In Front of the Lens

-
Previously:
Basilan

"So there is no hope for change?" I ask him.

"No", he says. "They're all crooks. What matters is: they're my crooks."

The beach was almost deserted. Earlier, there were locals swimming and it was strange watching them play a ball game in the sea while fully clothed, wearing shirts and shorts. But stranger still were the women clad in burqas while bathing, their eyes, faces and bodies hidden from the world.

I was in Malamawi island located in the southern Philippine province of Basilan. Accompanied by four escorts, we rode a small boat and motorcycles from Isabela to bring us to this place.

It was, indeed, beautiful. By five in the afternoon, the locals have left allowing me to quietly ponder on things. On what I have seen of the province, my conversations with Arnold, the soldier tasked to guard us and keep us safe, the wonder one feels when he travels to distant lands.



In this photo, I am posing. I know I am posing. I want you to know I am posing. As the French philosopher Roland Barthes once said, "In front of the lens, I am at the same time: the one I think I am, the one I want others to think I am, the one the photographer thinks I am, and the one he makes use of to exhibit his art."

It will become part of my History of Looking. "For the Photograph is the advent of myself as other: a cunning dissociation of consciousness from identity."

I want to be primitive, to speak to the empty spaces in each of us. To distill an experience into a single image, a single photograph.
-

Love at First Sight

-
Previously:
Alessandra

"Ahia, I'm here at the hospital now," Shobe said. "My water bag broke. But baka tom pa tong si baby lalabas. (But I think the baby will come out tomorrow.) Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers."

This month, I flew six thousand five hundred miles to meet a special lady for the very first time.

Her name is Alessandra, the daughter of my sister Honeylet. We call her Ali. She is six months old. Her skin is white as snow, her lips red as blood, and her hair black as ebony.

It was love at first sight.

"Who is that strange man I see?

By the Gods, is he related to me?"

-

Basilan

-
Originally written in Facebook on Aug. 9

When you finally arrive, sometimes you discover everything you know about a place is both true and false at once.

Don't tell my mom I went to Basilan, the stronghold of the terrorist group Abu Sayyaf. The last frontier, where only the bold and reckless will go.

Today my friend and I visited a military camp and spoke to soldiers who just had an encounter with the Abu Sayyaf. One of the troops was killed in the firefight. We heard of places like Al-Barka, traveled to Lamitan from Isabela with an army escort. We spoke to local government officials, businessmen.

Peace and order, everyone's screaming for it, dying for it. Some are hopeful about the peace negotiations with the Muslim rebel group MILF and the creation of the Bangsamoro land envisioned to establish peace. Others aren't so. Bangsamoro, ARMM referring to the : they're all the same, one of them said.

"So there is no hope for change?" I ask him.

"No", he says. "They're all crooks. What matters is: they're my crooks."
-

Gossip Girl: Kiss Yesterday Goodbye

-
Previously:
Little Boy Blue
"I stepped up the game. I kissed him again and unbuttoned my jeans a little."



Up and at them Upper Eastsiders! New day, new gossip. Because after all, what happened yesterday is old news. And who cares about that? 

Spotted: Kane canoodling with someone else's lover. Uh oh. Careful K, you might want to wipe that smile off your face 'cause we hear the boyfriend is pretty fucking pissed.



Two months earlier

"Oh my Godddd honey!" I said to Arlan. It was a Saturday morning and I was at a sports fest with friends from work. I was trying without much success to get a guy to notice me.

"One of the organizers looks so cute!!" I squealed. "Ang laki ng arms niya. Parang kayang kaya ka niyang buhatin with one hand. (He has such huge arms. Like he can easily lift you up with just one hand.) I want to introduce myself and tell him, 'Can I touch your arms?'"

"Gaga! Huwag! (Fucker! Don't!) Just say, 'So ... obviously, you work out. San ka nag gy gym? Work out tayo minsan. (Where's your gym? Maybe we can work out together some time.)'"

"Aaaaaaayyyyyyyy," I said as we both burst out laughing.

I did get to meet Jj later on. We were introduced by a common friend. I tried to engage him in a conversation but all he gave were one-word answers. Aaaaaahhh, he's not interested, I told myself ruefully. Such is life, I've learned. We don't always win them all.



But it turned out I did. The next day I was surprised to see he followed me in Facebook. Ah ha! So he did notice me, I said to myself. I was rather pleased. A few days later, I sent a friend request and we later on started chatting.

Jj was smart, engaging. We talked about our interests, the songs, films and writers we like. He told me he loves Herta Müller, Elfriede Jelinek, Thomas Bernhard, Bret Easton Ellis, and Alberto Moravia.

"I have stacks of unread books," he said.

"What was the last book that made you go  'Wow! That's amazing'?" I asked.

"Ah. Woodcutters by Thomas Bernhard," he replied. "It made me feel like I want to disappear too and be a woodcutter"

Wow, a cute guy who actually reads, I mused. It must be my lucky day.

A few days later, I was startled to receive a message.

"This is Jj's boyfriend speaking. I read your chat messages."

Fuck. So he has a boyfriend.

"I am sorry, I didn't know," I said. "I didn't mean any harm."

"I know. But harm was already done."

Pretty soon, it was over. My account was blocked and we stopped communicating with each other.

And so time passed. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months. Until one day ... 

*Beep* I checked my inbox and was surprised to receive a message from Jj. He was asking me how I was, and we talked a little. Carlo was celebrating his birthday that night so I asked him if he would like to go. 

I had work the next day but I wanted to drop by. I always try to make it a point to go to birthday celebrations. I know they mean a lot to people.

