Tibaklah

Si Ericson

2011-02-18T00:31:00.002+08:00

I haven't seen him for a very, very long time. But somehow, I know he is just there.

Like with many others in the ND student movement of the 90's in UP, I lost touch with his comings and goings since I went here to Hong Kong in 1999. I am not even sure if he has a Facebook account and if he's in my friend's list.

But back then, he was one of the elders we kiddies looked up to when it came to activism especially cultural activism. He oozed with such. He wrote poems, he composed melodies, he played the guitar … and he joked around a lot. He'd belt out into songs – together with other members of Alay Sining – while hanging around the LFS tambayan.

I haven't seen him for a very long time. But I know he is just there.

Wala sya sa Cubao. He is being held by the military since February 13 somewhere in Samar.

Free Ericson Acosta!

(Below is a poem of Ericson I first read 11 years ago)

Walang Kalabaw sa Cubao

Walang kalabaw sa Cubao
Pero sa loob ng videokeng Fiesta carnival
May mga kabayong baby-blue
At isang kubang Tyrannosaurus Rex
Habang sa magkabilang dulo
Ng Goldilocks at showroom
Ng Automatic Center
Naroon naman ang mga Tamaraw
FX na ngayo'y pastul-pastol
Ng mga kolorum na dispatser:

Mga bastardong anak
Nina Aurora't Epifanio
Na ang langibang pusod
Ay kakabit pa rin
Ng matris ng estero;
Mga binatilyong binabansot
Sa lilim ng Big Dome
Sa anino ng kongkretong domino
Ng tinatayong tulay ng MRT-2;
Mga supot na sakristang simsim-
Simsim ang insenso ng tambutso,
Papak-papak ang beintesingko—
Ang ostiang kabayaran
Sa taimtim na pagkabisado
At paghiyaw sa mga litanya
Nina SANTA LUCIA, SANTA LUCIA
At SAN MATEO, SAN MATEO
At sa banal na amen ng Hoy, 'tang 'na kang
Hayop kang hindot ka, nauna 'ko sa 'yo dito!

At ngayon, kagat-kagat nila
Ang labi ng alas-dos
Pilit na tinitiklo ang antok
At nang 'di malimot
Ang inalmusal na rugby sa may 7-11
Ang tinanghaliang bilog
At idlip sa gilid ng Tiririt
Ang hinapunang jakol
Sa CR ng Ali-Mall

Walang kalabaw sa Cubao:
Ang Cubao mismo ang kalabaw
At sila ang nakadapong langaw.

Something old, something new

2011-02-11T21:52:00.001+08:00

New post, new name, old blog, old self.

I decided to change my blog name not for any dramatic, life-changing reason. The truth is: the name doesn't really fit anymore. I still do drink coffee and I went back to smoking but the thing is, I do not do both of them when I write.

So now that the name change is out of the way, why this particular name?

Tibak is how usually activists call, well, activists. When I say activists, I mean of the ND line and not the ones posturing as activists and licking the yellowish ass of the current government.

Bakla is … you know what.

Lah is usually used by Hong Kong Chinese to end their sentences. It doesn't really mean anything. It just makes what you say so Chinese.

I am an activist. I am gay. I am in Hong Kong.

Thus I used the name.

Besides, kikomanhk is already taken.

I do thank him for the new masthead.

And you thought you had it all …

2010-11-15T22:29:00.002+08:00

Why settle for them …

… if you can have these?

Get your Threesome in National Bookstore branches

Metro Manila
Alabang
Cubao (Superbranch)
Ermita
Glorietta 5
Greenbelt
Katipunan
Market Market
Mall of Asia
Megamall
North EDSA
North EDSA Bestseller
Ortigas Galleria
Ortigas Bestseller
Podium Bestseller
Quezon Avenue
Rockwell
Shangri-la
SM Manila
SM Marikina
St. Luke's Bestseller
Taft Avenue
Trinoma
UP North
Luzon
Legaspi
SM Baguio
SM Lipa
SM Pampanga
Subic
Visayas
Ayala Cebu
Mango-Cebu
Robinsons Iloilo
SM Cebu
SM Bacolod
Mindanao
Davao Gaisano
SM Davao
NBS Cagayan de Oro
Limited edition box sets are only available at:
IBON Bookstore
IBON Center, 114 Timog Ave., Quezon City, 1103 Philippines

Respect OFWs

2010-11-12T00:12:00.001+08:00

We always say that respect is earned. By this standard, OFWs have earned more than they have been so far given.

Some may say that it is in their role in country's economy that has also earned them the moniker new economic heroes. While the more commonly used basis for such a tag is the remittance OFWs send, this should also include the billions more infused in the national coffers through the shopping list of fees that the government charges from them, the mushrooming of businesses related to sending off workers abroad, as well as the increase in financial capacity of their respective household.

Respect accorded to them can also be from their strength of will to brave new places and culture. We all heard of harrowing experiences of OFWs and we all know that it takes courage to face the unknowns when one becomes a migrant worker.

It can also be from the sacrifices they made. Choice is really not a luxury for OFWs. In the first place, given a genuinely free choice, most OFWs will probably say that they still prefer to be home if only decent jobs exist. If only education and health services are accessible. If only ….

My respect for OFWs includes but also goes beyond these.

It is in the easy camaraderie that usually springs among OFWs. It is in the care of the 'manangs' who do not seem to run out of food and other comforts to offer while sitting in their 'tambayans'. It is in their sincerity to give help if they can. It is in the stories they are willing to share. It is in the tales of their everyday life that are sometimes funny, oftentimes sad, and always bittersweet.

It is in their drive to maintain their dignity. Many of them have been battered and bruised in more ways than one but eventually, they can learn to fight. Their remarkable endurance in facing hard work is matched, if not surpassed, by their commitment to right wrongdoings done against them as workers and as human beings.

It is in the likes of Agnes Tenorio that OFWs earn respect.

It is time cash this out and make Labor Attache to Hong Kong Romulo Salud pay.

(Written as part of the Respect OFWs Blog Action Day that stemmed from the verbal abuse and neglect that OFW Agnes Tenorio experienced from Labor Attache Romulo Salud)

A happy journey

2010-09-18T01:47:00.004+08:00

One doesn't have to go the distance to like "Going the Distance". It was simple, romantic, with just a touch of drama and loads of laughter – the perfect relationship … err, romance flick.

While the film is about a long distance relationship, the underlying question is really how far one can be willing to go the distance for love. Yeah, each and everyone – well at least everyone who has fallen – will have an answer. Myself, it all depends on what you are ready to do or what may be the risks and consequences you are willing to take.

So my friends and I decided to watch the movie out a whim to see what it has to say about LDR. With most of them having been or are in an LDR and I, well, just tagging along, we headed out without any real expectation on the film.

It was a hoot and a half.

Believers and naysayers can head butt on the question of LDRs and its complexities. I won't. It's 1:30 am!

(Though between the two, I lean more towards the latter group. Now don't treat this as a spoiler, but the film did not convert me to the former.)

Drew Barrymore and Justin Long were so sweet onscreen and their chemistry was so evident. It probably pays to also be together off-screen to get the viewers all syrupy while the two exchanged I-love-you's or got even more intimate. Incidentally, I didn't know that Long could have that one hot body.

The supporting casts were a riot. Especially Cristina Applegate. It was my first time to hear someone talk about dry humping in vivid details.

Notwithstanding my position on LDRs, I enjoyed the film. I guess it is really what the film just wants. It does not want the viewer to have epiphanies on LDR or the other questions that may arise from the story. It doesn't want anyone to decide whether to "fuck the miles" or stop fucking with the miles.

It just wants the viewers to enjoy the love story as it unfolds. And boy, I did.

Just go the distance and find out why.

Nag-e-explore

2010-09-05T00:11:00.001+08:00

Hindi masama mag-explore. Kung sana'y kasing dali lang ng pag-search, download at install ang lahat ng bagay.

On second thought, mahirap ding maging android.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.5.8

Pare, bakla ako

2010-09-01T23:11:00.002+08:00

At the risk of playing into stereotypes, I will dare consider coming out as the most macho thing a gay guy can do.

For coming out is not a leisurely trip in the park. It is an agonizing process where one tries to weigh in and balance various factors from the personal to the social. Scenarios are built and most of the time, they are all grim and we cringe at the thought of one of them happening.

Myself, it took a broken heart, the not-so-holy spirit of Jack Daniels, and the knowledge of the political correctness of my colleagues to make me finally say that the "phase" I was in was for keeps.

Coming out is more of like a gauntlet thrown out by knights to pose a challenge. We say that we come out when we are ready and this readiness means we stick with dicks no matter what happens. Through thick or thin … or small, medium, large or extra large.

We come out expecting to get riddled with questions, to be met with amazement and even be ridiculed. Still we do so. Our coming out of the closet is a challenge we pose for others to come out of their own closeted existence where gays should, well, be in the closet.

The first people I came out to just said "OK". When I came out to my sister, she just warned me not to get a boyfriend before she does. My third coming out was on Facebook. It did result to some comments but definitely not to a discussion page.

Whether they did accept what I said or understood what it meant did not really matter. At the very least, it probably got them to think that from then on, they have to deal with a gay guy whenever I am around.

To paraphrase a quote by Mao, revolution is not a dinner party or embroidery. So is coming out though we do love parties and have nimble fingers for needlework. If a revolution is about creating a new society, coming out opens one up to a new way of life.

It takes a lot of nerves to man up and be gay. In the kind of society we are in, once you come out, you have to come out again and again to defend your choice, banish prejudices and smash stereotypes. It is like a perpetual ejaculation with no real orgasm immediately in sight.

However hard it is, I still prefer to be out.

In any case, something hard is not always a bad thing, right?

(Written as a contribution to the theorg-y. At dahil matagal na rin akong walang post.)

Pimple talk

2010-07-18T23:55:00.003+08:00

I went around doing my usual Sunday stuff with a big pimple on my nose. Yeah, it's its favorite place to make an appearance and I sometimes think it always feels proud to be red and prominent. The diva!

Of course, I got the usual "uy, in love!" or "sino naman yan?" Frankly, if there is one, there's no way he'll be named Pimple.

As it turned out though, the pimple gave way to a talk with a friend who's on the verge of falling.

Asked about what she's going to do about it, she gave a litany of why she doesn't really dwell on it now: the other person is still recovering from a breakup, there's a consideration about family, the other person may not be ready, and they are friends, yadda yadda yadda.

But asked about her state on this matter, she got stumped. It did make me think that when we think of another person so much, we sometimes forget that it is good to start with the self first when you want to have a relationship with someone.

Kind of self-absorbed one may say. But then again, when you don't really know who and what you are when you think you are already on the verge of falling, how will you know if you fall standing up or with your ass flat on the ground?

Unromantic? Maybe. But who said that love should be a free fall?

When you are on the precipice of love, I think it is worthwhile to stop for a while and ponder on what you got so far before taking the plunge. Therein lies what you got to offer to the relationship. The rest are still promises. Who knows, maybe you'll come up with an even better you before making the move.

And when you finally give in, at least you'll know what you are giving. Pimple and all.

Exclusively HK

2010-07-16T00:16:00.003+08:00

While taking a needed break from chanting and blowing whistles, a trade unionist remarks:

"Only nine members voted for the amendment. As a Hong Kong citizen, I feel sad and ashamed."

If someone who is not directly affected by the exclusion of foreign domestic workers or FDWs from the statutory minimum wage can feel that way, what more for those who are the ones excluded.

After over a year of discussions and lobbying it can now be said again that for all the hoopla of Hong Kong being liberal or a wonderful city for foreign workers, discrimination against those who are already at the gutter of this society is institutionalized.

In a society like Hong Kong that treats free market capitalism like a god, a successful campaign for a legislated minimum wage is a significant victory for the worker's movement. It could have been sweeter if only FDWs – numbering around 250,000 – are not sidelined.

The FDWs chant "we are workers, we are not slaves" encapsulates the various reasons why they assert their right for inclusion to such an important law. Their labour is as important as any worker in Hong Kong. Their labour also builds Hong Kong. Their labour makes it possible for these high and mighty LegCo members to sit in their plush offices and halls and debate how best to marginalize in law those who already have less in life.

Considering though the composition of the LegCo – majority coming from the business sector, some from a trade union who doesn't deserve its name, some more from "democratic" groups whose concept of democracy is quite selective – we were already uneasy on how the vote will go. When it came, it was as appalling as we thought it would be.

Good thing there was this unionist – and there are more of them – who felt the same as the FDWs.

Hope, indeed, still floats.

Prodigal blogger

2010-07-13T04:25:00.002+08:00

It is not because there is a new president installed that I am blogging again.

Though of course there are already a number of things I could blog about him. While this is still supposed to be a honeymoon period, it does not mean that one cannot already form an opinion on what he does, what he says and where he may be leading us. Even in honeymoons, the foreplay is still an indicator of how the climax will be like.

It is also not because of any life-changing experience or any epiphany of sorts that I am having a new post.

I am still an OFW working in a job I enjoy doing. Still an activist taking on issues from the overpriced e-passport to the exclusion of foreign domestic workers in the statutory minimum wage that is soon to be finalized in Hong Kong. Still marching. Still struggling.

It is also not because I am having an emotional
moment that I again am writing.

While indeed there have been a couple of them in the past months, none has been heart-wrenching enough that a major laugh trip could not jumpstart the moving on process. Besides, a moment is supposed to last only for a moment.

So why am I blogging?

Maybe because I got some more moments to process and the recent laugh trips have not been major enough. Or because an activist's work is never really done and there is a host of OFW concerns – old, new and mutated ones – I do care to write about. Or because the new president is yet to banish the nightmares induced by GMA and really work on the dreams he built his campaign on.

Or maybe simply, I am blogging because it is 4 o'clock in the morning, there's a steaming mug of coffee on my desk, and a fresh pack of cigarettes is just too inviting.

Simply nasty

2010-03-21T23:08:00.002+08:00

I wanted to sleep early tonight but a most bothering FB message from a friend, prompted me to write this short note.

For the context: http://the-chronicles-of-e.blogspot.com/2010/03/cyber-bullying-at-its-best.html

Even if E didn't turn out to be a friend, the sheer nastiness of what was done to his person was spiteful, malicious and downright mean.

I may not agree with E on some scores – we still have a pending discussion about the Marcoses and Mike Defensor – but on this matter, I am with him.

To the one who did the unthinkable, reflect on how out of bounds you were.

While you're at it, reflect on how you made me lose some of the sleeping time I needed.

Maybe, just maybe, you'll lose some of yours too.

Percy and I

2010-02-14T23:58:00.002+08:00

He's my Valentine's date. And he's a demigod.

I haven't seen the film yet. For reasons too complicated to explain, I decided to forego watching it with friends yesterday and instead spent the rest of last night finishing the first book. I just spent the past few hours including dinner on the second book of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series and I can say I have mixed thoughts on how it is going so far.

The plot: Perseus Jackson is a young boy who's the son of one of Big Three Greek gods to a mortal woman. Dyslexic and with ADHD, he goes around having summer adventures with fellow demigod Annabeth and the satyr Grover while for the most part of the year, he goes to school and lives a relatively normal life with his mom or what can pass for as normal for one sired by Poseidon. I am not yet sure if there'll be a twist in the next three books but so far, the story leads to a final confrontation with the titan Kronos and his plan to destroy the West. (I'd like to think that it is beating imperialism to a pulp but then again, it is presented as an "evil" design so probably it is not the same.)

