and houses. Adele secured a seventh week at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 with her song "Rolling in the Deep" while Gossip Girl star Blake Lively and Leonardo DiCaprio were spotted hanging out more and more often.

 

And as for me, I resumed work apologizing for the days of absence. Fran and I took a little trip to Iloilo to visit old churches, and I went back to hanging out and clubbing with my friends. Life was slowly returning back to normal.

 

Or so it seemed.

Little may have changed on the surface but I would be at the grocery buying milk, some cans of tuna, a bottle of vodka, perhaps some detergent and toothpaste and I'd see a couple laughing and teasing as they make their way into the aisles. And then a thought would come unbidden into my head. That could have been us. And I'd squash the idea quickly, vowing never to entertain such notions.

I immersed myself at work, and I'm doing better than ever. I had an excellent review, I'm being asked to write more and more regional and global stories, and I received news my company might send me to cover the ASEAN foreign ministers meeting in Bali next month. Perhaps it is true; when your personal life goes up in smoke, it's time for a promotion at work.

I fucked a boy; the moans, grunts and motions matched the script, but it felt like I was an actor acting out a role. And not a very good one at that. I remember that kiss and I knew I was using sex as a tool to blunt the edge of that memory.

Will I ever forget, I wondered? Or will I compare every other kiss with that one for the rest of my life?


 

It was raining horrendously one night and I was at home listening to Katy Perry sing "Let's go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love".  Ahhhh, to feel like a teenager again. My birthday was approaching and the music was making me feel dreamy and nostalgic.I suddenly missed being young, beautiful and carefree. Now all I feel is old, scarred and weary.

There I was, deep in thought when suddenly I saw an email from Neil land in my mailbox. An email? From him? We had spoken briefly once and that was just to check that he got home safely.

 

And then I saw the subject.

Blog.



Those four-letter words stared at me and I stared back as my eyes slowly filled with fear.



Oh my fuckin' God! He read the story. How did that happen? Neil doesn't read my blog except the few times I told him to, when there were stories I wanted to share. I never meant for him to read about what I did and how I felt for him; it wasn't supposed to happen this way.

I stood up and paced the room back and forth, I was nervous and I didn't know what to do. Why did he write? What did the email say? I was deathly afraid of the answer.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally summoned enough courage to open his letter.

 

I read it. You finally wrote me down.

I remember and know everything we did that night. On my part, they were all deliberate actions although I know I wouldn't have done those without the help of alcohol, of course.

I tried to tell you that I love you once, and you shut me up before I can even get those words out... and now, I can't seem to say them at all.

Kane, I can never be so drunk that I do not know what I am doing. That being said, I knew everything that was going on in Boracay that night. I could've stood up walked to the shore with you and have a perfectly sane conversation ... but I didn't.

Because a lot went through my head after that night we kissed. A lot.

I almost wanted to whisk you off to Toronto. But I don't think you'd like that. I'd marry you but you'd probably resent that eventually.

I don't know what I want to achieve with this letter. I really don't.

But you wrote me down and I thought I'd write you down as well, although I won't have readers for this one, well, you're my target audience anyway. So.

You do know that I love you, right?

But you and I are like that card that Sandy has; the one where this guy is sitting on a tree stump. The tree is growing under the earth, the roots are spreading, but since there's this fat ass sitting on the stump, it can't grow outwardly. Guess who that fat ass is.

Love,
Neil

 



My mind was reeling in shock. Oh God ... Can this be real?






The problem with fairy tales is that they set a girl up for disappointment. In real life, the Prince goes off with the evil stepsister. The Princess kisses a frog and it remains, well ... a frog. Or the spell wears off and two lovers realize they're better off as friends.

But I'll confess. Every once in a while, a girl craves for a fairy tale ending. So go ahead K, blow out that candle. Looks like you just had a wish come true.





XOXO



To be continued ...
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Mercy

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Previously:
Gossip Girl: The Gift That Keeps on Giving
When The Kingdom Falls


The bar was crowded when I got in. Europeans sporting their blonde hair, blue eyes and dark tans were laughing and dancing amid the usual Filipino tourists, a Brazilian guy who works in Hong Kong as a model, and the local boys and girls gyrating and trying to seduce the visitors. For a fee, of course.