Jj and I kept chatting during the party. I teased him that he doesn't dance. He said he needed to be drunk first. I poured him glass after glass of alcohol. We were both filled with tension, or at least I was. I could feel our bodies meld into each other as I reach for my drink, hands briefly touching.

In the middle of the night, Carlo pulled me over. "So ... tell me ... who is heeee?"

"Hahaha. Wala. He's ... a friend," I said casually.

Carlo gave me a disbelieving look. "Come on K. We all know you never just bring a guy to a party. But I like your style: new party, new boy."

We both laughed. "Gago. (Fuck off.) Besides, he has a boyfriend so you know ..."

"Well ... I'm sure you know what you're doing," he told me before going back to chit chat with other guests. "Or do you?" He gave me a knowing look as he waved goodbye.

We were almost home and I was about to drop Jj off. We were both tired, a bit tipsy.

"Hey, it was nice to see you again," I said. I realized I did enjoy the night with him. The thrill, the illicitness of our rendezvous reminded me of 

"So ... do I get a good night kiss?" he suddenly said.

For a second, I was paralyzed with the moral crisis facing me. What do I do? I asked myself. What do I do?

A wise woman once said, in life there are only three kinds of girls. There's the girl you marry, there's the girl the girl you fuck, and the m there's the girl who opened Pandora's box. Now which one are you K? 

XOXO

-

The Doors of Escape

-

This world to her was but a tragic play
She came, saw, dislik'd, and passed away
-----Inscription on a girl's tomb, Southwark Cathedral, London

Two months ago, someone died. To be more precise, she killed herself. I don't know her, only of her because my friend wrote about her death and I read it. Many days have passed, yet I still think of her at times, of people like her.

This is what my friend wrote in Facebook on May 22. It is, perhaps, one of the most beautiful and most horrifying things I have ever read.

So, you leave us, this world, for a place I do not yet wish to discover myself, your heaven or hell, or nirvana, or whatever better place you thought might be more to your soul's liking.

You were only 28. Your mother called you brilliant, moody, frustrated. You said she didn't know the half of it. Well, now she knows the all too tragic whole. 

Your brother was the one who told me, and asked if I had any inkling as to why you did it. I said yes, and reminded him of how I told him so, forwarded to him the email I sent a year and 2 months and 11 days ago, an email I asked permission from you to write, and you said it wouldn't matter, he wouldn't care enough to do anything about it. He did, actually. He called me, and asked to talk about it, I said that he should talk to you, and soon, and I guess that never happened, did it? 

Your brother admitted as much. He said he didn't talk to you about it because he didn't know what to say. He still doesn't.

Your family wants me to go to your memorial service. I said no, I don't do funerals. If I could help it I wouldn't even attend mine. I suppose in that sense I wouldn't be there, as I'd be dead. Like you are.

Your dad asked for me to do your eulogy, because "the way she talked about you, parang kilalang-kilala mo sya. (It seemed like you really, really knew her.) The days after she went to you, she was really happy" - and I asked if that was what he wanted, to remember you as happy.

Thing is, you weren't. It's why you offed yourself, right? 

Now, why would I want to eulogize about someone who couldn't stand life to the point she killed herself? I don't want to, because you don't deserve anything after this, what I write.

You made your choice, and everyone you leave behind in your wake will have to live with that, including myself, and I choose to rid my memory banks of you, so I will not be riddled with night terrors, waking nightmares, sadnesses brought about by the failure of showing you the brilliance that I did see in you, the beauty of your fractured soul that you did not have the strength to fulfill. 

You blind, tragic woman, you failure at life, you sweet sweet idiot. Wherever you are, I hope you never have peace.

In his book The Name of the Wind, Patrick Rothfuss talked about the four doors of escape people use to cope with pain.

First is the door of sleep. As most of us know, sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. It allows us some distance from things that have hurt us. When we feel extreme physical or emotional pain, we often fall unconscious, the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.

Second is the door of forgetfulness. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep too heal quickly as I'd like to believe. Oftentimes, the mind stores painful memories behind this door, the ones we are unable to face yet. As the film The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind shows, "How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot."

Third is the door of madness. At times, the mind is dealt such a blow it creates a new world to hide from the old one. And in this new reality, we can be free of our suffering. Free.

And last is the door of death. The final escape.



Tonight the rains have come and I think of the dead girl, her family, the people she left behind. I don't know her, I don't know her name. I've never met her. Yet I cannot forget. How could they? Does suffering beget more suffering? Did she finally find peace? Too many questions, too little time.
-

Sunday Nights

-

Originally written in Facebook on July 7



It's a quiet Sunday night and I'm drinking a glass of wine before I sleep, reading what people have written today in Facebook. I see a girl talking about wanting to change, a man celebrating his newfound love, a mother telling a funny story about her daughter, a girl posting photos from a party last night.

It warns my heart, these little updates that allow me a glimpse of my friends' lives. Their joys and sorrows.

Yesterday, I witnessed a man and a woman marry each other. Weddings always make me feel sentimental. It's one of the most beautiful things in this world, I think.

Today, I bumped into a friend and I found out he broke up with his boyfriend. Hearts get broken every day, some might say. Still, I know it’s not easy.

"Hay ... I'm sorry to hear about what happened," I text him.

"Thanks Kane," he says. "I had to cut my losses. Got tired of getting disappointed. Something to talk about someday."

Someday, the word echoes in me. Perhaps one day, we'll be gathered around each other and perhaps by then, he'll be sporting his old jolly self.

"I'm confident as I'll be having you as my inspirational guide," he tells me.

"Oh honey. I'm certain you're more manageable in matters of the heart. I always fumble and stumble."