On one hand, it does interest me to read about how one can fight a god, or gods for that matter. Throw in a modern-day setting – with US playing host to rampaging 'gods' – and it further piques my curiosity. Throw in further a magical pen that becomes the sword Riptide, a clash with Medusa affectionately called Aunty Em, and Hades' domain just in the underbelly of Los Angeles – it does arouse the fantasy-buff in me.

However, so far, I cannot say that it is at par with The Sword of Truth, The Belgariad or the Shannara series as fantasy epics go. Or even Harry Potter for that matter. Sometimes the fusion of Greek mythology to the modern adventure is too much. For someone to whom Greek mythology is, well, Greek, I lose the thread of the story when a new character is introduced and keeps me wondering if it was really how the Greek myths put it. It does help from time to time when the writer creatively put a narration to explain what has happened or about to happen but it takes a while to get me back on track.

Still, I will finish reading the series. It still has good moments enough to while away time.

I'm reserving my final judgment until I read the last book. Like my thoughts on Valentine's Day, it is still under process.

Health alert

2010-02-12T22:33:00.006+08:00

I am not a health buff. This blog's name attests to that.

What I am is a human rights buff and the illegal arrest, detention and torture of 43 health workers just makes me sick.

Two doctors, one nurse, one midwife and a host of community health workers were arrested last Saturday in Morong, Rizal while they were in the middle of a health training conducted by the NGO Council for Health and Development. A cursory glance at their website reveals that that is exactly what they do – train community health workers and build community-based health programs to provide the needs of communities where people get sick or die without even seeing a medical professional.

Consider these: forcible entry to a private place of domicile, a search warrant that was only produced after the operation and was issued by a Cavite court for a person that the house's owner – a respected consultant at the Philippine General Hospital – has never heard of, finding a grenade under a pillow, a so-called witness who miraculously came out and pointed fingers to his "comrades". It gets more incredulous every day the arresting military unit tries to stick the "NPA" tag to those they are currently holding that even include two pregnant women.

As relayed by one of the detainees, Dr. Mia-Clamor, they have been subjected to mental and physical torture just so they will be forced to admit to fabricated membership to the NPA and even more fabricated crimes.

Their only membership is to humanity that cannot be said to those who trample on human rights. Their only crime is to deliver one of the most basic of social services to the poor that the government has long denied.

In the face of what happened to the Morong 43 or Health 43 as activist groups call them, smoking one pack a day, drinking coffee by the buckets, and missing out on my workout for two months now (and counting!) is not as unhealthy as the culture of impunity that has grown like a cancer in our society for the past decade.

When is the right time to say you like someone?

2010-02-07T23:00:00.003+08:00

I posted the question a few days back in my FB and sure enough, different folks have different strokes.

Kiks: kapag nilaglag ka.

Mandaya Moore: kapag nawawala na gana mo sa kanya pwede rin kapag inunahan ka nya. segurista.

LA: Pag offline ka na.

SB: Pag di mo na natiis...or baka pag feeling mo mauunahan ka.

PT: Paglasing na lang para you can deny everything the following morning.

RC: Basta sabihin mo na lang. sigurado namang sasagot iyon. alinman sa dalawa gusto rin o ayaw.

MdG: kung ako ang nasabihan ng ganyan i would expect that the person who said it is also expecting an answer: yes, no, maybe, in what way, or can i phone a friend? etchos.

EB: right away...it worked for me

MMA: While the two of you are laughing after someone cracks a really good joke?

OBB: pag ngayon mo lang nakita o nakilala, huwag muna. Nagpapacute lang siya sa iyo. Pero kung matagal mo ng nakilala.... hindi ka dapat nag-aaksaya ng panahon.

So how do I say it's the right time for me?
When I am sure of it and when I am prepared to follow through or suffer the consequences.
Probably next week. Or not.

Hindi sa sawa na akong mag-blog

2010-01-27T01:25:00.003+08:00

Dahil lang siguro sobrang hectic ang nakaraang mga buwan - byahe sa mga bansang hindi pa napupuntahan, byahe sa mga karanasang hindi ko pa napagdaanan. Hindi talaga totoo na only the destination counts. Pwede ka ring bumilang during the trip. Two-way.

Marahil din ay dahil nagkasama-sama ulit kaming pamilya pagkatapos ng walong taon na pagkahiwa-hiwalay. I don't really have to look far to know about the Filipino diaspora. Nasa Cabuyao lang sya.

Pwede rin naman na dahil palaging nariyan ang mga gawaing hindi maiwan.

Siguro din ay may mga bagay lang akong pinagmu-munian. At mga pangyayari na nilalampasan. I like to think that I will come out of them unscathed. Para lang one-night stand.

Pero kahit hindi ka nasugatan, mayroon ka pa ring pag-iisipan.

Para ngang one-night stand.

Araw ng Patay

2009-10-31T18:54:00.003+08:00

Sa totoo lang, hindi ko pa rin alam ang distinction between Halloween, All Soul's Day at All Saint's Day. I-google ko na lang siguro mamaya.

Basta ang alam ko eh Araw ng Patay ang November 1.

Noong bata pa ako, excited ako kapag Araw ng Patay. Hindi dahil ako ay morbid kundi dahil bata pa ako.

Tingin ko, ginagawa talaga ng matatanda na something to look forward to ang November 1 para sa mga bata. Sino ba naman kasing bata ang makaka-appreciate at hindi matatakot kapag sinabi mong may araw ang mga patay?

Reunion ng mga magkakaanak ang Araw ng Patay, minus the namatay syempre. Picnic ang kinakakalabasan complete with latag sa ibabaw ng nitso ng kung anu-anong mga pagkain. Kwentuhan ang mga matatanda na ironically ay hindi ng tungkol sa binisitang patay (kahit araw nya, in the first place) habang naghahabulan sa sementeryo ang mga bata. Madalas, nagpapaligsahan pa kaming magpi-pinsan sa paggawa ng pinakamalaking bola mula sa tinipong candlewax na iba't iba pa ang kulay. Bantay talaga sa natutunaw na mga kandila habang akala mo ay seryosong binibigyang pugay ang nitso sa harapan.

Mas masaya actually ang gabi ng October 31 o gabi ng November 1. Totoo na walang trick or treat sa amin noon complete with costumes pero merong caroling. Pilit kong inaalala ang kinakanta namin noon pero hindi ko na mabuo. Heto lang ang mga parts na tanda ko:

"Kaluluwa'y dumadatal, sa tapat ng durungawan

Kampanilya'y something-something, ginigising ang maybahay

Maybahay pong inang ibig

La-la-la-la, higit sa langit

Araw-gabi ay tahimik, chika-chika nyong malapit

Kung kami po'y lilimusan, dali-dali na pong bigyan

At baka kami'y masarhan ng pinto ng kalangitan.

Palimos po!"

Yan ang kinakanta namin kapalit ng piso o singkwenta sentimos. Understood na namin na pag Pasko lang malaki ang kita sa caroling.

Sayang, kung may ganito rin sanang practice sa Hong Kong, mas malaki ang kita ng mga bata dahil dalawa ang Araw ng Patay dito. Isa para sa lalake at isa para sa babae.

I know! Paano tayo?

X Problem

2009-10-29T18:24:00.003+08:00

Actually, wala naman talagang problema.

Dahil naniniwala naman akong pwedeng maging magkaibigan ang mag-ex. Though you also have to consider din the manner of the breakup. Kung halimbawa eh may breach of trust. Mahirap din naman i-kunsidera na kaibigan ang isang tao na hindi mo pinagkakatiwalaan. Kahit pa nga hindi absoluto ang pagtitiwala, friends are ones you trust more than, for example, the man you met at the bar last night.

Wala naman kaming pinag-awayang matindi kaya kami nagkahiwalay. Like many immature relationships, we just drifted apart. Sana man lang may big fight o may dramang naganap para kahit paano eh masabi kong nahinog ang relasyon. Nahinog tapos nabulok, ganun.

Pero wala eh. Iba ang dinaanan nya at iba rin ang dinaanan ko. Unfortunately, never did the twain meet.

Wala naman sana talagang problema dahil we've both aged. At gracefully ha sa kaso nya kung picture ang pag-uusapan. Pero syempre lampas pa dun, I'd like to think that we've matured mentally and emotionally.

Wala naman sana talagang problema dahil kumportable naman ako sa sarili ko at mukhang masaya din naman sya sa buhay nya.

Wala naman sana talagang problema na i-add ko sya as friend sa facebook.

Madali sanang gawin. Kung bakla lang sana sya.

10 for 10

2009-09-10T00:01:00.002+08:00

This time next month marks my 10th year of being in HK.

Probably because I needed something to help me recoup my blogging ante, I thought of writing 10 posts for the past decade that I have been here. Considering my recent lackadaisical efforts to write on this blog, this will really be a tall order.

But then again, it may very well be worth the time to think about some stuff that I've learned and experienced within the period that my hairline receded for at least half an inch, my weight jumped by 30 lbs more (three pounds a year, not that bad actually), and my Chinese vocabulary improved from swear words to ordering my favorite dish, chiu pa fan.

Just to kick off, here are some random and trivial bits that I picked up along my 10-year, and counting, journey with friends, colleagues and compatriots in Hong Kong:

When you want to meet a friend who is not familiar with HK on a Sunday, just ask him/her to go to Black Man. It is a place that is at the heart of HK but is not really identified in any official map. Only Filipinos know about it.
An alley is a narrow street. But the alley-alley is a place to shop for cheap clothes and various knick-knacks. It is sometimes called alley-mall.
When a Filipino domestic worker says she just came from doing aerobics, do not look for leotards.
HK Bank (HSBC main building) has one the biggest concentrations of Filipinos on Sundays. In one day of petition signing, we gathered about 2,000 signatures from the habitués of the place.
Winter has started when manangs sell coffee while summer commences when now-you-see, now-you-don't halo-halo stands sprout.
Singing is really a passion for Filipinos – be it outdoors in Chater Road or in videoke bars in little nooks and crannies of Central. And no, Born Free is not part of the repertoire. More of Carpenters and Abba.
If you are invited for a couple of parties on a single day, expect to eat loads of pancit from sunup to sundown.
The nominal wage now of foreign domestic workers in HK is HK$280 less than 1999. Real wage is most probably much less.

Alright, that last bit is not really trivial. It may even be one of the major reasons why I'm still here after 10 years … and why I may still be here for 10 more.

30+

2009-08-29T01:28:00.002+08:00

So I'm 30+.

If it wasn't for the fact that I spent my morning until 10:00 am or so answering texts and FB messages, I wouldn't really have thought much that it was my birthday. Being in a whole day meeting could do that.

Marking your 30^th I can understand for life shall begin after 10 more years – or so they said. With the 31^st, it's the fact that you are in your last digits with the Gregorian calendar. With 30+ … well it's like anything goes from now on.

Thanks to Kiks for the flattering and even more unflattering pics. (Tse! I'll get you for those two months from now!)

Thanks to friends and comrades who were there to eat and drink even for a few hours.

Thanks to those who greeted.

Thanks to those who believed I was 30.

Thanks to my mom who got speechless when I thought of her coming birthday instead of mine.

Thanks to the passion and fire I still have to continue for the years to come.

So I turned 30+. Big deal.

Just meant I got a +.

A soft start

2009-08-21T23:48:00.001+08:00

Now I realize blogging is not like riding a bicycle or sex. It is not something that once you learn how to do, it comes back easily enough to you even after a long period of break.

A lot has happened for the past two months that to write about them seems like a futile exercise now. Moreover, it seems impertinent to even think that anyone will be interested on how I buried myself in my work and how I sort of slid back to my old self before blogging beckoned and before my interest in social networking – real and virtual – kinda picked up again.

There has been no epiphany or something of that sort that led me to click that 'new post' button again after 60 days of not really caring about what will become of this blog. There's also nothing in particular I really want to write about except maybe the new appointment to the OWWA Board of Trustees that GMA made – details of which can be read at http://www.petitiononline.com/owwa4ofw/petition.html

But since the link is already here, there is no point in writing about it again. Yet.

I did find interesting though the photo exhibition of a friend of mine that I visited a few hours ago at the Goethe-Institute. She vividly captured the images and colors of Filipino migrants as they while away their dayoff on pavements, roads and footbridges of Central.

The scenes were so familiar to my eyes for I live them every Sunday. Familiar and, at the same time, quietly reaffirming: there's a community and a whole way of life that thrives and will continue to strive for as long as a decent living cannot be had in our own land.

Anyhow, it'll probably take a few more takes before my blogging mojos completely come back. But since bicycles and sex are hard to come by from where I am sitting right now, I'll be happy to wait.

A question on independence

2009-06-22T20:52:00.002+08:00

(This was printed in the June issue of the community newspaper True Friends. They requested me to write my thoughts on Independence day.)

Considering that there was a time in our history when the question of whether Philippine Independence Day started on 12^th June 1898 or 4^th July 1946 was raised, I cannot help but ask: are we really sure of our independence?

Some will probably say that it is a very simple matter for such a serious question. Some may even stop reading this article now thinking that it's a too serious topic to spend your free time with. Still others may ask the same question.

Since I started learning about Philippine history in school – which in the larger part was more of memorizing names, dates and places – I've been led to embrace the idea that Philippine Independence Day started there at the balcony of Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo's mansion in Kawit, Cavite. An event perfectly pictured in the two-peso bill I grew up with.

I am pretty sure that anyone who has ever heard of Magellan, Lapu-Lapu and Andres Bonifacio knows that we have been colonized by Spain. As well, I am confident that anyone who has ever heard of the Philippine-American War, Macario Sakay, and the term 'benevolent assimilation' knows that we have also been colonized by the United States of America (USA).

But what I may doubt is that anyone who has ever heard of the Bell Trade Act, parity rights, US-RP Military Bases Agreement, Visiting Forces Agreement, World Trade Organization and war on terror knows or even believes that we have never really strayed far from US' control.

Celebration of Independence Day does give us a sense of history. But history did not stop in Kawit, Cavite on June 12, 1898 nor when the US supposedly granted us freedom on July 4, 1946.

Independence is not only the freedom to wave your own flag or even speak your own language. Independence is not also merely having a Filipino as head of state or conducting rounds after rounds of elections. It is also not merely about having a defined territory. It is neither just a mere date nor a picture in a now forgotten bill.

It is the liberty to chart the country's destiny, to have sovereignty over own resources, and to make decisions and policies free from foreign dictates.

Based on these, if I may ask again: are we really sure of our independence?

If we are, then we probably do not have a proposed Charter Change that'll give up our resources for other nations to take over. We probably do not have US troops roaming all around the country – free to enter and leave – in the name of joint military exercises. Daniel Smith probably will still be in jail.

Probably, Nora Aunor wouldn't have shouted "My brother is not a pig!" in the movie Minsa'y Isang Gamu-Gamo after her brother was shot dead by US military men who mistook him as a wild boar.

Probably, the more than 3,000 Filipinos who are forced to go abroad just to survive will not be at the airport everyday.

Probably, not everyone knows who Mickey Mouse is.

Also, probably all of those who have been president of the country would not have hurried over to speak before the US Congress and pledge support and cooperation with the US as soon as they got elected.