It was hot and humid, and after a while I started to sweat so I went to the restroom to fix up when a guy suddenly started chatting with me.

"Hey, how come you weren't dancing?" he asked. He was looking at me with a crooked grin on his face. His face was red; from the heat or the alcohol I wasn't certain, but judging by the way he slurred his speech, it probably was the alcohol.

"Ahhh, I'm just a little tired I guess," I replied.

"Sa guapo mong yan, hindi bagay sa iyo ang nakaupo (With your good looks, it doesn't suit you to be just sitting in a corner)," he said. "Kanina pa kita nakita eh. Ang guapo. (I noticed you earlier. You're so cute.)"

"Ano ka ba, sus, lasing ka lang (You're just drunk)," I told him. I was getting embarrassed.

"By the way, I'm Nelson," he introduced himself. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.

"Uhhhmmm… no," I replied.

"Puede mag apply?(Can I apply?)" he said.

"Uhhhh…" I stammered.

"Shit… ang corny ko."



Some guys were coming inside the restroom so I excused myself to go back to the party. After a while, we bumped into each other again just before I was about to leave.

"Ano? Mag-isa lang ako sa room ko ngayon (I have a room all by myself)," Nelson said. "Diyan lang, malapit lang (It's just near)."

"Ano ka ba (Come on)," I said. "Relax ka lang (Relax)."

"Sige na (Please?)," he pleaded. "Wala kang gagawin. Hihiga ka lang (You don't have to do anything. You just need lie down)."

And there it was, another offer for a mercy fuck. I suddenly remembered how the last time it happened, I became the most despised man in this side of the world.

I was getting stressed by the situation. I wanted to decline politely without embarrassing him.

"Ano ka ba, lasing ka lang at pagod na kasi ako (You're just drunk and I'm really tired man)," I said.

He slowly nodded, with a defeated look on his face.

"Ang hirap talaga pag pangit no? (It's really hard when you're ugly)" he suddenly blurted out. "Walang nagkakagusto sa iyo (Nobody likes you)."

I stared at him with my mouth slightly open, stunned by what he said. But Nelson was right. He was far from goodlooking, it would be a stretch to even call him plain or homely. And then I understood; he was used to this, to being rejected, undesired, unwanted. But what can I do?

"Come on, there are many other guys out there," I said, trying to lighten the mood and cheer him up.

He smiled. "Yeah, but they don't want me," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you see Kane? Everybody wants someone like you."

No, not everyone, I wanted to tell him. Everybody feel this way, sometimes.

He turned around, about  to leave when he suddenly turned back to face me. "Can I have a kiss on the cheek?" he asked.

I nodded. He gave me a tight hug and a quick peck. I hugged him back. I hoped it would be enough. I could still feel how sad and lonely he was and I wanted to say something, anything to comfort him. I felt helpless against his hopelessness. "Hey Nelson, you know..."

"It's okay Kane. Don't worry. Sanay na ako," he said. "I'm used to this."

Then he was gone.
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A Decade After (II)

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Previously: A Decade After (I)

There are moments that mark us forever, and I knew this was one of them. Change was coming. I knew that I will return from that island a different man. After tomorrow, whatever happens, things will never be the same again, that I understood.

"And when is this historic flight, Amelia?" Rudeboy asked me.

"Tomorrow, at dawn," I replied. "Wish me luck?"

"The same to you, 
But I can't regret what I did for love, 
what I did for love."

"Ahhhh Rudeboy... What we did for love, indeed," I said. "Somehow, I think I know how you feel right now. Like you're watching something you've seen before."

"Au contraire mon ami. I'm actually uncharacteristically rooting for romance this time," he said wistfully.

"Ahhh… love will be the death of us, Rudie," I said, shaking my head.

"Fly with my fondest hopes Kane," he said.



That night, I hardly slept a wink. My mind was filled with troubled thoughts and strange emotions. The ghosts in my head were teasing me, taunting me.

"What will you tell him?"
"How will you tell him?"
"What if he says no?"

What I was planning to do was dangerous. I knew neither of us was really ready; that the timing wasn't perfect. Neil was still hurting from his divorce, I knew that. Sometimes when I look at him I ask myself: where is it, that thing inside of you, cutting you, where is it?