Longing is full of endless distance, the poet Robert Hass once said. One day when I'm fifty, I'll look back on Sunday nights like these and tell myself, "Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings."
-

Gossip Girl: July, It's Kind of Wonderful

-
(Originally written in Facebook last night ... just before midnight.)



Previously:
1980

"The relentless march of time is inescapable. It changes everything; people, relationships, friendships. Sometimes what once was, can never be again. It really is, perhaps, the most formidable enemy of all. But without it, we wouldn't be what we are: human. With all its frailties and tenderness and pathos."

Gossip Girl: Tick Tock

"Wakey Wakey Upper Eastsiders, Gossip Girl here. When the summer heat fades and the rains start to fall, we all know it's time for K's birthday. But with nary a man nor family in sight, it looks like Birthday Boy's back to being Lonely Boy."



Evening, Upper Eastsiders. I know it's late but I just couldn't resist giving you one last piece of gossip. 

They say time changes a man, but it looks like old habits die hard. 

Spotted: Our favorite it-boy Kane celebrating his birthday with a pretty new accessory. Who is he? Where did he come from? But the real question is: is he a one-night fling or someone who just might be the real thing?

Oftentimes, we celebrate our birthdays in remembrance of things in the past. For what we have achieved and who we have become. But for some, it is always the future that excites. For all the promises of what could be.

Because you know what they say. Anything could happen. 

XOXO
-

Little Talks

-

Fiction



"So tell me, what's today going to be like?" I ask him while we were still in bed. Our games are always like this.

He closes his eyes and pretends to look into the future. "I see a rainy day ahead, traffic jams. Lots of work to do," he replies. He opens his eyes, looks at me and smiles. "Then, you will come home to me."

"Will I be rich one day?" I tease him.

"You will come home to me. That is the best I can do. You will come home to me."

-

Gossip Girl: Cock-a-Doodle-Doo

-
Warning: This story contains (very light) sexual references. Please do not proceed if it may offend you.

Previously on Gossip Girl:
The Inglourious Basterds

"But evolving is a tricky thing. You can't change without changing the world around you.

And not everyone might see your transformation the same way you do. But if you can make it through and truly be reborn, then maybe so can I. 

So beginning today, the past is just a prologue. It all starts from here."






Guess who's back, Upper Eastsiders? I know its been awhile but I'm here now ready to serve you the latest on what's up, and who's going down. Let's start, shall we?

Word is our favorite-it boy A has had more than one rude awakening this week. Could it be ... that someone dared to dump our Queen Bee?



One beautiful bright morning, I sent a text to my friends.

"So .. last night, I made love to a seven-inch cock," I said. "And it ... it loved me back. Happy Monday boys and girls!"

"It must have been some cock, eh? So do you think it's clever and wise?" Arlan replied.

"Honey, it was just a one-night affair! Or ... perhaps two. But it was quite something, I must say."

"Well, I fell in love with one cock until he got too cocky. He's been laying it a bit thick so I told him, 'You cockroach! You forget yourself!'" A said.

Wow, he's really angry, I thought to myself laughing. "What the fuck! You called him a cockroach?? Hahaha."

"Now I regret it. Anyway, as Vackie told me I'm only twenty-one and I'm allowed to make mistakes," he said. "(Groans) I just miss him."

"You really like this guy?" I asked him, turning serious. "I mean, seriously?"

"Honey ... Huwag kang magulat ha (Please don't be surprised)."

Pause

"I am in love with him."

This just in. It looks like the Ice Queen has finally met her match. And she's all lit up. But careful A. You know what they say, one day you're the muse, the next you're old news.

Ten days ago, I witnessed A and Cockroach Boy smile at each other coyly, hold hands, until the night ended with a big bang inside a rolling, rocking vehicle parked outside a restaurant as the sun crept up. Needless to say, I thought it was spectacular!

Bravo, I whispered to myself as I slowly munched on a breakfast of fried rice, scrambled eggs, longganisa, and adobo, waiting for the car to explode. This ... this is how you do it.

"And so ... how is Friday boy?" I asked Arlan the next day.

"Please please please please! Let us not call boys Friday guy or moment ago boy. It is so nasty," he said, as we both laughed. "But seriously, wish me luck honey. I like him."

"Oh come on," I replied grinning. "You and I both know how this story will end."

"You're so judgmental, bitch," A quickly replied. "Between the two of us, you are the real Ice Queen."

"Hahaha. What can I do? When your history is filled with decapitated corpses with their hearts torn out."

"Seriously ... sumeryoso ka gaga ka talaga! (Be serious and stop it!)," A said. "Haaaay ... it tends to get lonely up here. I need a permanent consort!"



But days later, Cockroach Boy suddenly stopped responding to A's messages. Guess who didn't like that very much?

"Honey, does he really like the guy?" I asked Vackie.

"Well .. maybe. But I think, naiinis siya kasi naisahan siya (he's upset because someone pulled one over him)!" V said as we both laughed.

"Who would have thought?" I said. "The player gets played."



A few days later ...

"You feel better?" I asked Arlan, checking up on him.

"I miss him up to now so I guess I haven't recovered; I'm still ill. This disease called love. Haaaay. So you .. you'd better not fall in love!"

Note to self: don't fall in love.

"Anyway," he continues, "I've been working out. Later, I'll trim my hair. The best way is not to win him back when he sees me; just get a new cock. A better one."

I could feel his voice hardening. Uh,oh. Looks like the Ice Queen is back.

"Let's go out this Saturday, Republiq / Cabana. Reserve the day," he said in a commanding voice. "Guys will fall and we'll just fuck them all."



They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Nowhere is this truer than in the Upper East. Buckle up ladies, looks like we're in for a rough ride.

I may have been gone a long time, but it seems some things are forever. A broken heart. The threat of war. And the fall of the mighty.