In many ways, we are still in the tight grip of the US. Our economy is still dominated by US investments, our trade is dependent on the needs of US and other more powerful countries, our country is neck-deep in debts to the IMF and World Bank that are controlled by the US, and our culture and mindset are very much Americanized.

After growing up believing in Independence Day, waving mini-flags and dressing in barong tagalog, it may really be hard to believe and, more so, to accept that our independence has been more in words and less in practice.

But then again, starting to question what we have been led to believe is probably the best way to get us working for the real thing.

So if someone asks me if we should celebrate our Independence Day on June 12 or on July 4, I will probably answer: soon, I hope.

Pahabol sa Father's Day

2009-06-20T21:53:00.002+08:00

May point pa bang mag-sulat ng post hinggil sa Father's Day kung wala ka ng tatay?

(from left) Ka Nilo Arado, Chair, PAMANGGAS (KMP Panay Region), victim of enforced disappearance; Ka Randy Echanis, KMP Dep. Sec. for External Affairs, victim of 'arrest and detention'; Ka Fermin Lorico, Chair, KAUGMAON (KMP Negros Oriental), victim of extra-judicial killing

Oo.

Wala na ang tatay ko. Wala na akong magagawa dun.

Pero sa mga tatay na nasa itaas, meron pa. Kahit man lang sa antas na maipaabot sa ibang mga anak na may mga tatay na katulad nila. Kahit man lamang masuportahan sila sa paglaban para sa hustisya.

Para sa mga palabang ama, para sa mga amang biktima ng karahasan, para sa mga amang nangangarap at humahakbang para sa mas magandang buhay at lipunan sa lahat ng mga anak …. Maligayang Araw ng mga Ama sa inyong lahat!

(Ang picture ay mula sa facebook ni roy)

A virus like no other

2009-06-19T00:05:00.003+08:00

Together with the rising cases of swine flu in Hong Kong, another threat looms above Filipino domestic workers: that of racial profiling. This one can prove to be even more virulent than A(H1N1).

Our kababayans have not yet fully-recovered from getting tagged as 'Superbug' carriers a few months ago. Now here comes the HK government declaring that Filipino domestics – after one has been diagnosed with it together with three others who just arrived from the Philippines – are carriers of the dreaded A(H1N1) virus and has called for employers to restrict them in their days off and their mobility. What a lot of bull!

Alright, I don't mean to downplay the seriousness of the rapid spread of swine flu. Even the World Health Organization has declared it as an epidemic already and they are already stonewalled on its origin and how to effectively stop it from spreading. We do need to seriously take precautions and probably, foreign domestic workers are as concerned as most of us because their work is their family's bread and butter.

Still, why zoom in on Filipinos? To set the records straight, the first cases of swine flu in HK were not Filipinos and most of the recorded cases now are also not Filipinos; not even domestic workers to boot. So why are Americans, Australians, British and the whole dang HK population not given the same advice as a preventive measure?

In reality, foreign domestic workers are not as exposed to crowded places as the rest of the people in Hong Kong. They only have one day off in a week for chrissake! The only time they leave their employer's house for the rest of the week is either to go to the market or send and pick up their wards from school. They also do not have the capacity to travel outside of HK whenever they want to. If truth be told, who is really more prone to this epidemic?

Already, some people I know of have been warned by their employers against going to the places they frequent during their days off, were ordered to go out on a different day, or were commanded not to take a day off at all. They have already been uprooted from the Philippines and now they are again uprooted from their communities, friends, families and social practices – a whole way of life.

Public health is indeed the public's concern. But when it gets racist and discriminatory, it breeds a sickness to our humanity that is an epidemic of probably even greater proportion.

Con-Ass: Up yours!

2009-06-03T00:53:00.004+08:00

http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/breakingnews/nation/view/20090602-208506/-House-approves-constituent-assembly

House of Representatives or House of GMA?

What a shame!

Should we allow ourselves be conned by these asses?

Blocked

2009-06-02T01:23:00.002+08:00

I just spent the best part of the past six hours wracking my brain to come out with a decent write-up about wage and foreign domestic helpers. I failed.

It's irritating to say the least and worrisome at most when – as you seem to think – you have the analysis, the language and the outline but you still cannot put them into words that'll make sense and better yet, gather support for the cause of domestic workers in Hong Kong.

So what did I do today? Stared blankly at my computer screen, wrote sentences, deleted sentences, answered phone calls, dipped into other people's affairs, smoked, drank coffee and yeah, slacked. Probably the most productive things I did were to take the minutes of a meeting and finalize the title of what I was supposed to be writing.

I need to do better. If I don't, then these will probably happen:

My list of things-to-do will only get longer
I will not be able to go to Volume
I'll gain more weight
I will get cranky and ill-tempered and probably lose my Ms. Congeniality title
"@work" will be constantly plastered on my YM and only the most daring of my friends will send me a message
I will miss another week of Tayong Dalawa

Disastrous.

All because of a freakin' FAQ. FA-Q!

Black Monday

2009-05-25T19:54:00.003+08:00

I'm taking a break. From writing reports for our board meeting, from arranging interviews for a coming researcher, from preparing stuff needed for the coming days, sa pag-e-emote, from thinking about the birds, the bees, the birds, the birds ….

Because …

… the peaceful peasants' campout in front of the Congress was violently dispersed. For 40 days, farmers tirelessly manned the camp to push for the approval of the Genuine Agrarian Reform Bill. Truncheons and not land, water cannon and not rights, were the answers of House Speaker Prospero Nograles and the government's armed forces to their demand.

… Fil-Am activist Melissa Roxas and her two companions, Juanito Carabeo and John Edward Handoc, were abducted by suspected military elements last May 19 in Tarlac. Melissa is a cultural activist from LA and a member of BAYAN-USA. This morning, Melissa was "surfaced" but there were still no words as to the fate of her two companions. Even migrants and immigrants – the country's so-called heroes – are not spared anymore from human rights violations of this state.

… for the GMA government and her blood-thirsty butchers, it is a crime to be a Pitao. Just this afternoon, news came out that Evelyn Pitao, sister of NPA leader Leoncio Pitao was murdered at her house with her common-law husband. In June 2008, suspected military elements gunned down his brother Danilo Pitao. In March 2009, Leoncio's 20-year old daughter Rebelyn Pitao, a schoolteacher, was abducted and later on was found brutally raped and murdered. They were all civilians. They were all Pitaos.

When will being Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo become a crime?

Nakakainis. Nakakagalit. Lunes na Lunes.

Saka na nga muna ang birds and the bees, and the birds and the birds …

Some endings

2009-05-21T00:41:00.004+08:00

Spoiler alert!

***

It's the end of the road for the ex-prisoners of Fox River after running from seemingly endless enemies and unfortunate events. Honestly, I found the whole Scylla storyline (though it was the core of the whole thing) quite dragging and even the twist of the long-lost mother's appearance was a wee bit of a stretch. The first season was still Prison Break's best and I guess it was the one that got me hooked on the show and I just had to follow it through to the end.

If you're a sucker for happy endings, don't watch the last five minutes of its finale.

***

Another day has gone for Jack Bauer of 24. The twist on the life of Tony Almeida was not really that good after having watched his character in previous seasons.

I watch the show for its fast-paced story and the latest season did what was expected. However, if Jack pulls through again from where the script left him – in bed dying – he's really one lucky bastard.

***

Grey's Anatomy has always been one of my favorites. The characters are just so diverse and they always have their own stories to tell. I guess it's what makes it interesting for at the end of each season, you don't only ask what will happen to Meredith Grey but to the whole bunch of Seattle Grace's doctors.

Meredith and Derek appear to be settling down, Cristina has the hottie Dr. Hunt, McSteamy has mellowed down with Little Grey and Dr. Bailey has again shown where to hurt her most: her family.

Meanwhile, Alex Karev's character got more action in the latest season and he showed what he got (too bad, there was not much shirt off scenes of him).

As for George and Izzie, what will happen to them is the biggest question for the next season. Who's gonna die? For me, I love George but for chrissake, can't he play gay next time?

***

I will just echo what many fans have written of Brothers and Sisters' season finale: what the f*ck was that?

***

I am not much into endings because it's tiring to grapple with the question of when you'll really end something.

?

2009-05-14T01:01:00.002+08:00

Snobbish-looking, yuppie, pierced, and with an office ID hanging around his neck. Probably just came out of the office and wasting time off before heading home, so I thought.

He went around the crowd, said hi to a few guys and bantered with some more. Another guy, obviously into him, monopolized him for a while. Probably a habitué, so I guessed.

He asked for a cocktail and beer that he drank alternately. Fascinating and a bit weird, so I mused.

I went back to nurse my beer.

Then for reasons I could not remember, probably the increasing crowd, he was right there standing right beside me – still looking aloof, still dressed like a yuppie, still with that ID around his neck, still with a glass of cocktail and a bottle of beer in his hands, pierced and (I noticed) tattooed.

And we talked.

He was not a snob. He was just on his way to work. He only knew the guys by their faces. He had only been there a couple of times. The other guy had been stalking him for two hours already, and yeah, his drinks combo was a bit weird but it somehow kept him from getting sloshed.

So much for probabilities.

We talked, got closer, talked, held hands, talked, got closer and ….

"What's the point of being in a relationship if you can't be physically together?"

So much for possibilities.

Though I don't want to think about it anymore, I sometimes do wonder if I got it wrong. Again.

What happens in Manila, (unfortunately) stays in Manila

2009-05-11T21:16:00.003+08:00

"So anong plano mo pag-uwi?"

"Wala. Since I'm definitely coming back here, I'm not planning to do things that I may regret."

Yan ang sinabi ko kay Kiks bago ako umuwi. I planned to be on a break and when I said break, it was really more of not thinking of things that should be done but just playing it by the ear and do what takes my fancies.

Most of the time, I was with my family and relatives. Tumigil ako sa bahay, inikot ang mga kamag-anak, nakinig ng radyo, nakipag-agawan sa mga pamangkin over the internet, nag-isaw, nag-halo-halo at naglaro ng PSP hanggang madaling-araw. Umuwi rin ako sa Batangas, naki-pyesta, nakipag-inuman sa mga tiyuhin at nakipag-diskusyon kung ano ba ang corruption at kung bakit ayaw ko kay GMA - habang masama ang titig ng mga bisitang pulis.

Naki-Mayo Uno rin ako syempre. Pagkatapos ng halos sampung taon, naka-martsa ulit mula uste hanggang LB at mula LB hanggang emba. Sa haba ng lakad na yun, nakipag-reunion na rin sa mga kasama nung bata pa. Nakita ang mga may-asawa, ang mga wala pa, at ang mga nagladlad na. To cap that day, I went to a free concert nina Lolita Carbon, The Jerks, at iba pa.

In between family and politics, I did go out.

Then I met Zeke.

And I thought of what I told Kiks.

… and so it ends, and begins, again

2009-05-09T23:31:00.001+08:00

Time does not fly. It just zooms away.

Nineteen days is not a very long time. I can even recite my itinerary day-by-day, blow-by-blow. And I swear, not much blowing was done.

Yes, time out is over. By normal standards though, whenever I go to the Philippines for any length of time, I am not really on an absolute break. But of course, what does constitute a break? Chika lang. I'm not gonna masturbate about breaks.

Anyway, it's not yet time to blog about what happened in 19 days. Suffice to say that I did enjoy my stay, reacquainted myself with some companions of my youth (naks!), spent time home listening to my mom gush about our parish priest (she'll adopt him soon if she can and it's definitely better than urging me to take up THAT habit), and did spur of the moment stuff that I will not regret though will toy with in my mind from time to time.

One thing I am kinda disappointed though is that I never got the chance to meet with some blogger friends. Oh well, next time.

By tomorrow, it's Hong Kong life once again. It'll probably be another 19 months or so before I can take that break again. Or not.

It's fine. Time zooms away. Right?

How to lose your social life in 10 hours

2009-04-02T01:03:00.002+08:00

You woke up feeling refreshed after a relatively good sleep. Good because your mind was not filled with what should be done the next day for everything has been set in motion.

The evening, you thought, would be quite easy for your usual schedule has changed and you could probably swing by the bar and meet your friends for drinks.

Then your morning workload hit. You held your plans at bay and put your mind on the job at hand. Like a predator zooming in on a prey and thinking about how you could bring it down the fastest and easiest way. You wouldn't want to be too tired to enjoy your feast later.

Lunch time came and you set off for your favorite Nepali restaurant. Good food, good price and a place to have an easy conversation over a can of Coke and a stick of cigarette.

You went back to the office to do the remaining stuff in your list simply marked as TTD. The hours ticked.

Then Chip Tsao apologized. And you found it wanting.

Sorry but I'm just misunderstood. Sorry but English is an international language open to interpretation. Sorry but it was really a satire. Sorry but it was fictional. Sorry but it was not my intention. Sorry but blah, blah blah.

Why couldn't it be just 'sorry I was wrong'?

You realized you got to do more against racism and class discrimination.

Thus, you stayed in the office until 1:00 am. Then you remembered that April Fool's Day just passed you by.

Between agitation and titillation

2009-03-31T17:39:00.003+08:00

I want to blog about sex and love.

But it's hard to have a titillating blog when you are confronted with the face of Chip Tsao splattered in the internet, print media and TV. How can I think of blogging when all I want to do is wash that oh-so-innocent smile off Tsao's face and tell him that there's a big difference between satire and a distasteful piece, a witty article over a racist writeup against a whole people and a particular sector who have been eating abuses and discrimination for breakfast?

Tsao can go the whole stretch of defending his column but at the end of it, Filipinos and the Filipino domestic workers in Hong Kong felt demeaned.

If he made fun of GMA instead, I'll probably cheer him on. If he espoused a change in the situation of domestic workers in Hong Kong, I'll sincerely invite him for a cup of tea.

While Tsao's face haunts me for a couple of hours a day, another blood-curling news that keeps me from blogging comes by: foreign maids are not included in any statutory minimum wage for HK workers. The reason given by the Labour Advisory Board was that since maids work for 16 HOURS A DAY, they cannot likely give them its equivalence of HK$12,480 in a month!

Hmmm, so is the problem with the wage or the working hours?

So after a series of meetings with government agencies who gave them hope they'll be considered in this process, foreign domestic workers are again left in the ditch. Typical Hong Kong.

Maybe next time I'll really blog about sex and love. As long as my libido and romanticism hold up against my agitation at looking at Tsao's photo and dreading the next bad thing to happen to FDWs.

Pasakalye

2009-03-25T23:59:00.002+08:00

Maraming pwedeng mangyari sa loob ng isang buwan. Maari nang tirhan ng alien molds ang naiwang kape at mag-amoy ipis ang hindi sinindihang yosi.

Pwede ka ring magka-crush, lumipas ang crush, magka-crush ulit sa dating crush hanggang dumating sa punto na sobrang diluted and nonsensical na ang salitang ito and it has become similar to saying "I love you" while you are reaching the peak in a one-night stand. Or a one-hour stand.

Sa loob ng isang buwan, pwede ka ring mawalan ng ganang mag-bate: mag-bate ng mga topics, pigain ang sarili at write them into a piece that can make sense of your jumbled thoughts. It's much easier to write about women's day, the murder of Rebelyn and even the irresponsible charge that Filipinos are 'Superbug' carriers than compose your thoughts on what you have done for the day.

Kaya marami kang unfinished drafts na pinaglipasan na ng lasa kaya ayaw mo ng tapusin. Pwede ka ng magpa-gimik ng choose your own ending.