 
 
"How did you do it?" he asked me once.
 
"Do what?"

"Forgive Manuel."

I thought carefully what to say.

"Well, I did it because ayokong malugi (I didn't want to be on the losing end). Sometimes, we think that by holding on to the anger and the pain, we are hurting the other person," I answered slowly. "But in truth, we are only hurting ourselves."

"Manuel could be perfectly happy and here I am, still an angry and bitter man. I didn't want to be that kind of person," I continued. "So I let go. And the irony is, it is when we let go that we truly become free."

"Mabuti ka pa. (You are fortunate). I'm not yet okay Kane," he quietly said, looking at me.

"It's okay Neil," I said. "It's okay. You'll get there."

 
 
The flight was delayed so I arrived at the island almost noon. There I was, my backpack in one hand, my heart in another. This is it, I told myself.
 
I texted Neil, but he didn't respond. Ahhh, he could be swimming and left his phone in his room, I said to myself. I walked around to get some food. I tried calling him again after an hour, but there was still no response. I was getting worried.

Where is he? Why is he ignoring me? He knew I was coming to see him.

Finally, someone did pick up. Neil had left his phone in his house before going to the airport, the woman said. Was there any way I could contact him? I asked. No, there isn't, she said.

 
 

I suddenly realized the gargantuan almost impossible nature of the task facing me. I had to find Neil by literally walking all over the island in the hopes that I would bump into him. There was no other choice.

So I walked. And walked. And walked. I walked for hours, I walked nonstop. My feet were tired, my body sore, but I forged on.

And then dusk came. It was heartbreaking. I was exhausted, worried, and I still haven't seen him. Where is he? The sun begun its slow descent into the night sky; and as the heavens turned purple and orange, I felt it was as if the sunset was stealing the very last rays of my hope.

The island was plunged into darkness and I could no longer see afar. My chances of finding him became slimmer and slimmer. Where is Fate when you needed her?

I decided to rest for awhile before looking for him again that night. It was the only remaining chance I have of seeing him and talking to him. He was leaving tomorrow.

It was past midnight when I walked out to check the local clubs and bars. And then I saw him. My heart jumped.

I approached him but there was something wrong. And then I saw that Neil was completely wasted, drunk. He was incoherent. I wasn't even sure he recognized me. I begun to panic.

Fate can't be this cruel; to bring us so close together only to tear us apart. No, Neil cannot be drunk. I needed to tell him something, didn't I? I tried to revive him.

"Neil… are you okay? Huy," I pleaded.

He stared back at me with his glassy eyes, squinting once in a while. But he wouldn't respond. He was dead to my cries. After a while, his friends carried him off to bed.

I never saw him again.






There comes a time when warriors lose a battle. Defeat comes to us at some point in our lives. More and more, I have come to regard it as an old enemy, always there to snatch my happiness away.

Some might say what I did was foolish. Perhaps. Some will say maybe it wasn't the right time. Perhaps. Some will say it may never have been meant to be. Perhaps.

I stood at the shore as the island slowly came to life. Early birds were rushing to swim at the sea, hungry lovers walking the shore in search of a delicious breakfast. The sun had risen, a new day has begun. But inside, I felt like something died. Hope withers... again.



And then Fran texted.

"Hun, while this didn't turn out to be the pleasant surprise we hoped it would be, it still is a surprise... At how much you can feel for a boy after all these years, at how much courage you have walking the shores of Boracay in search of a hint of a promise, and how much strength you have to rise above the circumstance.

You might not have gotten your fairy tale ending. But honey, you are the fairy tale. Because it is not how the story ends that makes the tale. It is how it goes on and on and on...."

I broke down.

"Oh Fran, when did you get so wise?" I told her while sobbing.

"Hush hun. Sige lang. Just let it out. There will be another time," she said, comforting me.

The weight of my loss came crashing down on me. I cried for all the dreams that may never be. For all the times I fought for love and lost. Lagi na lang bang ganito? (Is it always this way?)

I was spent. Neil was gone, leaving me behind with all this love for him inside of me and no one to give it to. I don't know when I will see him again. Five years? Three years?

Crushed and defeated, there was only one thing left to do.