And just because I've seen it all, doesn't mean I've seen everything. And I must admit, even I didn't see this one coming. You may think my best days are behind me, but this old girl still has some new tricks.

It feels good to be back. And try as you might to fight it, you know you missed me.






XOXO

-

Reckless

-

It was late Saturday night and I was on my way home from the theater. I had just seen the French film Rust and Bones, which starred Marion Cotillard and Matthias Schoenaerts. I thought it was brilliant in the way it portrayed people who inhabit the edges of life, their "sinewy determination, their guile, and above all,their recklessness," as Rachel Cooke wrote in her review for The Guardian.

So there I was ... driving home, listening to music and pondering the film when my friend Brian texted. He was partying at club Haze where Cosmic Gate was performing.

"Hay ... I'm so stupid Kane," he said. "I've already spend 4,300 bucks. I'm with my crush kasi."

"Honey, it's okay," I said. "These are the stuff memories are made of."

"That's what I'm thinking. Haayyy! For the great memories!!!" Brian replied. "Thank you K, I'm glad you understand me."

"Of course. You know me. What do we treasure when we're older if not moments like these," I told him.  Things one cannot hold on to, I thought to myself.

"The price we pay for great memories," he said. "Hay ... things like these were free when we were young."



Oh ... but we did pay a price Brian. We paid for it dearly. With our youth.
-

Labor of Love

-
Previously:
Ship Ahoy

"It was magnificent. It was like New Year's eve, it was like the fourth of July, it was one of the best moments of my life as a journalist. I was overwhelmed. Feelings of joy, of wonder, of inexplicable emotions got me teary-eyed and I thought to myself, 'Wow, am I a lucky bastard or what.' I actually got to see this."

Originally written in February

My teammates from India to New Zealand and I were all gathered for our annual meeting via video conferencing. It was a big day, with the VIPs (Very Important People) flying in from New York and Washington to Asia to join us.

I was excited to see my teammates and to hear from our managing and executive editors whom we rarely interact with. I belong to the South Asia economy team, and we write economic reports for the region. These  are typically stories about central banks, finance ministries as well as the regular economic data such as inflation, exports, etc.

During the meeting, the editors announced the winner for the story of the year. Each year, they choose from among the works produced by my team. It's a sort of recognition for the best reporting we've done in the past 12 months.

And then they announced that I won.

"It was a very tough call," Chris, a managing editor explained. "We had a lot of very good stories last year." He enumerated some of them which included a story about fruit and vegetable sellers in Australia, Ferrari deaths in Singapore, and cobweb-covered crates in Vietnam.

"But we all think that this story about the changing demographics in Asia was the most compelling, the most visionary and agenda setting," he said. "In many way, this is the kind of reporting that characterizes what we do. It doesn't only tell you what's happening now, but also what's going to happen in the future. It was a unanimous decision."



I was stunned. I didn't even nominate anything I wrote. You're supposed to nominate your best work, but I did not nominate anything since I didn't expect to win. I know I'm good, but as I keep telling my friends, I work with some of the best minds in the world and the stories they write are the kinds of news reporting that prompt governments to take action, change policies, create laws.

I could feel a silly grin growing on my face before I realized I was on a video call and they could all see my reaction. I tried to be calm but inside, all I really wanted to do was scream and shout. My God, I won. Me.

It was one of the happiest moments of my life. That night as I slept, I suddenly thought of the strange journeys we take that lead us to unexpected places. I never planned to be a journalist. It was one of those things that I accidentally fell into. I thought of the years I've spent being a reporter, dreaming of writing stories that one day can change the world.

Maybe, I thought as sleep slowly settled in, that day is not so far away.



"Now I'm just chasing time

With a thousand dreams I'm holding heavy

And as we cross the line these fading beats have all been severed

Don't tell me our youth is running out

It's only just begun."

---Foxes, "Youth"

-

Just Dance

-

Previously:
Wish You Were Here

"We danced that night, and had our first kiss. But what I remember most is how when I hugged him tightly, he wouldn't let go. Naramdaman ko na ang lungkot lungkot niya. (I felt how terribly sad he was. How forlorn.) 

And I thought to myself: here we are, two lost souls clinging to each other for comfort because we are sad. And at that moment, we only had each other. I realized I needed someone who could give to me, who would bring me joy.  

But it wasn't him."



It was going to be a long night. Raffy was returning to Qatar the next day and we were all gathered to celebrate his departure the best way we know how: bars, boys and alcohol.

At exactly nine in the evening, I tweeted my friends to wake them up. "Wakey, wakey Upper Eastsiders. As a Black Swan ballerina once said … it's time to dance."

We were supposed to meet at around ten thirty for late dinner and then drink. With the prospect of five bars and clubs ahead of us, I was half excited, half dreading the night. Excited to see my friends (and possibly meet a hot guy), while dreading the copious amounts of alcohol that will surely flow and the certainty that the night will not end until the sun rises. One must not forget, after all, that I'm no longer a spring chicken and that these endeavors are more prone to tire me that they used to.

Still, like a good soldier (and friend), I decided to brave the night. By two in the morning, we were in the third bar for the night and downing glasses of Jack Daniel and shots of Jägermeister.

And it was then that I saw a short, lanky young man chatting loudly with his friends at a nearby table. I could tell by the volume of his voice that he was a bit smashed. They raised their glasses, and he suddenly offered the saddest toast I've ever heard.

"For all the wounds that never heal!" he shouted, while beads of perspiration trickled down his face. Startled, I paused midway during a conversation with a guy, and I turned to looked at him closely. He couldn't have been more than 23, 24. I wondered what could have happened that made him say that. But then again, I suspect I already knew the answer.