Pwede ka ring maka-byahe sa loob ng isang buwan. You will like the place. It's serene, has no high-rise, walang nakakabaliw na traffic at maraming nakakabaliw na lalaki. Then you'll realize that it is more artificial than Hong Kong especially when you hear of the crackdown against Burmese migrants or the gay-bashing of a group of thugs during Gay Pride that did not even solicit a reaction from the powers that be. Doon, tago at ibinubulong ang mga bagay na dapat ay pinag-uusapan in the open at isinisigaw sa lansangan para malaman ng lahat.

Also, mare-realize mo rin na malagkit ang magpa-aromatherapy massage especially kapag hindi lang langis ang naipahid sa'yo..

In a month, you'll realize that you have only one more month to go before you can again take the jeepney.

Pagkatapos din ng isang buwan, pwede ka na ulit mag-timpla ng kape sa bagong mug at magsindi ng bagong yosi.

Then you'll realize na masarap pa rin ang mag-blog.

Singular sensation*

2009-02-23T15:08:00.003+08:00

Recently, I've been having thoughts about being single. I don't know why but maybe, just maybe, it's because I am.

Or maybe it's because every time I talk to a family member, any one of them is bound to ask me if I have "someone" in my life. Then, I'm always bound to say, "I don't have a someone. I have many-ones."

Or maybe it's because of a botched meet up with A.

Or maybe guys and relationships are the usual topics I have with my gay friends. I don't mind.

Maybe that's it. I don't mind being single. You can't miss something you never had, eh?

I know what it's like to be in a relationship. Having been around with people in various stages and types of romantic relationships has given me a fair picture of what's it like. Yeah, some may disagree and say that to really know one is to be in one. I do concur but it does not debunk what I so far understand about relationships. It is the same as I don't have to be a woman to understand the basics of women's concerns.

Being in a relationship has its ups and downs. There are high moments and low ones. It's a life bound by the same economic, political, social and cultural conditions, blah blah blah. Just like being single.

I do believe that everyone has to have someone with them. But it is not necessarily with a romantic someone.

I am single but I am not alone. I've never felt alone and it's probably due to the constant presence of comrades, family and friends. It's a belongingness that works for me now.

I don't mean to say that I'll be single for life. Romance is not known to be ageist. And yeah, I will take THAT step sometime, somehow.

As matters stand now though, I am happy being single. Anyway, who says that happiness cannot be had single-handed?

* Title was suggested by G: the ultimate sensational single (?) guy.

ID’ed

2009-02-20T16:39:00.002+08:00

Dahil marami akong sinulat pero isa man ay hindi pang-blog, ito na lang …

Salamat kay Kiks sa pag-aayos.

This Sunday and beyond

2009-02-07T02:18:00.002+08:00

This Sunday will have the first major protest action of OFWs in Hong Kong against the ban on direct hiring imposed at the start of this year.

I mentioned the issue in a previous post and the points remain unchanged. The new rule still sucks. It sucks not only for domestic helpers in Hong Kong because it covers everyone in all countries and even professionals as it stipulated that direct hiring for them shall only be allowed for 10 employees per company.

A couple of things though came up after the issue has been brought to fore.

First is the barrage of statements from no less than the people responsible for rule that have not helped at all but instead muddled the basic flaw of the rule. Ranging from the ridiculous reason that only a few will be affected – yeah right, so let the overzealous recruiters have these precious few to get overcharged as well – to the even more ridiculous and made up distinction between name hiring and direct hiring.

Then there's also the matter about rehires and those applying with new employers. The memorandum does not make any distinction and so even if agencies currently say that these OFWs are not included, there's no telling when it will finally become a blanket rule. Probably if protests fizzle out.

To top it all off, there is this Administrative Order 247 recently issued also that directs recruitment agencies to be more aggressive in seeking out labor markets for Filipino migrants. Considering that the Magna Carta for OFWs explicitly said that the government does not promote labor export, this order obviously says otherwise.

While a growing number of OFWs get laid off from work, have their wages reduced or are facing non-renewal of contracts, there is still no clear program of protection and services established to cushion the blow of the raging crisis to Filipino migrants.

What we have are OFWs from Taiwan who got fired last year and are still waiting in vain for that promised assistance package. What we get is the news that an OFW in Hong Kong got hit by a bus and died reportedly because he was walking dazed and disoriented after getting the axe as well.

What we do now have is this ban that offers OFWs to unscrupulous recruiters in a silver platter.

So yeah, a major protest action is called for. Surely won't be the last in the very near future.

*****

On a more personal note, I've been slacking recently. I'm still managing but I do need to up my ante if I am to pull off what I should be doing in the next few days.

Time to resort to what I have learned whenever I'm jittery and dreading what is about to come: it will happen and all I can do is prepare myself so that by the next day, I can still say that "it ain't that bad".

Uninspired

2009-01-25T00:33:00.003+08:00

Nag-enjoy sa Slumdog Millionaire. Nagka-crush ulit kay Tony Leung sa Red Cliff. Agitated pa rin sa ban on direct hiring. Nakipag-chikahan sa dalawang kaibigan hinggil sa relasyon. Nakipag-dinner sa mga beckies. Nakipag-inuman. Nakipag-date.

Pero wala pa ring ganang mag-blog.

Masyadong malamig ang winter.

Siguro.

Again, again, again

2009-01-12T20:16:00.002+08:00

If a policy can be called the "undead", I think ban of direct hiring can qualify as such. It just keeps on rearing its ugly head every time you think it is dead.

Around this time last year, the Philippine Overseas Employment Administration (POEA) issued Memorandum Circular No. 04 that prohibited direct hiring or sometimes called name hiring of Filipino migrants. Direct hiring is processing without going through recruitment agencies, thus exempting the applicant from paying placement fees that run up to more than P100,000 for DHs even though the legal limit is only the equivalence of a month's salary. This policy also carried the ridiculous employment bond brouhaha.

Due to the uproar MC-04 created, it was withdrawn after one month.

Now, the Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE) issued a memorandum, (again!), banning direct hiring. But this time only targeting domestic helpers while for white-collars, direct hiring is limited to up to 10 employees per company. Like a broken record player, DOLE justified the rule to (again!) "protect OFWs."

Such a reason and such a rule are not new. In 1994, POEA issued MC-41 that basically said the same thing and also aimed for the same protection mantra. For years OFWs, especially in Hong Kong, campaigned against MC-41 and in 2001, DOLE issued Department Order No. 11 that revoked MC-41.

Now, DO-11 said: "In line with the State policy to afford adequate protection to Overseas Filipino Workers, POEA Memorandum Circular No. 41, Series of 1994, is hereby revoked".

What kind of a convoluted mind can use the same reason to justify two opposing sides – banning direct hiring and allowing direct hiring?

What is tricky about the new DOLE order is that it now focuses mainly, as I said, on DHs. This is probably because they were shaken by the reaction of the white-collar workers on the MC-04 and thought that professionals will now be more accepting of the ban.

But targeting only DHs should not make the ban more acceptable. In fact, it makes it more condemnable for it withdraws government responsibility to protect DHs who are very vulnerable during this time of crisis. It transfers such responsibility to recruitment agencies who we all know are mainly a blood-sucking bunch concerned only on how they can make the most from the migration process.

Agencies that provide a semblance of protection to OFWs and services to those in need are as rare as an honest word from GMA. But on second thought, honest and GMA don't really mix. So just think of Edward Cullen's family in Twilight.

But like in the same story, even "immortals" can die. They just need to get chopped into little pieces and burned to ashes.

This is probably what the ban also deserves.

Before 2008 left

2009-01-01T14:32:00.003+08:00

The holiday season turned out real happy and such a blast.

We were able to pull this off: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=O13X_F0XWlM. It was political and, at the same time, so fun to do. It did rain but it did not dampen the anti-chacha spirit of the dancers.

Gifts. This was the only Christmas that I received more than two gifts including a Magical Orb that told me that I'll have a boyfriend this 2009 but we will also break up within the year. Talk about giving me a high and crushing my morale in a span of one minute.
Went to a Christmas party with my gay friends and drank the whole night away together with never-ending stories and laments about men and relationships. Why does Christmas, at times, bring to fore what should not be brought up? Still, it was loads of fun. Then I went home with a slight hangover and a big crush. Joke!
Finished reading Twilight. Though it's not something I am inclined to read again – as is my habit – it was alright. Half of the time I was reeling to strangle Bella to make up her mind and the other half imagining how it feels like to be torn between the likes of Edward and Jacob. It was a light read. Somewhat like Harry Potter but with fangs.
Greeted the New Year with fellow migrant workers and became the Fruitsalad Queen. I am not sure if I ever stopped smiling and laughing for five straight hours. Does it mean that I'll be like this for the rest of the year?

Other stuff that happened here and there: a dinner with Kiks and a good friend, Steve; an unplanned sleepover that made me discover an unknown sleeping disorder of mine, and; the biggest 'birthday' event I've ever been.

It was a perfect two weeks. Well, almost … if only Israel did not go all berserk, bombed Gaza, and spouted the same mantra of "terrorism" that Bush used to spout just before he invaded Afghanistan and Iraq.

Happy New Year everyone!

Closet Talks

2008-12-19T03:56:00.002+08:00

I've been thinking about closets recently and it's not just because Kiks and I are thinking of looking for one that can accommodate clothes and knick-knacks accumulated for years.

A question that nagged me a couple of days back was: can a relationship between an out gay man and a closeted one work? My opinion is that, yes it might for a while but there will come a point where the matter will have to get resolved: should the closeted person come out or the out gay guy comes back in the closet?

Basically, I think that for an out gay guy, going back to the closet is a very hard thing to do. It's too constricting, it's dark, it's messy and it's a place you'll never want to come back to once you've experienced being in the open. After the personal liberation of coming out, to be guarded once again with how you act, how you speak and the freedom of saying that "he's hot" to anyone without apologies is surely a gut-wrenching decision.

But of course, coming out is a decision that must not be forced. Else, instead of that sweet feeling of finally being able to do so, it becomes a bitter source of resentment and self-loathing.

Thoughts about closets once again came up after I finally watched Milk.

Indeed it was about the life of Harvey Milk. But it was the message of what he did while he lived that struck me more powerfully: gays must come out.

His advocacy to promote the rights of gays and protect the gains of the gay movement was both acts for out gay men to rally and an encouragement for closeted guys to come out. He thus worked for policies that could set the condition for those in the closet to be able to come out without shame and fear of any form of retribution.

Like any movement for change, it has ups and downs. But perseverance is hinged on and can lead to hope. For at the end, anyone who has been in an oppressed condition will want for a better one.

Every pride march, every rally for a gay cause and every time that someone speaks and acts for gay rights is a message to those in the closet that says, yes it can be done. Moreover, it must be done for, cliché as it may sound; it is in being and doing things together that give us the resolve to push forward.

Now I know I sound agitated.

Still the films let me look back to the times I spent inside the comfort of a closet that is actually a prison. We always say that experience is the best teacher and closets are not built to allow one to live and learn from the nooks and crannies of the gay life.

And yeah, if I have to live the gay life with someone like James Franco, I'll smash that closet into pieces.

Ayokong magmura, pero …

2008-12-15T21:33:00.003+08:00

Namputcha naman!

http://www.tribune.net.ph/commentary/20081215com1.html

Nang mabasa ko ito, hindi ko napigilan ang mainis. Hindi lang ito simpleng gimik. Walang kahihiyang panloloko na ito.

Sa mga susunod na buwan eh nanganganib na mawalan ng trabaho ang libo-libong mga OFWs. Ang balita nga, mahigit 1,000 pa ang mapapauwi mula sa Taiwan ngayong buwang ito. Sa Macau ay may 500 na ang natanggal sa trabaho sa construction sector at may mahigit pang 12,000 na migrante ng iba't ibang lahi na nagta-trabaho sa casino ang hindi na raw ire-renew ang kontrata. Meron pang 500 sa property sector naman sa UAE ang nawalan na ng trabaho.

Kung sa kada 100 mapapa-uwing OFW ay magpapa- photo-op si Gloria, sana ay tamaan na sya ng kidlat sa pagiging sinungaling.

***

Namputcha naman ulit!

http://www.facebook.com/inbox/?ref=mb#/group.php?gid=42044632270

Ilang linggo ko na ring nababasa ang hinggil sa isyu na ito: ang pagkakait ng tenure ng Sociology Department ng College of Social Sciences and Philosophy (CSSP) ng UP Diliman kay Prop. Sarah Raymundo.

Ni ha ni ho ay walang sinabi ang puno ng departamento kung bakit. Basta na lamang sinabihan si Prop. Raymundo na hindi na nya kailangang magturo simula noong Nobyembre 6 at matatanggal na sya sa unibersidad pagkatapos ng kanyang kontrata sa Marso. Sampung taon ng nagtuturo si Sarah sa UP at naabot na nya ang mga rekisito para maging tenured faculty – may MA, magandang ebalwasyon ng kapwa-guro at estudyante, at may mga na-publish na sa mga kinikilalang journals.

Dahil wala namang iba pang maibigay na rason, simple lamang ang pagsusuri ng mga kapwa-guro, kaibigan at kasama ni Sarah: aktibista kasi sya.

Malayang kaisipan sa malayang pamantasan. Diba? Diba?!

Sa personal na antas, kilala ko na si Sarah noong estudyante pa lang sya. CNS sya at LFS ako. Kabatak, kaibigan at kasama. Bakla sya kung baklaan ang usapan pero hindi rin sya umuurong sa seryosong mga talakayan.

Ano na ba ang nangyayari sa UP Diliman?

***

Pagkatapos ng aking mga rants, Pride naman.

Wagi sya. Yun lang. Sa susunod na Pride March ulit …

(Salamat kay Kiks sa pagpapahiram ng larawan)

Pride against prejudice

2008-12-09T11:21:00.003+08:00

A couple of things inspired me to write this. First was Lyka's post on the movie Milk. Second was the coming first Pride March in Hong Kong this Saturday. Third was because a friend of mine urged me to write about Pride.

But at the end, it is because I am gay.

Pride is a deadly sin and so they said. But if you've taken beatings once too many, it is liberating.

When I think of Pride, I think of celebration. I haven't been in a Pride March for it was only in Hong Kong did I come out. But anybody who's seen Queer as Folk or just knows how to browse the internet will have seen the rainbow of colors decorating floats and marchers in all the Pride events in the world.

When I think of Pride, I think of men and women – homosexuals and heterosexuals – who, in their own ways, have strived to make this world a place where gays need not live in fear. Of groups like Progay Philippines who have endeavored to make homosexuality a matter that should not only be discussed in hushed whispers or within the walls of the academe. Of the likes of Jonjon whose case has shown that reasons abound for such marches.

When I think of Pride, I think not only of individual pride on who I am, how I turned out to be and how I will still be. Beyond this is the collective pride in the community whose struggles have seen highs and lows but still standing. There may be differences in opinions and various debates even among us but still, the common cause against discrimination and prejudices and destroying the myths on homosexuality remains.

Lyka asked how far have we gone since the time of Harvey Milk? If I may dare add, how far are we willing to go?

I know that you cannot live on hope alone. But without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you and you gotta give them hope. – Harvey Milk

The Pride March may only be for one day and, in fact, for only two hours. But the pride and hope that it gives may last for a lifetime.