"It's time to go home, old timer," I said to myself. "Time to go home."
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Spit Roast: The Mysterious Lady From The Bukid (Barrio)

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In February this year, the world was stunned when the mysterious lady from the barrio vanished leaving behind only these solemn words "And she lived happily ever after. Alone."

Her millions of fans panicked. Where did she go? Why did she leave?

Rumors were flying around and people were gossiping; did she get depressed over her ex lover? Perhaps she found a new one and eloped with him? Where in the world is she? Nobody knew the answers so I decided to pack my bag and hiked to the countryside to find her.

Lo and behold, I did, and luckily, I was able to persuade her to sit down with me for an interview.



It was my first Spit Roast with Rudeboy that led me to the blog of this writer who spins funny, sometimes touching, and often poignant stories about life in the barrio. As someone who lives and writes about life in the city, her stories were an eye-opener about how different and enchanting gay life can be in the province with their beauty contests, and straight boyfriends, picnics by the river and basketball games.

I backread every single one of her stories. Yep, that's more than two hundred tales she has written since 2007. She writes about lovers and friends, but if you're observant you would notice that this writer rarely reveals herself. We only see her through the eyes of the characters in her stories, and it is through this that we come to get to know her. But always, it is like seeing a lady through a veil.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you … Mandaya Moore.



Why do you blog? When did you open your first blog and how long did you keep it? In one of your entries, you said you closed it because someone revealed your identity.

It started with two journalist-friends who tried to convince me to blog. There were bloggers too. I initially said no because I didn’t know what to blog about.

But the thought of being able to write in literary form again excited me. After days of thinking about it, I gave in. And Mandaya Moore was born in 2006.

I didn't have any audience then. One day, Las Tres Estrallas mentioned me in their blog and linked me. I won the comment of the month contest thrice. Thanks to them, I gained traffic.

Why did you focus on life in the bukid?

I didn’t want to write about my politics or work. Other than those two things, there’s nothing else except my life in the bukid.

What's the story behind your blog name?

Davao Oriental, the bukid is home to the Mandaya tribe.

And? Are you connected to that tribe?

Does fucking a Mandaya man count ba?

Hahaha. I guess it could. So tell us how you closed your first blog.

It was an accident. Kulot’s ex read it, commented and even mentioned my real name. My plan was to delete her comment. I clicked the “delete blog” button, instead. Everything’s lost. No back up files. I don’t write drafts. Now, I do comment moderation.

Lesson learned huh. Why did you blog again? Was it because you wanted to write about your relationship with Kulot?

While Mandaya Moore was on “vacation,” I opened another blog — Maui Pacquiao — just a few posts. But it wasn’t the same as Mandaya’s. Maui had a different set of friends, it was about city life.

While I was Maui Pacquiao, I traveled around Mindanao and wrote about the places I'd been to. Then some friends who didn't know I had a blog started telling me to check Mandaya Moore's blog. A Baguio City-based friend, who's a multiple Palanca winner, wrote a tribute to Mandaya on his blog. He also didn't know I was Mandaya.

That's when I realized people actually read my blog. I had to go back to blogging as Mandaya. So it wasn't because of Kulot.

I became Mandaya Moore - Orlis. I returned to blogging with a hyphen - my way of explaining why I did not write for months. I had gotten married. We went on a honeymoon. We tried to have a baby.

Ahhhhh. What happened? Did you have difficulty conceiving?

I wasn't anatomically prepared.

Oh. That must have been quite a surprise. (Grins) Do you remember the most significant/memorable blog post you've ever read?

That would be from the The Red Horse Gallops. It was about a guy who prepared an anniversary dinner and waited for his lover who never arrived. I think the lover had a motorcycle accident or something like that.

But I've since stopped reading that blog. It is now closed.

What is the most significant/memorable blog post you've ever written?

Two posts in the old blog. “Leche Flan,” which included a recipe on how to cook it.

At that time Kulot and I broke off. It was the day before the town fiesta and there were orders for leche flan. He volunteered to cook it in his mother’s house. As he was leaving, I reminded him of our secret on how to make “melts-in-your-mouth” leche flan. Slow fire and patience. And I thought it was also what our relationship needed.