Much later, I did get a chance to meet him and I teased him about what he said earlier. "So … for all the wounds that never heal, eh?" I said, grinning at him.

"What? Haha. I was just joking," he replied, laughing.

"Time heals all wounds," I told him, offering to him the much-repeated words of Geoffrey Chaucer. He smiled, and nodded briefly, but I knew those words don't mean anything to him. At least, not yet.

I wanted to console him, but how do you sum up the wisdom of years in a few minutes in a packed and noisy club? They were playing a song the crowd loved and people were swaying and dancing, bumping into each other while my friends were already starting to surreptitiously get the numbers of guys they liked.

"You know," I told him, "When I was going through a difficult break-up, whenever I was out at a club, I took comfort in the words of a wise woman who once said, 'Just dance … gonna be okay'."

We both laughed. "It may sound silly … but I did. I danced and danced, and … she was right. It's gonna be okay."



The next time I saw him, he was dancing with his friends. His eyes were still sad, but I could see he was trying. Perhaps, all he has for tonight to comfort him is the alcohol, and the music, and his friends. But that's good enough.

And maybe one day, he'll make it too.

-

Shotgun Wedding

-

"What you want, nobody can give you."

---Mary Karr, "Lit"

My phone beeped.

"It's official K," C texted. "We're together as a couple!!!"

"OMG! You fuckin' got hitched! Congratulations! I'm happy for you!!"

"Honey," I told Vackie. "May boyfriend na si Carlo (Carlo now has a boyfriend). Call it a shotgun wedding or whirlwind romance or one last desperate attempt to escape being an old maid, but he did it."

"OMG! You mean he actually managed to find a good man and keep him?" he replied as we both laughed. 

"I know!" I said. "Who would have thought? Imagine, after all these years... "

Sometime late March, Carlo and I sat down over bottles of beer and discussed our seeming inability to find romantic partners. What's wrong with us? we wondered. Were we being too picky, was there a dearth of suitable candidates, were men not attracted to us?

"Ang tagal ko na ring single (I've been single for a long time now)," C said. "When people ask, I just say four years but it's really a lot longer than that."

"I've been thinking, I'm always too careful. You know me. Maybe I should take a chance," he continued. "What about you?"

What about me? I pondered silently about the question as I took a swig of the beer. "You know what I've been thinking about lately?" I said. "How I was about 18 when I first started watching Sex and the City. Carrie was about 32 then and, now can you believe it? I'm as old as she was in Season 1!"

"And I wonder, haven't I've learned enough from watching all those girls date, break up, date all over again? I thought somehow we could skip all the messy dating part and go straight to happy ever after," I continued. "I guess not. And sometimes, I get to think I'm really becoming the ultimate single girl."

Like Carrie and the girls. Stable jobs, parties, dates. One after another. But as someone once told me, "I am happiest when I'm in love." Those words echoed in me.

And so when people would ask me why I'm not with anyone, I always give the same response. I'm always the date, never the groom. That is my fate.

The past few weeks have been a little difficult. Carlo has always been one of my constant companions in the last few years, always the one raring to go out, to have a drink. Saturday night would come and his call for action would be: "Where are we going tonight?"

But ever since he started dating, we haven't really spent time together. I miss him. I understand, of course. I know the drill oh-too-well. And I am happy for him. 

That night, I texted him.

"I'm really happy for you C. I know how beautiful and amazing it is to find love. You, of all people, deserve this. 

I miss you, but I guess that's part of it. I love you "

Days passed. One day, I was startled to receive a message from a guy, well, if we were to be completely honest, a guy I ... kind of like. My heart … fluttered. 

Be still, I told myself. He couldn't possibly like you. He's just … being nice. Nothing more. But secretly, I wished he did. I wished he did.

"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."

---Samuel Beckett

-

The In-Between

-

Previously:
Gossip Girl: Mi Querida Señorita

"So, are you seeing anyone?" I asked her.

"Yes," Fran replied. "And he's married."



"Hey hun, kamusta?" I asked.

"I'm okay. Eto, drinking on a Tuesday night," Fran said. She laughed, and it was bitter. The type that cuts you up like tiny blades, hard and dry. Fran had just broken up with her boyfriend of two years, a man she had deeply loved. It was an agreeable decision but things are starting to get messy.

"Wow … someone's starting the weekend early," I quipped. "You okay?" I sighed.

"Not really." She paused. "Inis ako hun. He told me he was going to be out of town last weekend but he got back pala Saturday. Nakita ko lang kasi na tag siya sa isang photo."

"So I texted him 'I didn't know you were back'." And he replied, "Oh, I didn’t know you wanted to be informed."

"I said, 'I didn’t know you didn't want me informed.' And that was it."

"Naiinis talaga ako hun," Fran repeated. "He's cutting me off. Fuck. That's what I do. I cut people off. But this time, I'm on the receiving end. I thought he was better than this."

"I'm sorry honey," I said, trying to console her. "I guess it sucks when people disappoint us. Nakakainis no?"

"Are you sad that it ended, or how it ended?" I asked.

"I'm sad it ended. But I'm not sad how it ended. I'm angry at how it ended."

I laughed. "I can just imagine how you feel. It must have been like a complete shock. Like Pearl Harbor. You were caught in a stealth attack!"

"Bravo! Round one goes to him," I said. "I'm excited what happens in the next round. What if he becomes sweety sweety uli?"

"Ayy naku," Fran said. "I won't be caught off-guard again. This time, my defenses are up."

"Hahahaha. We'll see honey whether those walls will hold."



That night, I got to thinking. Is it our fault that we let our walls down and let people in? Was all the joy we experienced worth all the pain once a relationship ends? Is there really an un-messy break up?