***

On a different but related note, tomorrow is the International Human Rights Day. Allow me to share this video of the human rights situation in the Philippines. Nothing that I may say can equal the message that the images here evoke.

Emote lang

2008-12-06T01:47:00.001+08:00

Lately, I've been feeling restless. I feel like I'm drifting.

It's not about work. I still love what I'm doing and it is not that stressful. If truth be told, the pressure of the past month was not as great as before.

It ain't about romance as well because I've already made peace with my decision months ago to not dwell on it for the rest of the year. After a couple of bumps, I have moved on and I've no plans of stopping.

Maybe it is because I haven't been home for the past 18 months. Though I am used to being away, this is the longest period that I haven't taken a home leave since I arrived in Hong Kong nine years ago and I think the longing is getting into me.

Some may say that HK is not like on the other side of the world. Still it is not easy to just pack a bag and go home for a while. Also, I'll definitely need more than a weekend to satisfy this craving to be with my family and just be in the Philippines.

Oh well, in a couple of months, I'll be taking that leave. I've lasted this long and I can take four months more. If this is indeed what is making me restless and feeling adrift, then I guess I will know soon.

But if it is not, that's another matter.

***

A friend of mine suggested that it may just be sex. This one can easily be tested.

Pakistan week

2008-11-29T22:49:00.003+08:00

Tinatamad akong magsulat. Kaya eto na lang muna ang mga litrato ng aking limang araw sa Lahore, Pakistan.

Ang ecumenical centre kung saan kami tumira, nag-workshop, nag-bible study at kumain ng masasarap na Pakistani … food.

Ang Lahore Museum na isa sa pinakamalaki at pinakamatanda sa buong mundo. In fairness naman eh talagang malaki sya at matatanda na ang makikita dun. Including the guard.

Ang rickshaw na syang mode of transpo sa kanila. Bukod sa laksa-laksang motorbikes.

Isa sa mga mosque. Halos 99% ng kanilang populasyon eh Muslim. Kaya nagpaka-butch ako.

Hindi ko kilala ang unggoy na ito. Entertainer sya sa kalye. Nagandahan siguro sa akin kaya tumalon sa bintana ng van.

Eto ang aming sinakyan nang minsang gumala kami. Ayoko sanang sumakay for an obvious reason.

Marami pang nangyari at marami pa akong nakita. Iba't iba ang mga balitang lumalabas about Pakistan at most of them give a scary impression of the place. This trip made me look at the country and its people in a different light.

Also, I'll never look at a Pakistani guy the same way again. Wagi! (Sorry walang picture kasi baka bigla akong ma-bembang kapag bigla ko na lang silang piniktyuran)

Bayard who?

2008-11-21T00:21:00.002+08:00

I came across his character in the movie "Boycott" but I never really became aware of the man until I saw Brother Outsider.

When one hears of the civil rights movement in the United States, the name Martin Luther King comes to mind. But lurking in the background – in fact, way before King became a symbol of the Black American's struggle for their rights – was Bayard Rustin. A gay activist.

Admittedly, I am not that familiar with the history of the civil rights movement aside from the Montgomery bus boycott, the Ku Klux Klan and the deplorable practice of lynching.

To know the life of Bayard Rustin is to admire his guts for standing up to a system and period where it was a curse to be black and an abomination to be gay. But he did live the life he knew in his heart was right.

I may not agree with his pacifist principles but considering the historical period he lived in, how he stood by what he believed in is admirable at the very least. Despite the repression he faced mainly from the state and at some point from his colleagues – due to his sexuality and color – he just pushed on and on.

"The proof that one truly believes is in action." So true.

Of mixed signs and signals

2008-11-16T19:49:00.003+08:00

One of the stuff we hate but cannot avoid.

It is really frustrating to say the least. Is it really hard to say what you mean, mean what you say, do what you mean and mean what you do?

If consciously done, mixed signals are downright mean, scheming and manipulative. If done inadvertently, they bespeak of indecision.

In the 10 fabulous things with being gay (I forgot the exact title), they said that gay guys know what they want thus we go out of our way to really specify who we are and what we are looking for: rice queen, potato queen, chubs, bears, top, bottom, versa, etc.

While it does sometimes make things simpler, I can't help but think that it somehow also diminishes that certain kind of pleasure in discovering what else is out there and how one thinks about it in relation to his own self. Isn't self-awareness a continuing process?

But on the other hand, not knowing takes one back to the nerve-wracking, head-splitting world of mixed signals.

Catch -22. Damn if you do. Damn if you don't.

Oh well, maybe there really is no way of avoiding mixed signals. Maybe it just boils down to learning the trick of identifying the primary signals from the secondary ones and the imagined signals from real ones.

Though up to now, I'm still trying to grapple the meaning of this sign:

But this one is totally different:

It's kinda blurred but it says: "Shirts and Shoes Required. Bras and Panties, Optional". Fairly straightforward if one can wrap his mind on the fact that I found these in a restaurant. Effectively stopped me from entering.

At least this sign knows what it wants:

If only it can say it properly. (Sigh!)

Hooked

2008-11-10T19:08:00.003+08:00

On books.

Yeah, I've rediscovered the joy of reading books. Not that I stopped reading. But in this age of computers, internet, ebooks and audiobooks, I did miss the feeling of flipping pages instead of clicking buttons.

There is a certain kind of relaxation that reading an actual book can give. And once you turn that last page of a really good one, heaven.

The other week, I did a spending spree at a book sale and took home a couple of titles. I'm almost done with the third book and this got me hooked again on Dune.

For many sci-fi followers, Frank Herbert's Dune series is like one of THE books to read. Through Dune, Dune Messiah, Children of Dune, God Emperor of Dune, Heretics of Dune, and Chapterhouse: Dune, Herbert created a new universe and spawned the saga of the Atreides, Harkonnens, Bene Gesserits, the Spacing Guild, the Fremen and a host of other memorable characters.

After his death, Brian Herbert and Kevin Anderson wrote more Dune novels that were basically background stories that set the stage for Dune – the trilogy Prelude to Dune and the Legends of Dune, also a trilogy.

There are some who even philosophize passages in the book that, when one thinks about it, do have some truth or at the very least, some points to ponder especially on the workings of religion and the impacts of ecology to human.

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

This is probably the most-quoted line of Dune. Called the Litany of Fear, I am not really sure if saying it over and over again can indeed make one face its fear. But it is somehow a comforting perspective on the topic.

I am a Dune addict. Like most Dune characters are with melange.

After Hunters of Dune and Sandworms of Dune – said to be the climax – I'm not sure what else will be there to write about it. But as it is fiction, it can really go on forever depending on the author's imagination.

Where will it lead to?

Paul Muad' Dib did say that to know the future is to be trapped by it. And who would want to?

Nagpaparamdam

2008-10-25T12:58:00.004+08:00

Sabado. Oktubre beinte-singko. Magba-blog ako.

***

Naisip ko na may mass recruitment ang Dead Daddies' Society noong nakaraang linggo. Ilang kaibigan at kakilala ko rin ang namatayan ng mga tatay.

Yung isa, biglang nakadama ng pagakahilo at panghihina mga isang oras bago nya nabalitaan na namatay na tatay nya. Natandaan ko tuloy ang naramdaman kong pagkabalisa noong araw din na namatay ang tatay ko.

Premonition? Ewan kung may siyentipikong paliwanag dito. Baka naman masagot ng Fringe (ang bagong TV series na kinahuhumalingan ko) ang tanong na ito.

***

Sa huling post ko, nangako ako na babalik sa blogging. May mga pagkakataon din talagang mahirap tumupad sa pangako.

Tulad na lang ng pangako ni Angelo kay Yna sa Pangako Sa'Yo. It took eight DVDs with six volumes each and each volume has about five 30-min episodes bago natupad ang pangako nya. Nakakangalay ang mag fast forward. In the end, si Yna pala ang tunay na Buenavista at si Angelo ay anak ni Diego na hindi rin naman pala Buenavista.

Still, gwapo nga si Jericho.

Sabi ni Oracle, "one cannot see beyond the choices he fully understands". Pero one cannot also have full understanding of the choices he makes until the process takes its course.

Hindi ko alam ang relasyon nito kay Yna at Angelo. Naisip ko lang.

***

Sabi ng isang kaibigan ko sa akin dati: "if you had a wife, she'd be your mistress".

Ito ay matapos ang ilang beses na hindi ko nagawang paunlakan ang paanyaya nyang magkape o kumain sa labas. Maraming kailangang gawing trabaho.

Buti na lang, bakla ako.

***

Andaming sumusulpot na mga isyu at hindi ko sya mai-blog. Saka na lang siguro.

***

May mga tao ba talagang manhid?

May hinihintay ako.

The longest-running-whatever of my entire gay life

2008-10-07T12:54:00.002+08:00

Alright, since I've spilled the beans on the fictional rejection, I might as well run through the whole gauntlet and talk about real ones. It can be exorcism at its best and masochism at its worst.

I think there can be two general types of rejection.

The first is the one that just comes naturally even without the other guy saying it. It is a matter of interpreting the signals from the other guy that can come in various forms, and degrees of obviousness. The more complicated and can drive you insane are of course the mixed signals. But as time passes, they usually sort themselves out.

I've been in this spot a couple of times. It's frustrating and leaves you with the feeling that you're hanging upside down and anytime, any day, you're gonna get the axe. It's like you are on trial for the crime of falling first.

But the axe never falls and what you are given is a suspended sentence until you get off the hook completely.

The second one is the in-your-face rejection that many of us try to avoid as much as possible. At the very least, it is an awkward situation for both parties but it also kinda shows their maturity.

Yes, I've also been in this spot. This time I'm not kidding though there was less drama than what I imagined in the last post. And no, it was not Kiel. It was with a common friend of ours.

This guy was not the usual guy I go for. I knew him by reputation even before I saw him larger than life. Believe me, he is large (height-wise, at least).

When I saw him at last, I played it real cool. I treated him like a usual guest though my insides were tied in knots. No, I'm not gonna say why I liked him that time because I'm sure he's reading this right now and I like to think that he's squirming in his seat at this moment.

Anyway, it was an on-and-off thing for he was not based in Hong Kong. But it was the longest-running-whatever of my entire gay life. Started in 2001 and ended in 2005.

But now we are friends. It's funny how I used to be all fidgety when he's around and afraid to even just message him online for I didn't know what to really say to him. Now, we even make fun of those happy days.

I guess if you look at love and relationship as something that you should work for, then its value depends on how much effort you put on it. In the face of rejection, how it is dealt with it depends on how hard you work to get the elusive mutuality of feelings. The more you put, the deeper it goes. The deeper it goes, the longer it is for acceptance to come and for moving on to start.

Maybe it's why breaking up is harder. At the end of it, isn't a breakup just another form of rejection?

Here is the thing: after the rejections, I did recover in a jiffy and in only one or two cases did I break down once or twice. Still, I got to recover. And thinking about it, even maybe too quickly.

Now I wonder, have I not loved that deeply?

This was supposed to be posted yesterday but I was not sure if I should. It started as a dare and it ended as … well, like I said above, an exorcism.

Moving On (again)

2008-10-02T01:35:00.004+08:00

Binasted ako ni Kiel.

Kahit malayo, sumubok ako. Nagpahayag ako ng damdamin sa kanya. Kung paanong ang unang atraksyon ay lumalim sa madalas na pag-uusap, kwentuhan, palitan ng opinyon at mga biruan. Syempre may halong sexual undertones pa minsan.

Marahil ay hindi talaga kami para sa isa't isa. Hindi nagtutugma ang aming kalagayan para sa isa sanang magandang pagsasamahan. Masakit man ay kailangan ko yung tanggapin. Wala naman akong magagawa. O mas tama sigurong sabihin na sa kasalukuyang sitwasyon eh wala akong magagawa.

Ilang beses ko na ring sinabi, ilang beses ko na ring ginawa pero uulitin ko pa rin: I have to move on.

Fine. That was such a crappy opening.

I'm just desperate to post something on this blog that I thought of this drama story. There's no truth in the above scenes.

Well, I did have a crush on Kiel like I've had crushes with other bloggers. Technically, nobody among them rejected me because technically I did not court anyone. So technically, again, I am not moving on.

To be more precise, I am actually stuck when it comes to guys and romance.

So the past two weeks that I did not blog was not because of Kiel or other guys. The simple fact was that I just got too busy with too many things happening at the same time or, at least, one after another.

So what have I been up to lately since I last posted an entry? Definitely not courting Kiel. To rundown:

Helped in the Bethune House fundraising program. Watched ITALY (I swear I did! I couldn't say no to a free premiere night ticket). Tried hard to dance in the general assembly of LIKHA Migrants Cultural Organization. Celebrated the completion of my extra challenge by watching the first few episodes of Heroes (S3), Grey's Anatomy (S5), House MD (S5), Brothers and Sisters (S3), Knight Rider (S1), One Tree Hill (S6) and A Very Special Love. Saved Prison Break (S4) and some more movies for the lean months to come.

Called the government crazy with its mandatory psych test for OFWs. Called the government crazier with the minimum age requirement of 30 for domestic workers. Called the government craziest for its sellout of OFWs agenda in the coming GFMD. Called GMA words my mom would never teach me for plainly being evil.

Had some drinks with straight friends. Had even more drinks with gay friends. And oh yeah, went to Disneyland and had a fantastic gay day.

I could have blogged about any these. Maybe I could have even thrown in stuff on the financial crisis, US elections and the milk from China scandal.

But I did not for there was just too much going on around here.

I know I've been neglectful of this blog and blogging in general. I feel guilty for not following up on blogs I regularly read. I feel embarrassed that I've never taken any part yet in the snowballing all-pink-bloggers-unite initiative to establish the Rainbow Bloggers of the Philippines.

I feel impotent for not having the drive to even flirt.

The coming few weeks shall basically be the same if not even busier. But I will try to regain my blogging momentum, be more active in the RBP and start hitting on guys again. Even if …

Binasted ako ni Kiel.

Of habits, porn and the bitch on my bed

2008-09-18T15:52:00.008+08:00

By this time tomorrow, I would have completed the month-long extra challenge Kiks and I set. His challenge was this one and mine was: No watching of "looted" movies and/or TV series. No reading of ebooks or listening to audiobooks.

Compared to what Kiks set out for himself, mine is mundane. But with the first four episodes of Prison Break Season 4, the first episode of House MD Season 4, the men's diving and men's gymnastics finals of the Beijing Olympics, and a host of movies already on my hard disk and just a click away, to resist watching is almost painful.

Habits, by nature, are very hard to break. Especially when one is faced by various pressures from almost all sides, the temptation to slide into an old, convenient and comfortable habit becomes an extra, extra challenge.

I am not planning to have a movie marathon anytime soon. For now, it is enough for me to at least let down my guard and give in to the prospect of being a couch potato for two hours at most in any given day.

One month is not enough to make me say that I've broken the habit. But at least, it does tell me that I can.

I just wonder when I can be ready to say the same thing with smoking, drinking coffee, and getting cold feet in front of a really, REALLY cute guy.

***

To help a friend of a friend, I answered his survey.

If you also wish to do so, just go to this link: http://com.cityu.edu.hk/netporn/

If you have more time and want to help more, he also asked if you can post the link in your blog/s.

This is purely voluntary. No free porn as giveaways.

So if you can, lend a hand. Give to the "porn". (Kidding, it's a serious academic study.)

***

I slept with a bitch last night. Here she is.