The other would be “Johnny.” It was about me having a drinking session with our friend Johnny, whose five-day old baby had just died. He cried before me and I was thinking who’s feeling worse: “He losing his five-day old baby or me losing my five-year old relationship with Kulot.”

That “Johnny” post got a comment from the great writer Wilfredo Pascual.

I suppose there are no copies left of those two stories. Do you ever consider writing those stories again?

I rewrote the two blog posts for someone who wanted to show them to a filmmaker. I have the rewritten posts (printed form as my MacBook crashed), but never sent them to that person who requested the copies.

Who are your favorite bloggers and why?

1. Mugen --- I would kill for him. The words, the sentences, the paragraphs -- perfect. His topics vary, yet he is still consistenly good.

2. Buquir --- An underrated writer. More people, not just call center agents, should read him. He's really funny.

3. Rudeboy --- because he is Rudeboy.

4. McVie --- Simply one of the best. Gay writing but not the loud kind. I've been reading him for years. We exchanged links only last year. Suplado sya. Hahahaha!

5. Yes, you Kane. You were one of the bloggers I've read outside my so-called "circle." I'm still not through reading back your past posts.

You and Mugen remind me of a journalism professor of mine in college who said writing is the art of choosing, choosing the right word, sentence, paragraph for a story.

Do you read a lot of blogs? I noticed you rarely comment on others peoples' stories so I was wondering if you read only a few blogs.

I used to comment a lot, but only to the “circle of bloggers” that I read when I started blogging. When fellow blogger Kiks started the “Theorgy,” I began reading blogs outside that “circle.”

My fault, I haven’t been going beyond my links. There are a lot of good writers. I felt like I was being rude not to at least have the courtesy of commenting on their blogs or link them back.

What I don’t usually do is comment on a comment on my blog. For me, it’s like reading a book. The author doesn’t answer back to a marginal note written by the reader. This isn’t interactive. But then again it happened several times— the readers’ comments influencing my decisions in life. I may not comment on the comments, but I do read them, I consider them.

Do your friends from the "bukid" read your blog? How do they feel about it?

They do and they are crazy about it. When I’m not around they share their stories, photos. They even want photo-ops for the blog.

Can you share with us what you do for a living? How old are you?

I would be lying if I tell.

Ahhhh... ever the mysterious one. I have read with great fascination your story with Kulot. How are you both now? Are you friends? Do you see each other / talk to each other? Is he still together with the same girl? Is he married? I read your last story about him, and I really loved it. It was so tender.

Kulot is now somewhere in Northern Luzon. We're friends. He regularly texts to say hi. He calls, too. He's no longer with the “Bilat.” They broke up when Kulot was here last December. The reason - Kulot didn't want to give his mobile phone to the suspecting girlfriend. I, the suspecting ex, believe that Kulot didn't want the girl to know that we were texting.

The Bilat, after graduating from high school, now works for a bakeshop. I have since stopped buying bread from that bakeshop.

Do you still think of him, sometimes? Do you miss what you had? How do you feel now?

I still do. Good thoughts. Happy thoughts. No regrets. I loved the guy. I probably still do love him.

Ahhh... is he the biggest love of your life (so far)?

Yes he is. But for me, the greatest love of all is easy to achieve. Learning to love your self is the greatest love of all. And if by chance…

Are you currently single?

Nope. I’m having a relationship with my DVD player and “pirated” M2M films. HAHAHA!

Well... I am seeing Bimby -- a 20-year bukid boy. He's too cute for the bukid.

How cute?

Like this.

Oooohhhh. Isn't he rather young? (Grins) What attracts you to a man, the sort you look for in a boyfriend and not just a fling?

He should have this parochial feel. I’m tired of dating men (and most of them are gay) who can’t have a conversation without mentioning “post-modern.”

AHAHAHAHA. You're baddddddd...

I like straight men, not straight-acting gay men.
I like construction workers, tambays, adiks, schoolboys, not from the Ateneo but from colleges that have dilapidated buildings.
I love farmers, fishers, bus drivers, even balut vendors.
I love the AFP. I love the NPA. I’m still trying to hook up with an MILF rebel.

How many "meaningful" romantic relationships have you had?