Earlier this month, Carlo and I were giggling talking about the love month and all the excitement it brings. But February is ending. This morning, I woke up and felt it. It's the season between the seasons. It's no longer cold but neither is it blistering hot. I call it the in-betweens. It makes me feel incredibly nostalgic and a wee bit sad, like something's slipping away and you try to hold on to it. But you can't.

Seasons come, and then they go. That's just the way it is. Just … the way it is.
-

Alessandra

-

"Ahia, I'm here at the hospital now," Shobe said. "My water bag broke. But baka tom pa tong si baby lalabas. (But I think the baby will come out tomorrow.) Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers."

Ahhhh... and so it is time. My little sister is giving birth to her first baby. I guess she's not so little anymore.

"Thank you for letting me know. So you'll stay there for the night? You feel ready?" I said. I was excited, nervous, and a little sad I wasn't with her. I knew this was one of those life moments you'll never forget. I suddenly felt acutely the thousands of miles that stood between us.

"Yes stay na. Connected to the monitor and I'm on fluids already. Ito pala feeling ng patient (So this is how a patient feels)," she said and laughed. It was nervous laughter. She was quiet for a while.

"My back hurts though," Shobe said. "Hopefully I can get some sleep before showtime begins tomorrow. I'm a little anxious kasi i don't know what the pain will be like but I'm ready for it. Kakayanin."

"I understand," I said. I was getting teary-eyed. I was worried for her, I wanted to hug her. She's my baby, still, and that will never change, no matter how many babies she gets. 

"But ikaw pa Shobe! You're one of the bravest person I know," I said, as I tried to cheer her up. "And pain is good, once in a while. It reminds us we are alive."

The next day, my dad texted. 

baby Alessandra

born 1/28/2013 5:31 p.m.

white complexion 7.02 pounds 19.5" 

she's a happy baby girl.

And just like that, life begins anew. Honeylet, daughter, wife, sister, is now also a mother. You know what Dad, I'm happy too.

High Risk (II)

-

Previously:
High Risk

"While waiting for the result, I realized this is how I will always feel during an HIV test, that I will always be a little scared. No matter what you do to protect yourself, there is always a risk you will be exposed to the virus during sex."



I was nervous, edgy, fidgety; the all-too-familiar dread was making me anxious as I waited for the results of my regular HIV test. Only, it hasn't been that regular of late. The last time I got myself tested was two years ago.

"My God, honey. Can you believe it?" I said to Vackie afterwards. "After all the countless random and not-so-random encounters, I'm negative!"

"Akalain mo, sa dami ng nakasex mo nakalusot ka!" V replied. "Kailan ka ba titigil? Naubos mo na ata ang cute sa Grindr."

"I don't know," I said and sighed. "What's wrong with meeeeeeeeee?"

"Matagal na nating tanong yan. Grabe, tinalo mo pa ang carinderiang laging bukas para sa gustong kumain. Honey, you're like a convenience store na, a Ministop. Bukas ng veinte cuatro horas."

"OMG! I hate chuuuuuuu!" I protested while laughing. "Basta, the important thing is that I get myself tested."



While many of us are undoubtedly familiar with the joys of sex, some are still unaware of its peril. Sex is a double-edged sword. It can bite back. Ever since I found out some of my friends have HIV, I have become a strong advocate of safe sex and getting yourself tested.

While many nations are reporting lower new infection rates of HIV, the Philippines is among nine countries where we see increasing incidence rate of HIV infection among adults 15 to 49 years old, the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS said in a report released last month.

Very few people get themselves tested, with the median proportion of men who have sex with men receiving an HIV test in the past 12 months at 38%.

To stop this, more people have started campaigns and awareness programs to educate the public. Niccolo Cosme, who has been active in the fight against HIV through social media, did a photoshoot a couple of weeks ago. He aspires to help spread awareness among the public through social networking sites like Twitter and Facebook. I joined him this year and apparently, after a lot of editing this is how I look like if I had perfect skin.

While having photo shoots is fun, it doesn't mean that our problem is serious. I'm asking you to get yourselves tested, and to encourage your friends to do the same. It sounds trite, but each small thing can lead to something greater.

Have fun, have lots of sex, have lots of safe sex. All you really need is rubber and a really tight ass. I'm kidding! All you need is a tight .... I mean, all you need is rubber!
-

Wheelchair

-

Previously:
Better Days

"Three of my Tita Deng's siblings died in the past few years. One of them was a brother she dearly loved. He was her housemate, her companion. Her friend. She never really recovered, I think. She is turning 88 years old this year, and our talks are now full of her laments in life. How difficult it is to be old ... and weak. Her increasing inability to walk. How lonely she feels."



While the rest of the nation were visiting the dead, I decided to see the living.  It has been a few months since the last time I took Tita Deng out. I was always too busy, too tired, too preoccupied with work, friends and boys. Next time na lang (I'd do it next time), I'd tell myself when I'd wake up the next day with a hangover after a night of partying.

And I found myself  saying that every week. Next time na lang. There was always an excuse I used to assuage my guilt but I knew I should see her soon. So last weekend, I called her up and told her I would be picking her up for lunch the next day. A date with her always takes time. I'd have to go to Antipolo to fetch her, then we would go to wherever we were going to eat, then I'd have to bring her back, before I head home. All in all, it takes about eight hours.




I slept early the previous night so I'd wake up early. I had already researched some restaurants we could try and I was looking forward to spending time with her. Tita Deng and I always had fun. We would laugh and talk about many things, she always had a sense of humor that hasn't been dulled by old age.