Banci. Our vegetarian dog.

Before you get any nasty ideas about what we did, I just let her sleep on my bed last night. The fur was a bit distracting but at least she did not snore.

I did wake up with some scratches.

***

Yesterday, I decided to let it/him go for a while. Another habit I am trying to break.

Today, I am having withdrawal symptoms.

Senti with UP

2008-09-16T00:11:00.004+08:00

Two things recently reminded me of my UP days. The first made me think of my university while the second made me think of myself.

First was the UP Pep Squad bagging the championship for the cheerdance competition for this UAAP season. I think during my time (not so long ago, I swear), there wasn't even such a category in the UAAP. Or maybe there was but I never again attended any UAAP game after I completed the required units on Physical Education. So maybe it was just something I missed out.

Notwithstanding my indifference to the UAAP, I am still not exempted from sentimental school loyalty. Though I did not jump with joy on the news of the squad's victory, there was that spark of elation when I heard of it from my current and ex-Isko friends. Pride can really be contagious.

The second event was the 31^st anniversary of the League of Filipino Students (LFS). With Multiply contacts who are members and then also belonging to the e-group of former members, there was no escape from reading the activities conducted for the celebration and the photos that went along with them.

I always think back of my LFS days in UP with fondness.

When I stepped inside their tambayan to become a member, I never thought that I'd stay on. Except for the rally I joined in when I was in third year highschool back in the province, I was a greenhorn when it came to politics and activism. Still, I had my share of keeping abreast with current events and social issues and the LFS and its reputation piqued my interest.

From then on, I plunged into student activism.

I never missed out on the discussions ranging from issues of the day to the natdem principles. I went to rallies and had my share of squaring off with police and paid thugs. I joined the room-to-room campaigns and also had my sleepless nights during USC elections.

Then there were the times when we went to other sectors to know of their concerns and learn from them. We spent weekends with urban poor communities, peasant areas, and with workers in their picketlines. In strike areas such as the Nestle-Magnolia one in Cubao, I learned to sleep on sidewalks with my reliable malong but more importantly, I got insights on the capitalist-worker relationship.

Call me romantic, sentimental or idealist, but it was in my time as a student activist that I got to appreciate the Iskolar ng Bayan tag. One of the lines that struck me most during that time went something like this:

Ang paaralan ng isang tunay na mag-aaral ay ang lipunang kanyang ginagalawan. Ang kanyang guro ay ang mamamayan. At ang kanyang pagsusulit ay ang pagsasagawa ng mapagpalayang pagkilos.

The UAAP and a number of tatak-peyups events – Oblation Run, UP Fair, Lantern Parade, Maskipaps, Live A.I.D.S., - make me melancholic of my alma mater.

As for the years I spent with LFS, well it never really ended.

Still, with regrets

2008-09-11T12:02:00.004+08:00

My dad will die tomorrow.

If only I had this thought three years ago, I would have flown home in a heartbeat. Maybe not that fast but fast enough to at least be with him before he took his last breath.

I still remember that fateful day.

My father had been in a hospital for about a week. The night before, I spoke to my mom and asked her of his condition and she said that he still felt weak.

I woke up the next day gearing for a full-day meeting. Somehow, I felt a little bit down and I told myself it was just due to worrying about my dad. Even my colleagues thought so as well.

Later on, I began to feel cold. Cold enough to facilitate a session in the meeting fully-wrapped in a huge colored scarf.

I called my mom again and she informed that my dad's siblings were all there. I figured that there was not really anything weird with that for it had always been the case that whenever he called for his brothers and sisters, they always came to him.

The meeting ended at around 8:00 pm. I tried to reach my mom again but she did not answer my call. I went back to the office and logged on to my YM but no one among my own siblings was online.

The agonizing minutes, hours, passed. I was quiet or rather, too quiet even for my own taste. I thought that I should go home and rest but somehow, I remained in the office surfing the web, playing online games and just waiting for any news back home.

At 11:00 pm, the call came. It was my eldest brother in Dubai who informed me that my mom went out of the hospital to look for a priest.

This is it, I thought so.

I did not know what to feel. I just went numb. Though I managed to inform my friends what was happening, I could not bring myself to get emotional and all. I thought it ungrateful and unfair of me not to even shed a tear now that he is dying.

And then it happened. At 12:05 am, my Dad died.

I did not go to sleep anymore. I made calls after calls – to Philippines, Dubai and to Qatar where my two other siblings were – informing them what happened and planning how we were to go about with the funeral. Maybe I was compensating for my stubborn tears that refused to fall. Or for my disregard of the gut-feel that something bad was going to happen.

Or maybe just for the fact that I was not there. I was too late.

Of course I know that my experience of being absent when a loved one died was not unique. Countless more overseas Filipinos had suffered the same. But knowing so does not lessen the regret and sometimes even the guilt.

Eventually I did cry. At the third day of the wake, the dam just broke and I couldn't help myself but cling to my mom. She was the strongest of all of us. Maybe, caring for my dad in health and in sickness had somewhat prepared her for the inevitable.

I still miss my Dad. It will not really go away.

Even if I could have foreseen his death.

The Search for Ms. Charity – HK!

2008-09-04T00:22:00.002+08:00

Etchos lang ang title. Here is the real story:

They say charity starts at home but it can also go TO a home. Especially to those without one.

Bethune House Migrant Women's Refuge is a temporary shelter for domestic helpers in distress. It is a charitable institution that not only houses but provides a home for those who have no place to stay while they have ongoing cases in HK.

You see, migrants who have filed cases against their employers are not allowed to work for the duration of their case. Length of case resolution varies from three months for simple labor matters to years for the more complicated ones such as rape and physical abuse.

So the obvious question is: how can one survive while the justice system takes its time to decide?

Back in the 80's, the Mission for Migrant Workers (MFMW) has already noticed such a problem when they saw DHs with terminated contracts sleeping in parks or under footbridges and flyovers. Thus they created the Alternative Shelter Scheme – which, for a painfully obvious reason, took the acronym ASHES instead - wherein individual friends of the Mission take in and host homeless DHs for a particular period of time.

But it came to a point wherein those in need could not be accommodated by MFMW friends anymore. There were just too many of them compared to the number and capacity of those people willing to open their homes to strangers. Thus the Bethune House was born in 1986.

Currently, Bethune House has 50 residents though there are only 20 beds. As one of its volunteers said, you can't put them away when they knock on your gates lugging their striped bags and other belongings.

While its main service is giving food and a roof, Bethune House also does paralegal assistance to its residents. There are also volunteers who give seminars and trainings from basic Cantonese to cooking.

Though Bethune House is in HK, it doesn't mean that it is drowning in funds. Charity for the migrants is not that popular for the biggie foundations here. So Bethune House has to approach churches, women's organizations, migrant's groups and kind-hearted individuals for its sustained operations. It ain't a stroll in the park to raise about HK$12,000 for food alone in a month.

Thus, the above invitation to celebrate its anniversary together with an auction for charity. To be auctioned off are paintings like Kik's portrait that takes cubism as inspiration or my own face painted as abstract art. Kidding! Some Filipino HK-based artists have contributed their works for the auction while others are still being wooed to do so.

Ok, so this post is not really a story but an appeal for support to the shelter - attendance, donations, spreading this invitation, contributing an item for auction like your grandma's false teeth, or any other thing you can think of.

The real stories are in the shelter and its residents. Stories of travails, happiness and yes, even inspiration.

If you want to hear the stories, join the HK-wide Search for Ms. Charity on September 20. And yeah, it's tax-deductible and tax-free.

Once Upon a Time …

2008-09-02T23:10:00.002+08:00

I need to come up for air. I've been too ensconced in magical worlds for the past few days that if I don't stop now, I'm pretty sure that I'll be doing incantations soon, transport myself to Kelewan to be with the Tsuranis (their name sounds oh so gay) or at the very least be a priestess of the White.

Yep, I'm rereading some of Raymond Feists' collection from Magician: Apprentice to the Conclave of Shadows series. How cool can it be to be named Talon of the Silver Hawk? If I am to have a fantasy gay name I'll be …

****

It was a really sad story.

Len was a woman in her 30s and lived in a village south of Manila. The place was one of those lands developed for the lower to middle middle-class families or those who can somehow afford a couple of thousands monthly payment for their house and lot.

Anyway, Len lived with her husband and four sons. I forgot the actual job of her husband but I'm pretty sure it was something that gave them just enough for food on the table and public schooling for the kids.

Why do I think so? Because in times when I went home, I noticed that their house has remained unpainted, no steel gate has been erected, and one time, she had to borrow money from me through my mom. And yeah, I learned that her husband was planning to take a shot at overseas work.

The other week, Len died. She was pregnant with twin girls and from my mom's story; she died without even reaching the operating table….

*****

Even Morpheus spent his whole life looking for THE ONE.

And I want to lay my head down on you
Because you're the only solid thing in this room …

*****

Somehow in the next few days, I'm really going to finish a proper blog post.

There've been a lot of things going on around here lately and whenever I start blogging, something comes up and thoughts just fly away to neverland.

Still, thinking about it, I have the tendency to start something and then let it go because it gets too complicated, becomes scarier, or I just generally lose interest with it. Though such a tendency does not manifest all the time especially with the real important stuff, it still is disturbing.

My activist colleagues always say that not everything can be had with mere agitation. Once the excitement wears off, once the grand dreams built start to crumble … basically, once the unaccounted for factors are finally recognized, then the first-time high either comes crushing down or descends to a more rational level.

Ok, I think I'm drifting off again …

*****

… and I lived happily ever after.

Three-One

2008-08-28T01:51:00.003+08:00

I just wanna say I’m happy. No contextualization, no rationalization, no intellectual masturbation.

Today I start my 31st year. Just now, I have come to realize that it’s easier to do a make-believe eulogy post than a real birthday writeup. Anyway, I don’t really want to start this day writing long posts.

I just came from a bar with friends who met August 28 with me – Kiks, Steve, Dan, Rye, Enan, Ryan, Jethro, Liz, Val, Abby, Loven, Ricci and a host of other gay guys I don’t know and who don’t know me but I don’t really care. It was a gay bar anyway. So thanks guys!

It was my first time to greet my birthday in a bar. Honestly. The nearest that I came to having it was when my former colleagues back in 2001, I think, took me to a straight bar days after my birthday and got me so drunk that I was even able to take six shots of my birthday shooters. Also, this was my first time to have a birthday with gays other than Kiks.

I’m tempted to stand by my previous press release that I’m turning 29. I did that just so I can tell these 20-something gay guys na “papunta pa lang kayo, pabalik na ako".

But then, that won't be completely true. I've never believed in having things the way it used to be. There's only the prospect of turning 32, 33, 34 and so on until finally someone can read my eulogy and really cry.

So how is it to be 31? It feels the same when I turned 30. Just another year gayer maybe.

Fragments of an afternoon

2008-08-24T19:04:00.001+08:00

Hot.

Went inside a bookshop. Stopped at the entrance for a while and looked. A nod and a hint of smile. Hot.

Browsed through the racks of books. Not really wanting to buy anything. Took some off the shelf in random and read the jackets: James Patterson, Patricia Cornwell, David Baldacci and oh, a Harry Potter in paperback. Biography of god knows who, an autobiography of one the devil only cares.

Another look. A few seconds more and then …. A meeting to preside and a seminar to give.

Went back. Stopped at the entrance for a while and looked. Another nod, another smile. Hot.

Walked straight to the sci-fi/fantasy section. Robert Jordan, David Eddings, Peter Hamilton. Started to read Trudi Canavan’s Age of Five series. No money to buy. Glimpses from time to time. Hot.

Another look. A few seconds more. A nod. A smile.

Walked out.

Jack. Off.

Hot.

Lessons for the day:

Knowledge is power, visit your nearest bookstore
Dymocks Booksellers: Where it's easy to find, hard to find bookings!

In the larger scheme …

2008-08-18T07:37:00.004+08:00

In the larger scheme of things, 0.30 centavos out of 200 is no big deal. Such an amount can hardly be missed.

In the larger scheme of things, 150 from P10,000 is also not that much. Of course it is not an amount that one can just leave lying on the floor. It's already equivalent to one meal at Jollibee or a couple kilos of rice.

But still in the larger scheme of things, it hardly matters.

In the larger scheme of things, the 0.15% documentary stamp tax on remittances may not even be noticeable. Probably that was why it did not get attention until it was implemented.

In the larger scheme of things, remittance charges are also small. Here in Hong Kong, it ranges from HK$20 to HK$30. But in other countries like those in the Middle East, it gets higher as the remittance increases.

In the larger scheme of things, at least according to GMA, the EVAT is necessary for her so-called brand of progress. For an OFW who sends 10k, for example, for the basic needs of the family, that is P1,200 that goes EVAT.

Considering the economic conditions back home, it is safe to say that families of Filipinos abroad are probably the bulk of the population who still have purchasing capacity. Thus, the evident drive of businesses to expand to the OFW market.

In the larger scheme of things, if we believe La Gloria, it again does not matter for everyone shall benefit in the end.

In July last year, the first Global Forum on Migration and Development (GFMD) was convened in Belgium. Some of its most telling conclusions include:

That remittances to developing countries are one of the largest sources of external finance for developing countries, and can represent a large share of GDP for some of them. The World Bank estimates that recorded remittances to developing countries (i.e., excluding informal flows) reached $206 billion in 2006, almost two-thirds of foreign direct investment ($325 billion), and almost twice as large as official aid ($104 billion) received by these countries. Remittances are also considered to be more stable and evenly spread than other financial flows such as ODA or FDI, and are also considered to be countercyclical.
That remittances cannot be appropriated by governments, but their positive impact on development can be increased through options, incentives and tools designed and implemented by governments in partnership with other relevant actors.

This year the second GFMD will be in Manila. While it reeks of motherhood statements on “rights”, the DST, EVAT and remittance charges are serious indicators of what the GFMD is really gearing for. And with the Philippines as host, it means commodification of migrants and intensified labor export.

Not much different with other goods for trade. Only migrants can be traded again and again as long as we are good.

But then again, in the larger scheme of things...Oh, wait. There's probably nothing larger than this scheme.

What's with the hibernation

2008-08-15T14:51:00.003+08:00

I am trying to resolve this serious problem of mine:It’s one of my many weaknesses. I get easily distracted especially when I cannot find my way with something I’m working on. I make a turn, I get lost and then focus be damned.

It comes in the form of movies. I swore last Saturday to layoff flicks for a while and so far I’m succeeding. The likes of Eternal Summer, Testosterone (Antonio Sabato, Jr. playing gay?), Love of Siam, Bilog and Oro, Plata, Mata are comfortably stored on my hard disk unwatched.

It comes in the form of books. I recently acquired audio books of the Twilight series that many people have been raging about and other books like the Man Booker Prize Winner in 2002, Life of Pi. So far I haven’t started on either.

It comes in the form of computer games. Not the ones kids play for they all sound Greek to one as ancient as I am. I’m speaking more of Hearts, Free Cell, Literati and Bookworm.

It also comes in the form of blogging. (Evil laugh in the background). Thus the recent neglect of this blog or visiting most of the blogs I usually read.

So no, I am not sick. I am not gone. I am just trying to see how far I can go before I give in to temptations … er, distractions.

Since I'm posting this now and I watched Hellboy 2 this morning,I obviously lasted only a week. Pathetic.