Your “meaningful” is in quotes. Please expound. Hahaha

Well, hahaha. Relationships that mattered, you know. That changed you.

I had one with a businessman (who made me a kept partner because he was married), a law graduate (he still has not passed the bar), a Shell Philippines engineer (also married) and Kulot. Four.

Have you had a relationship with a gay man?

A lot. Loved them. It’s just that I’m more into straight guys now.

Why is that? Do you think a relationship between a gay man and a straight man can last? I'm curious.

I just got tired being a top so I shifted to being a bottom. HAHAHA!

Kane, dahlin, nothing lasts forever.

Hahahaha. Really? You were a top? Uhm... no, you don't have to answer. (Grins)

As your blog description states, you write a lot about life in the province. And I think that is what fascinates most of your readers who are based in the city. You give us a glimpse of how life is in the barrio.

How different is it being gay in the barrio as compared to being gay in the city?

Life is simple in the bukid. No rush, no traffic, no pollution. We gays there can live with our small earnings from cutting hair, rebond, hair stretching, even eyebrow enhancement.

I can go to the palengke (market) without taking a bath. We have drinking sprees outside a sari-sari store. No dressing up, but definitely fully made up.

In the bukid, we don’t have gay-to-gay relationships. It’s a mortal sin. You won’t receive sacrament if you do that. Why do it with another gay guy when there are straight boys?

Hahaha. Well… sex with gay men is different compared to straight men, right?

An ocean of difference. When a straight man fucks you, you can shout “inangkin nya ako” to the world. When you do it with another gay man, you can shout “nag-angkinan kami” to the world.

When you go to the city, do you go clubbing?

Sometimes. When my sushal friends invite me.

What are your favorite cities and why?

Davao City. Inexpensive. Safe. Clean.
Dapitan City-- boys, beach and bitch (me).

Do you think you'll ever live permanently in a city? Or is your barrio home?

The city is not for me. Too crowded. Too Avril Lavine (Complicated). In fact, I want a bahay kubo for a house.

Do you read your old stories? How do they make you feel?

I do. The old posts make me laugh. And the comments make me laugh even louder. They make me realize that, yes, I can write.

Why do you write in Filipino?

Because I can express better in that language. Let's just say that I'm a frustrated literary writer. I want to join Palanca but never had the guts.

Why did you stop writing? Will you write again? When?

The last post wasn't meant to be the last post. I was planning to introduce an “interactive” kind of blogging. The plan was to have the “mahiwagang shorts” go around blogger-friends and readers who can have their photos taken with the shorts and i'll have it posted on the blog. But then something happened.

In February, we discovered that our father was sick with cancer --- stage 4 prostate cancer. The doctor gave him two years to live. So I became busy with a lot of things.

He's doing fine, for now --- thanks to that uber expensive monthly IV shot for his decompressed spine-- where the cancer cells had spread.

Oh... I am sorry to hear that. I can only imagine what you are going through. It is never easy to take care of a loved one.

Funny thing is that despite having been told that his days are numbered, our father still insists he's a victim of “kulam” (witchcraft). We just let him be with his denial.

What do you think will happen to Mandaya Moore? Will she find her happily ever after?

Mandaya Moore will be back.
 
Happy ever after? That would be a long shot. There should be no timeline for happiness – this will be my first line for my comeback blog post.






Thank you Mandaya for sharing your stories with me, with us. I was really surprised you agreed to an interview. I've always had an impression you were rather... aloof. And I have always been curious about you. I think a lot of us are.

As you may know, every guest gets a chance to ask one question. It can be anything in this world.

Mandaya: What's the one thing you hate about blogging?

Hahahahaha. You bad, bad girl. You could have asked me about the joys blogging gives me, but nooooo... you had to pick the opposite.

Whew. This is a rather difficult one, Mandaya. Hate is such a strong word, but there are certain things about blogging that I find a little uncomfortable. I write very personal stories so sometimes I feel weird that some people really begin to know a lot of information about me.

Don't get me wrong. It was my choice to write the kind of stories I write, but the unavoidable consequence is that some people will recognize me and sometimes I'm surprised by the amount of information they know. I guess there are really observant readers out there, and it can be a little frightening.

To be so naked... so exposed? I guess it is something I have to live with.
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