I was shocked when I saw her. She came out in a wheelchair, looking very frail and thin. Apparently, her health has deteriorated dramatically. She can no longer walk because her knees hurt due to arthritis and she is now forced to use a wheelchair, something she had always dreaded.

The process of getting her inside the car was strenuous. I had to lift her and put her in the passenger seat. Then, I had to lift her wheelchair and put it in the trunk. By the time it was done, I was sweating heavily.

Once I got in, I hugged her. "Tita Deng, kamusta ka?" I said.

She started to speak but I couldn't understand her words. Later on, I learned she fell down and hurt herself badly in September, and that she may have had a mild stroke. Sometimes, her speech becomes slurred and she finds it difficult to be understood.

I looked at her and suddenly, she really seemed ... old. Matanda na talaga si Tita. I suppose I always had a feeling she would live forever, that she would always be around. I was getting sentimental and sad, but I hid it from her.

I knew what she would like is for us to have a normal day together and act like everything's the same. So I greeted her cheerfully and told her how beautiful she looked in her blue dress.

We went to Eastwood and decided to have lunch at a Thai restaurant since Tita Deng loves spicy food.We had pad thai, tom yum goong, steamed rice, and squid with garlic. I noticed her hands were trembling and she would spill some food on her lap, so I arranged her napkin so her dress wouldn't get soiled. I regaled her with stories; my sister's pregnancy, my travels, plans for Christmas, updates about work.

"So Tita, anong balita sa iyo? (So Tita, what's new with you?)"

"Alam mo ba, natumba ako isang beses. Actually ilang beses. Mahina na talaga ang tuhod ko. Masakit dahil sa arthritis. (You know what, I fell down once. Actually, several times. My knees are really weak now.  It hurts because of arthritis.)"

She winced and I could imagine how it must pain her. "Nabagsakan pa nga ako ng cabinet eh (A cabinet even fell down on me)," she said.

"Oh my God!!! Nakakaloka!!! (What the fuck!!!!)" The cabinet she was referring to was a big one that's around five feet ten inches tall. She said people found her with blood on her face due to a gash, but otherwise, she was unhurt.

"Nakakaloka! (The fuck!) Akalain mo, natumba ka na at nabagsakan ka ng ng cabinet pero ... buhay ka pa rin! (Imagine, you fell down and got trapped by a cabinet but look ... you're still alive!!" I said.

"Loco ka talaga! (You're such a smart ass!)" she said and we both laughed. I hugged her and smelled her shampoo on her hair.

"Aba .. naligo ka!" I said.

"Siempre, may date tayo eh," she replied, her eyes twinkling.



Afterwards, we transferred to another restaurant and ordered ube cake and a green mango-watermelon shake. Later on, I took her around the mall in her wheelchair because I know she likes seeing the shops and people watching. She doesn't go out anymore, and the only times she gets to see the outside world is when I take her out. I would tease her and push her wheelchair hard so we would be running across the hallway, and we'd be laughing afterwards.

"Para naman akong bata nito," she told me with a smile.

I remember something I read about how life comes full circle as we age. From a baby to an old man or woman. Once we rode strollers, later we'd be straddling wheelchairs. The wheel of fortune turns and sometimes we find ourselves right back where we started.






Time is running out. I don't know how much time is left for Tita Deng, and there's really nothing to be done about it. We all have to take our exit, at some point. She has had a long life, a good life and perhaps that is enough.

-

On My Own

-

Originally posted on my Facebook account on Sept. 25, 2012



Previously:
Farewell, My Concubine



My phone beeped earlier while I was at work.  How are you K? Chris texted. Wow, I told myself. This was a surprise. I rarely hear from him these days.

"Busy, tired from the weekend, back at work, flying to Singapore on Thursday until Sunday for work," I said, quickly summarizing the events. "Ikaw? Kamusta ka? It's been ages."

"I'm doing great. :) Nangamusta lang. I miss you."

"Okay .. napaka vague ng great," I said. "Hahaha. Ikaw talaga. Walang balita?"

Chris then rambled on, telling me about his new work, his training. And then he said "I'm so in love with my boyfriend. He's the best thing that happened to me."

And just like that, suddenly, I remembered what it was like to be with someone, to be with someone you love. I smiled at the memory, and felt a little wistful.

"I'm really happy for you," I said. And I am.



I am happy with my life; yet I know what I feel is nothing compared to the joy Chris is feeling. They say nothing is as sweet as the nectar of love. Not all the accolades at work, nor the adoration of men (or women), nor the wealth of a thousand empires. Wasn't it the bard himself who spoke of the ecstasy of love?

So tonight I sleep with a little smile on my face, thinking of Chris and his newfound love.

And I think about the best thing that happened to me. I know it sounds strange, but it's a small piece of truth I picked up along the way.

It's the thought that no matter what happens, I'll always have myself. They say it takes a certain kind of wisdom to be happy on your own. I think I'm getting there.
-

The Power of Commercial

-

Previously:
Gossip Girl: The Inglourious Basterds

"Short hair is more commercial, more sell-able. And I ... I wanted to be sold. As the locks of hair started to fall, I felt like all the heroines in all the books and films I've seen. I'm Romeo's Juliet, I'm Dante's Beatrice. I'm Serena and Blair, I'm the Devil Wearing Prada."





Arlan invited me to go with him to a birthday party and be his plus one. I haven't seen him for a while, and I was looking forward to a night of drinking and dancing. With a little flirting on the side, I hoped. I arrived at the venue first and waited for him at the lobby of the condominium.

"Oh my God honey. Ang guapo mo!" A said when he saw me. I smiled impishly and twirled around to show him my new haircut.

"You think?" I asked, and we both laughed.

"Shit! Kelan pa yan? For sure, marami kang makikilala niyan!" he told me.