(PS: I did not include men and friends. They are not distractions. They are life support systems.)

"At Work"

2008-08-08T10:42:00.009+08:00

At the risk of reinforcing the wrong impression on my sex life - given the 'smear' campaign by Gibo and Kiks - my ass is a little bit sore.

For the past couple of days, I’ve been sitting hours after hours in front of the PC stringing words that should sound professional, broad, and appealing for those who hold the purse. Honestly, I feel like I did a mediocre job of it. Anyway, I did my best and it should be freakin’ good enough at least for now.

In between bouts of inspiration for what I was writing and staring blankly at the screen, I had sex. Kidding! I watched movies after movies.

The line-up: Boy Culture, Phoenix, Coffee Date, Hancock and The Seeker. Oh, I also re-watched episodes of my four fave TV shows. This may give you an idea of how frequent the ‘in between work’ moments have been.

(To digress a wee bit, my weird work ethics include working while dialogues of something I’ve watched before play in the background.)

Anyway, it was a good thing that my movie marathon ranged from entertaining to quite good ones that raise questions we usually ask and topics that we usually talk about. The former describes the sci-fi/fantasy flicks while the latter are on the gay-themed ones.

Boy Culture asks about: A. sex, B. love, C. relationship – the three favorite themes for many of us. All the permutations of the drama and fun of gay romance come from mixing one with the other/s. A plus or minus B plus or minus C can equal one-night stands, fuck buddies, open relationships, platonic relationships, platonic and lustful relationships, virtual, long-distance, etc.

We add and subtract as we play the field hoping to finally get that explosive equation. Sometimes we do.

Phoenix, meanwhile, deals with betrayal and how broken one can be if he experiences that breakdown of trust. The film has some dragging moments wherein you feel like you’re just waiting for the two betrayed guys to just jump into bed and devour each other. (Which they did eventually.)

Finally it just says that one can deal with a relationship betrayal in two ways: either be burned by it and get miserable or look at it as a time to learn and realize that he’s not worth it and someone better will come along.

Coffee Date is a bit different. We are used to topics of gays asserting to live as one. But this film put a twist: what happens when a straight guy finds himself defending his sexuality tooth and nails. Interestingly, the very same stereotypes about gays are the same stereotypes this straight guy has to face to prove he’s a hetero.

While it is funny, it also shows how the macho culture impacts males – gay or straight. A little off-tangent is the homophobic brother turning out to be gay and transforming overnight from this macho I’ll-barf-if-you-say-gay into an in-your-face homo who wears a tight pink shirt, speaks in high-pitched voice, and sees every guy who looks at him as a potential trick. It just doesn’t work that way.

Anyway, for this week so far, the activist in me is a tad disturbed and distracted while the gay in me is quite contended.

God, if only I can string these two into a cohesive proposal that can make money, the sore ass will be much more worth it!

Fantastic Four

2008-08-04T12:37:00.004+08:00

Hindi ito movie review. Tag lang ni myk2ts.

Instructions:
What you are supposed to do...and please don't spoil the fun...
Click copy/paste, type in your answers and tag four people in your lists!
Don't forget to change my answers to the questions with that of your own

OoOoO

(A) Four places I go over and over: bahay, opis, bahay, opis
(B) Four people who e-mail me regularly: ate, director ng opis, pinsang makulit, opismeyts
(C) Four of my favorite places to eat? kolorum na nepali resto, satay king, jollibee, bahay
(D) Four places you'd rather be? pinas, RP, perlas ng silangan, las islas Filipinas
(E) Four people I think will respond: Kiks, Lyka, Gibo, Red (Pag hindi kayo sumagot, maglimutan na tayo.)
(F) Four TV shows I could watch over and over: Grey's Anatomy, Brothers and Sisters, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Heroes

Hoy Kiks, Lyka, Gibo and Red .. sumagot kayo! Apat dapat, dapat apat. chos!

Mummify The Mummy!

2008-08-02T10:12:00.002+08:00

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor was one hell of a killer movie. It could literally bore you to death.

The plot was thin and the acting was mediocre. There were lots of one-liners that were delivered as if just really reading from a script and came out more as disjointed dialogues. While the effects were pretty decent, the sheer mediocrity of it all didn't really make me riveted to what was unfolding before the big screen.

The story was simple ... and is not worth retelling. Whoever said that simplicity is beauty haven't really seen this film.

Though Brendan Fraser was still an eye-candy, my friends and I watched the film because of Jet Li. We are big fans of kung-fu and we were expecting fight scenes reminiscent of his Wong Fei-Hung stunts. Add Michelle Yeoh to the mix and it doubled our excitement.

But darn it, their presence did not lift the film even an inch from the quagmire it was in.

Aside from the fight with assassins stupid enough to try and kill him without stealth and the sword fight between Li and Yeoh, there was not much martial arts done.

Jet Li's magical mastery of elements could have been interesting to see in a fantastic showcase of elemental powers like in the cartoons Avatar: The Last Airbender. But after a few fire and ice, I didn't also get to see much of it.

All in all, we've had better mornings. I could not stop thinking that the past hours could have been spent in more fruitful work such as oversleeping.

I may have to watch The Warlords again just to redeem Jet Li's reputation before my eyes.

At the end of it, The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor should have applied to itself its basic theme: better leave something horrible buried for thousands of years - undisturbed, untouched, unwatched.

Karerista

2008-07-29T21:10:00.001+08:00

Marami akong kinarir nang nakaraang linggo.

Nangarir ako ng pagiging tibak.

Buong linggo halos na hindi namin tinantanan ang isyu ng pag-suspinde ng levy. Eh kasi naman, kabuhayan ng mga DHs ang nakataya dahil kung hindi kasama ang ongoing contracts sa suspension, tiyak na magiging sunod-sunod ang termination dahil gugustuhin ng employer na ma-exempt na sa pagbabayad ngayon pa lang.

August 1 ang proposal na magsimula ang suspension. Para na kaming maiihi kung ano ang magiging pinal na desisyon.

At syempre, kasabay pa ito ng SONA na kabit sa bituka ng mga Pinoy sa labas ng bansa. Ayoko nang magpahaba sa kung ano ang tingin ko sa SONA. Marami na akong nai-post tungkol kay Gloria.

Kaya noong Linggo, dalawang magkasunod na rally ang naganap. Sa gitna ng kainitan ng araw eh nag-martsa kami papuntang konsulado at nag-programa ng maigsi. Tapos, bumalik para hintayin ang mga migrante ng iba pang lahi para naman pumunta sa Central Government Office ng Hong Kong.

Nangarir din ako ng pelikula.

Pinanood ko ang The Dark Knight pero saka na ang review. Basta nag-enjoy ako sa kanya. Ayoko munang pag-isipan kung bakit.

Sa gitna ng muni-muni sa mga kailangang sulatin eh kinarir ko rin ang mga pelikula ni John Lloyd at Bea. Mga mushy pero disente naman. Pinatos ko rin pala ang My Best Friend’s Girlfriend ni Richard at Marian. Marami pa akong kinulimbat na pelikulang Pilipino kasama na ang Dear Heart at PS I Love You ni Sharon at Gabby pero hindi ko pa pinapanood.

Halos puro love story pala ang pinanood ko. Pelikula lang talaga ang love life ko.

In between, may iba pa akong mga kinarir.

Nangarir ako ng librong nabasa ko na. Kinarir ko rin ang aming aso na si Banci. Pinatulog ko sya sa kama ko pero, I swear, wala kaming ginawang masama. Kinarir ko rin ang pag-setup at pag-operationalize ng bagong computer dahil sumusuko na ang 3-year old laptop ko. Kinarir ko ang pagle-layout. Kinarir ko rin ang gym.

Kinarir ko rin pala ang pagtawag sa nanay ko. Miss ko na sya.

Kaya Gibo, hindi pa ako magsasara ng blog.

Naging busy lang sa aking karir.

PS. Tingin ko ay walang sense ang sinulat kong ito. Pero ang alam ko, may sense naman para sa akin ang mga kinarir ko kahit paano.

Bending over

2008-07-21T21:30:00.001+08:00

To live life without compromise.

Beneath the comedy and punchlines of Legally Blonde the Musical and The Curiosity of Chance is the question of how far one should compromise ones self to be accepted in a particular social setup.

Everyone who has a gay bone in his body knows the story of Elle Woods. So there is no need to repeat how Elle was dumped by Warner, how she went to Harvard law School to get him back, how she met Emmet, how she tried to remake herself to be the typical law student, and how she came back – all pink, all blonde, all smiles – with a vengeance ... Ooops.

The musical version did not depart from the story line. Only gayer.

Meanwhile, The Curiosity of Chance, tells about the story of Chance Marquis and how he asserted who he really is among schoolmates, colleagues and his family. He was trashed, bullied, and even made to feel unaccepted by his own dad.

Still in the end he made his mark.

Elle Woods and Chance Marquis showed how a sore thumb could turn into a beacon.

As the theme of the two as I perceive it hits me, I have to remind myself that it’s a musical and a movie. Anything is possible. Even to be THAT blonde or THAT flamboyant.

To live a life with no compromise is good on a shirt. But we are basically social beings and bound by our social relations and societal norms. Thus we often find ourselves either conforming or conceeding. How many times have we found ourselves in a compromising position? Not THAT kind of compromising position.

But what Elle and Chance did also show is that compromises have limits. It is not worth it to compromise what defines ones self for the sake of acceptance or sometimes even love. Neither will be lasting. Neither will be true.

I myself have made numerous compromises. There are even ocassions when I do conform if the situation calls for it.

Still, there are matters that I , for the life of me, cannot presently imagine compromising. The politics I uphold, the choices I have made and views on a number of social practices. There were times I did waver and put all of these into question. To continue to hold on to them is a lifetime question.

However, if he is the one who will talk me into something I am not really willing to do, I am not sure how far I can take it until I bend over.

Then I may not be able to sing: “See, dreams really do come true, you never have to compromise. Omigod!”

Kumusta naman Je?

2008-07-18T14:04:00.002+08:00

Nearly everyone who have been there mark it as memorable.

It's that time of our life when we start spending more time away than at home, when going out means hanging out with barkadas doing nothing but talk, when hormones start to rage and you start noticing the opposite - and the same - sex.

Of course what I'm talking about is: High School! Those sweet, fun, dramatic, rowdy and sentimental four years.

This is us when we were in our first year that I found in the photo section of our yahoogroup. You can laugh. I did.

It's been years since I last saw most of these guys and gals. I saw some of them on a wedding and a funeral - the former my brother's, the latter my father's.

Most of us were together for the whole high school years as part of the Laboratory School of the Pablo Borbon Memorial Institute of Technology for there were only around 80 of us divided into two sections. PBMIT is now Batangas State University but it shall always be PBMIT for me.

I have lost the detailed memories of my HS life. I do remember the Saturdays that we still go to school just so we can see each other, go to church on Sundays but actually just stay outside and talk at the same time as the priest, do academic stuff together, do extra-curricular activities, and, unobserved, do extra extra-curricular activities.

Soon, I'll get to relive these memories again. Some of my HS buddies are cooking up a reunion of sorts in the next few months.

It'll be interesting to see how we have fared for the past 14 years. I know that many of them are now married and have kids. About 25% of our class are abroad. And more than true to the tradition of one in 10 is gay, I think that four of us out of 20 guys are homos. Ok, it's just my speculation.

I'm excited to meet them all again. I wonder if I should be all out and proud on the reunion?

For sure, they don't have any HS memory of that sort about me.

******

(Another picture of us I found in the e-group's baul... hahaha)

V is for

2008-07-16T13:42:00.003+08:00

Victory.

Not yet full but still a success. Just a while ago, the Hong Kong government has announced the suspension of the HK$9,600 levy it collects from employers of foreign domestic workers. After two years, the decision shall again be reviewed.

Though it is not the same as abolition, the two-year suspension is still a cause for celebration.

In broad strokes, the levy was implemented in 2003 by the HK government supposedly to finance efforts to retrain local workers for domestic work to face the unemployment issue of HK that time.

The levy was introduced at the same time as the monthly salary of foreign maids was cut by HK$400. It doesn't take a mathematician to see that the total amount cut from the wage of FDWs for a two-year contract is exactly the same amount as the levy. Thus, it has always been the position of FDW groups that the levy is an indirect taxation to them.

For years, FDW groups have campaigned for its abolition. Rightly so for their experience has also shown that as long as the levy is in place, their wage is also held hostage. Despite HK's economic boom, FDWs have only received mere pittance for a wage hike.

Early last week, the monthly wage of FDWs was increased by HK$100. At first glance, it may look like another victory. But if one can see that it is actually only HK$4 per day or 25 cents per hour, one shall be bound to agree with FDWs who say that it is too little.

Besides, the cumulative wage hikes for the past four years are not even enough to recover the amount slashed in 2003 and 1999. FDW wage now stands at HK$3580 per month. Nine years ago, it was HK$3860.

Developments like these are what reaffirm my belief in the movement and the people's militant collective action. They are not merely slogans nor dreams nor merely a 13-year old agitation borne by the idealism and impetuousness of the youth.

They may be small in the larger scheme of things - given the whole gamut of other issues that migrant workers have to confront - but considering the situation, any victory, however small, is a step forward.

V may take long in coming. When it comes, it fuels the people for more.

UPDATE:

Darn it. It seems like this government is still dilly-dallying as to the details of the suspension.

While it appears that the suspension is in the offing (by September), it is still isn't clear when in September, what to do about the unused HK$4.4 BILLION fund collected, and whether it will only apply to new contracts and to existing ones.

When it comes to cutting the wage, the HK government has a one-track mind. When it comes to giving relief to migrants ... mas makunat pa sa dilang makunat.

From Jollibee to ...

2008-07-13T20:07:00.000+08:00

Pigged out at Jollibee; harassed an innocent-looking crew; took postcard-perfect pictures; walked at Central's footbridges like tourists; smoked like there was no tomorrow; talked about tuition fee increase, rice crisis, call centers, and men; passed around a cup of coffee from McCafe; wondered about the past, present and future; practiced the famed "peripheral vision"; thought how choi sam can be worn; slept; worked; ate caldereta; drank the winningest coffee; read the Virgo part of Gay Astrology; ... "at bakit ka may hickey?"

But that is another story.

Banci (ban-chi)

2008-07-09T09:43:00.001+08:00

Sya si Banci. Ang aming collective aso.

Ilang buwan pa lang sya nang ibigay sa amin ng isang Intsik na may mareklamong kapitbahay. Hindi ko alam ang breed nya pero who cares. Obviously she doesn’t.

Malambing sya. Nang minsang mawala kami ng lampas isang linggo sa bahay at naiwan sya sa ibang kamay, sumabog ihi nya pagkakita nya sa amin.

Hindi sya mahilig sa kanin. Yan ang kaibahan ko sa kanya. Matakaw sya sa dog food. Yan ang kaibahan nya sa akin.

Nang ibinigay sya sa amin, maraming habilin ang huling may-ari sa kanya:

Huwag pakainin ng buto ng manok. Busugin sa gulay at prutas.
Paliguan minsan isang linggo at putulan ng kuko minsan isang buwan.
Bigyan ng gamot para sa puso at para sa tapeworm. Wag kalimutang dalhin sa beterinaryo.
Gamitan ng dog shampoo at dog powder.
Gupitan ng buhok laluna kapag summer.
May kasama syang kulungan pero wag nyo syang ikukulong.