"Of course," I said. "Because it's commercial. Para lang iyang Jollibee, pang masa!"



So I caved in. For years, I held off from cutting my hair and opted for a more "unpopular" style, growing it long. I loved my long hair. It allowed me to change my look every now and then. I would curl it, tease it. But there's a time and season for everything. And one day, I decided to cut it short.

Like ... really short.

The effect was instantaneous. Overnight, I became the darling of gay men as I paraded in clubs, parties, and events. I attended a play and I met a college freshman who followed to the restroom. That same day, I met another guy at the gym who wanted to take me out to dinner, mind you. My God, ano ba yan, I wanted to tell him. I'm easy. You don't have to buy me dinner.

Once, I was at a bar chatting with a friend when a guy nearby talked to me out of the blue, "Alam mo, ang guapo mo." I turned around, surprised. I was a little embarrassed.

"Ahhh ... wala lang iyan," I said, trying to downplay things. "Nakainom ka lang."

He kept on smiling. "Ang guapo mo," he repeated, nodding his head. I gave him a smile and felt my knees tremble slightly.



A couple of weeks ago, I received a text message from a guy who kind of likes me. I was partying the night before and he saw me at the club. "Hi Kane. Hanga na ako sa charm mo. Panalo! You're an epitome of what a real chicboy is."

I reread the message again and again with a small smile on my face.  Yes, I've had many compliments in my life. But each time, it still never fails to surprise me. I guess, deep down, there will always be a part of me saying "Me? You mean me?" That boy who always felt he was just ordinary.

Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But I must admit, it still feels good every time it happens. Someone once told me, "It never gets old". You know what, it really doesn't.
 

-

Little Boy Blue

-

Doni was competing in a drag show in Singapore and I was thrilled to have the chance to watch his counter-ego Mona Kee Kee perform on stage. I knew how much this means to him and I was happy that I'd be there to support him. For some, it may just be something for fun ... katuwaan ... but I knew that Doni was passionate about being a drag queen and this competition meant the world to him. I invited Nestle to join me and he brought along a couple of his friends.

Dan was rather quiet and shy. We barely spoke at first. I was intent on watching the show, shouting my heart out, cheering for Mona until I got hoarse. The crowd was having so much fun, and Mona was clearly among the crowd favorites.

Eventually, after the show ended we transferred to Tantric to drink and party. By then I was tired. A week's worth of exhaustion, a generous amount of alcohol earlier that evening, and lack of sleep were piling up and making me feel sleepy.

I sidled up closer to Dan and made small talk. Up close, I noticed that he was cute. He wasn't the classic head-turner; his charm was the kind that reveals itself slowly. The big smile on his face, his steady demeanor.

We chatted a little, I was a little tipsy so I don't know how exactly but after awhile we found ourselves flirting a bit. Hands briefly touching. My arms around his shoulder. The teasing smiles and grins back and forth.

But then he suddenly straightened up and turned serious."I have a boyfriend," Dan confessed.

Was it just me or did the room feel suddenly a little tighter? I slowly disengaged myself from him and we stood a little far apart. "Ahhhh ... matagal na kayo? (You guys been together long?)"

"Four years," he replied. "Pero hindi na kami nag se sex. (But we don't have sex anymore.)"

I was surprised. "Oh ... wow."

"Kelan pa? (Since when?)"

"Two years. I guess para na kaming magkapatid? (I guess we're more like brothers now?)" he said hesitantly, and gave me a tired smile. I wanted to hug him, to comfort him but I didn't know whether it was appropriate. He suddenly seemed frail and fragile under the bright disco lights.



Much later, we were about to go home as the bar was closing. We've lost Nestle, he was flirting and dancing with a guy the last time we saw him. Dan and his friend offered to drop me off at the hotel. His friend knew something was up between us and sat at the front of the cab.

Inside, we sat quietly and made small talk. I turned to look at him and suddenly, I couldn't resist it. I kissed him and Dan ... he kissed back. It was quick, furtive, and the knowledge that there were other people including an old man in front made it more exciting.

"Gusto mo bang sumama kahit sandali? (Do you want to go with me for a little bit?)" I asked him in a whisper.

"Hindi puede eh. Magagalit siya (He'd be angry)," Dan answered. I knew who he meant.

"Kahit sandali lang? (Even for just while?)" I said.

He looked at me and I could see he was struggling. I knew he wanted to stay, I also knew he wanted to go.

I stepped up the game. I kissed him again and unbuttoned my jeans a little. Then I took his hand and guided it to my crotch. I moaned softly. Tang-ina sarap. (Fuck) I knew Dan would never do that on his own.  He would feel guilty, but I suppose having someone lead you to it eases the guilt a little. Our kisses were becoming more urgent. I was biting his lips, caressing his body. And then suddenly, we were at the hotel.

We both got off and stood at the driveway. This is it, I told myself. What I would say and do next would determine how our night would end.

"So ..." I started, giving him a devilish grin. "Sige na. Kahit sandali lang?" I coaxed.

"Kane ..." he implored. "Hindi ko pa kaya (I can't do it yet.)"

"Hindi ko pa kaya (I can't do it yet)," he repeated slowly. And then he gave me a look. That look which said --- Please huwag mo na akong pilitin dahil alam kong bibigay ako and then I'd hate myself afterwards (Please don't ask me again because I know I'll give in and then I'd hate myself afterwards.)

We stood quietly still looking at each other in the wee hours of the morning. I moved closer and hugged him.

"It's okay,"I told him. "I understand. You're a good guy Dan." And then I turned around and walked away.



That night, I slept with an ache in my groin. Dan slept beside his lover with an ache in his heart. Somehow ... I knew which one of us had it worse.
-