Parang last will and testament.

Ibinigay din nya sa amin ang bag na ito:

Ito ang gamit namin para maisakay sya sa bus, MTR at taxi. Dinadala namin sya sa beach, sa office at sa rally. Ang bakla-bakla ko pag bitbit ko sya dito.

Maraming batas dito patungkol sa mga alaga. Kailangan mo pa ngang palagyan ng chip na nakalagay ang detalye nya at kung sino ang may-ari. Andami ding mga grupo ng lokal na pangunahin eh animal welfare ang programa.

Pansin ng isa kong kaibigan na ex-Hong Kong, mas pinahahalagahan daw ang aso dito kesa sa tao. Naalala ko tuloy yung isang kliyente na syang unang nagpaiyak sa akin. Yung kumakain kasama ng aso. Pag tumae ang aso, kailangan nya munang linisin bago sya bumalik sa pagkain.

Meron din akong nakitang aso na nakasuot ng winter clothes na galing Burberry at worth HK$2,000 daw ang isa.

May punto nga siguro ang kaibigan ko.

*****

Kanina eh sumama ako sa rally dahil pagbobotohan sa Legislative Council ang proposed Race Discrimination Bill. Sobrang walang-kwenta ang proposal na kahit sa papel pa lang eh wala ka ng makikitang tunay na proteksyon laluna sa mga DH na syang pinakarami kung usapin ng ibang lahi sa HK.

May punto nga siguro ang kaibigan ko.

Still for M

2008-07-08T13:42:00.002+08:00

We've been informed that M was again taken to the hospital recently. If you wish to give help, please see Kik's blog for details.

The Last R

2008-07-06T17:29:00.003+08:00

When it comes to men and romance, I am no expert. In fact, I am such a greenhorn that my romance for 20+ years was with my work, my loot and my books.

I am usually boisterous and sometimes even loud. But when a guy I really like is around, I tend to be shy and unsure. I am a classic ligaw-tingin, palipad-hangin. Until someone else gets the guy.

For the past 12 months though, I dared to break the pattern. Not only once but thrice.

Exactly a year ago, I met B at a wrong place and definitely at a wrong time. Still we attempted to build something. For the next three months, I was contented to chat, text and talk to him over the phone.

I met him again when I went back to the Philippines for some work in October. At the end of my 10-day stay, we found ourselves ending it. It started when I failed to show up in a show he invited me to watch with him. But work had to come first and it went downhill from there.

Though I tried to reestablish communication, he refused to answer. So I moved on.

In February, another one came along. But it was so short-lived – in fact it didn’t even really take off – that I think two sentences are enough to end this story.

Then April came with A. It was something unexpected. It was unreal yet it did not feel to be so. It was with so little hope but I didn’t care. It was just there, it happened.

For a couple of months, everything was great. I was happy and again contented. Happy with the way things were going and contented to wait. Still, it ended.

I don’t want to say I failed. I don’t believe there’s such a thing as failure in romance. Only experiences gained and lessons learned. Because at the end of it, I still get to smile at what had been. Albeit, with a twinge of regret sometimes.

But now I am closed for repair.

I am not broken. Rather, I am chipped and scratched.

Yeah, I do still ogle guys – both in the virtual and real world. I said I’ll be closed, not blind. But right now, I shall take a rest from the serious stuff. Things have gotten way out of hand that I almost lost my grasp of what my objective condition is and its limitations are.

I am retreating to the comforts of my old flames. There’s work to be done now. There are tons more waiting to be planned out and executed.

There are stacks of films that I have to watch. Books to finish reading, books to start reading, books to reread and books to watch out for.

It’s a tactical retreat until I regain my balance.

How long the repair will take, I am not sure. Good thing hearts have a lifetime warranty.

Power struggle

2008-07-04T22:46:00.003+08:00

Disasters after disasters have struck different parts of the world in recent years. In the face of these forces of nature, we tend to see how small we are as compared to the titans of the earth that are the elements.

In the BBC series, Earth: the Power of the Planet, that I saw recently, it showed the different environmental factors that have created the world and continuously shape it.

The series is composed of five parts: Volcano, Atmosphere, Ice, Ocean and Rare Earth. Through vivid images, computer simulations and scientific evidences, the series showed how the first four elements work together and at the same time fight each other to give birth to the Earth and later on maintain its stability for life forms to start and then flourish. Until humans came along.

On the last part of the series, it explained the uniqueness of the Earth and postulated that it is probably the only one of its kind given the “lucky” phenomena that led to its formation and its position in the solar system.

This is no Popular Science so I won’t repeat what Dr. Iain Stewart has explained. But what he said is probably true, the Earth has met its greatest challenge with the arrival of humans.

While the Earth has its natural processes to heal itself and restore balance, humans tend to, well, fuck them up.

Enviromental activism has never been my strong point so I will leave it to those who know more to show how the earth and its environment is being destroyed by human activities, and in particular for the past centuries, the relentless drive for capital accumulation. What the series has in terms of giving information into the earth’s working, I think it has fallen short in accounting for the social relationships – the class contradictions – that exist among humans and make life miserable for Mother Earth.

But if a certain friend of mine hears me complain about this, he’ll just say that we cannot expect anything less from the mainstream media which is itself driven by capital. Fine.

The show ultimately concluded that humans will be eventually wiped out

But I believe in the resilience of humans. If only the basic contradictions can be resolved that shall, in theoretical possibility, free humans to reach their potential and even resolve its standing struggle with nature, then “I Will Survive” shall not be an athem for gays alone.

I am a reader of sci-fi novels and the usual setting is an inter-planetary or inter-galactic one. With no known limit yet of human capacity to adapt, the sci-fi can probably be facts in the distant future.

Non-humans may exist in the far reaches of the universe. Other planets may be discovered that can approximate the characteristics of the earth.

But for now, we only have this one to live in. Millions or billions of years from now it may not be habitable anymore either due to the earth’s core dying down or the sun running out of fuel to burn.

But humans will survive. If only we can find a way to not, well, really fuck things up.

R & R & R

2008-07-02T03:31:00.005+08:00

A friend of mine recently pointed out that my recent posts were a bit morose. For sure it was not intentional but they were what struck my mind on the events of the past few days.

Pardon me if I gave the impression of being depressed. I was not. Tired, yes. Off the weather maybe. But generally still me.

Yesterday was a new day and boy was it good. It started with a rally and ended up so gay.

July 1st - the anniversary of the territory's hand over to mother China - is traditionally the time for HK activists to go out on the streets. Notwithstanding the tradition part, the issues presented to the HK government were concrete and urgent.

For the foreign domestic workers, it was the time to ask the HKSAR government: "where's our wage increase?"

Halfway through the year, there is still no clear indication that a even a little wage hike is in the offing. While businesses have already benefited from the showers of incentives from the HK$100 billion budget surplus, FDWs are still waiting for the economic rebound to ... err, rebound to them.

The searing heat did not stop the people from calling for a genuine racial discrimination bill, a legislated minimum wage for all HK workers, as well as a break from cuts on social services. Though the weather did not help at all, a dose of direct action is always an uplifting experience.

From the rally, I took a bit of rest. Just surfed around and took a chance to chat with someone who did not want to chat with me. But that's another topic altogether.

Anyway, I then had a great night with my gay friends. Alright, also with the straight guys. Fine, also with the women who were there.

It was the birthday party of a friends' mom (who, by the way, can be the PFLAG prexy in the RP if ever there shall be one) and little bro. The place was great, the food was greater, and the company was the best.

I missed these bunch.

They all have their eccentricities but it's always a riot when they come together. Maybe it's a thing with us gays.We usually accept people as they are, warts and all. Unless you are a bigot and, at least in my case, GMA and her ilk.

After a couple of rounds of vodka and any chaser at hand, talks just flow from the mundane to the ... well, less mundane. Peace beckies! It was fun, relaxing and very very gay!

I started off this month somewhat reinvigorated. Rally, rest and recreation.

There's another R that I can write about: Romance. But it sucks. And if I do write about it as of this time, the tone of the post will be much different. Morose may not even be enough.

Mother, daughter, strangers

2008-06-28T19:51:00.003+08:00

In just about five minutes and a 50-meter walk, I was again struck by how sad life can be for a migrant worker.

I walked home from our office with T and I asked her why she and her daughter didn't go to the movies. A couple of hours ago, V even invited us to tag along but due to some work I had to finish, I had to beg off.

Off-handedly T said that the movie starts at midnight and she decided to go back to the office instead. When I asked where V was, she said that she went straight home.

I jokingly said, "lagot ka, tampo na anak mo." Apparently, it hit a nerve.

You see, T has been a migrant worker for almost 13 years. She left the Philippines when V was only about eight. They only get to see each other every time T comes home for two weeks or she sends for her daughter here for vacation.

My friend admitted that she just doesn't know how to be with her daughter - with only the two of them - anymore.

She loves her daughter, that I am sure of. V also loves her mother, that I am also sure of.

But as with any other relationship separated by distance, it is bound to change through time and sometimes for the worse.

Some will say that the level of technology right now is so advanced that communication is just a phone call or a YM away. While it is true enough that migrant workers of the 70's or 80's had it harder with only snail mail and voice tapes to get by, nothing still beats being together to maintain that harmony in a dynamic relationship where people develop and change.

Still others will say that it is not the amount of time spent together that is important but rather its quality. True as well but quantity and quality have a dialectical relationship that to say one is more important does not diminish the importance of the other. They are two sides of a coin that are held in a precarious balance.

Still others may assert that if they love each other, nothing should have changed. On this point, I rest my case and just read Mills and Boons.

Now T has got to know her daughter all over again. Soon V will be going back to the Philippines.

It only took five minutes for T and I to cover the 50-meter distance from our office to our flat where her daughter was.

But the time of separation and the distance between that migration has forced on them is much longer and considerably wider.

Oh it's so just sad when a mother and daughter become strangers.

The People’s Artists

2008-06-27T00:17:00.007+08:00

As a person who has minuscule artistic skills, I have much admiration and respect for artists. Most especially, for those who are usually called as the people’s artists.

They are the artists-activists of various disciplines who use their creativity to advance a social concern. They are those who hone their skills to deliver radical messages, challenge existing cultural norms, promote liberating ideas, and mobilize the people in a movement for change.

As what anyone among them will say, it’s not an easy thing to do.

Arts in the Philippines do not get that much support, thus the concept of the starving, struggling artists. But I guess the concept comes so alive among the artists-activists who willingly give their time and skills with no concern for financial gains just so the people’s struggle will advance.

In the conference we organized, I met a few of these kind of artists from different parts of the world.

There was the tandem of Marie Boti and Malcolm Guy from Multi-Monde Productions in Canada who have made a host of films tackling migration. Their documentaries such as Modern Heroes, Modern Slaves and When Strangers Reunite are such powerful tools of education and information that whenever we show them to OFWs here, they just can’t help it but be indignant over their plight.

They also organized two nights of film showing where I got to meet another filmmaker who documented a fact finding mission on the displacement of people due to militarization in Chattisgarh in India. Searching through his work on the net, I found this

Then there were also the cultural activists from the Philippines. They came from different groups that create songs of struggles, mount social-realist plays and other activist productions. They were such a creative bunch and I also enjoyed the nights when we just gathered in a group and sang the songs that we grew up with in the movement.

Having two left feet, a voice that can only find melody in a group, and hands that did not go beyond drawing Pokwang na nagka-kandirit, I respect and admire artists.

As an activist who have come to learn the importance of such work in the movement for change, I salute the artists who get their inspiration from the people and return it to the people through their arts. Truly, they are people’s artists.

* * * * *

I wrote this after hearing how seriously-ill a cultural activist I know of is right now. I’ve seen him perform while I was still a starving and struggling student activist but I didn’t get to talk to him in person until he came here in 2005 to be a part of the anti-WTO protests.

His group has made an appeal for financial support on his behalf.

He is an artist. He is gay. He is a comrade.

I sincerely hope he pulls through. For an artist like him is one of a kind.

Belated Thanks

2008-06-24T19:14:00.002+08:00

I know this is kinda late but I still wanna thank fellow bloggers for this

as well as the two brilliant and oh-so-gay minds of The Dan and Rye Show for making this their blog of the month.

This blog is first and foremost a political one. It cannot be otherwise because it is how I live my everyday life.

There’s politics in being a migrant worker. There’s politics in movies, books and travels. There’s politics in being gay. There’s politics in love and friendship. There’s politics in blogging as well.

In most of my posts, the politics I hold are expressed. In some, they are just implied.

Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo always says that we should stop making things political. But to declare so is in itself already political. Such a statement is as hypocritical as her “sorry”, promises and smiles.

To be political and to get recognised by bloggers who are not in the movement I’m active with is way cool. I’ve only got two readers who are activists as well and I bet they only read this because I read theirs. Kidding! (I hope)

So I thank Empress Maruja and TDRS. Kudos of course to those who visit and read.

When I started this six months ago, I never thought I’d get hooked to blogging. Thinking back, it was the same when I drank my first cup of coffee and puffed my first yosi.

This may very well be another addiction that I’ll be keeping. Well at least until another one comes along or my two other addictions kill me.

What happened in 10 days

2008-06-21T19:05:00.002+08:00

I am not yet back to normal.

This is just me trying not to think that I do need more than four hours of sleep. Once this week, I was up for 46 hours straight, fell asleep as soon as my head hit the sofa’s headrest, then snored like there was no tomorrow.

This is just me trying not to feel the physical fatigue due to lifting of luggages after luggages, boxes after boxes and bags after bags of conference knick-knacks. We practically transferred the whole office operation to a camp in the middle of nowhere.

This is just me trying not to dwell on the tragedy that befell my phone. Whoever has it now hopefully is happy and has enough sense to listen to the music I had in its player.

This is just me trying to say sorry to you. My mind was full of things to do everyday, problems to troubleshoot, people to talk to and materials to prepare. My mom, worried about why I didn’t go online or called her, even asked my brother to ask my whereabouts.

This is just me trying to remind myself that I’ll somehow see them again: my “nanay” whom I have only seen twice for the past 10 years, my other “nanay” who’s the classic mamench (as what we call the babaeng bakla) and the veterans who’ve been there since I became an activist.

This is just me trying to shake off the longing to go back to the Philippines and continue what I’m doing. I understand why I am here. I accept the reality of what should be. But it doesn’t stop me from still thinking of going home.

This is just me trying to again get used to the feeling of loss as old and new friends and comrades start to go back to their own countries to continue the work we are all passionate with. I’m holding on to the words a non-Filipino friend I met in another conference said years before: “there is no goodbye in solidarity, only see you again.”

This is just me trying not yet to digest the tons of new information that come out when one gathers hundreds of grassroots and grassroots-based organizations in one place to discuss and debate. Time will come that I’ll review what the situation of migration in the world is, or how globalization impacts the African people, or how the Latinos do in the US.

This is just me trying to not yet project the post-conference matters I have to settle. They have to be faced but maybe next week.

This is just me thinking that it has been 10 days of tiring but fulfilling work. The hard work paid off not only in the appreciation of the delegates for the hosting done but more importantly, in the fact that the objectives have been met ten-fold.

This is just me saying that I shall be blogging about the people I met, the things I learned and the experiences I had. Somehow I will for what just happened the past days are worth writing about and sharing with others.

I am not yet back to normal. But then again, as reaffirmed by the conferences we organized, the world is not normal and the life I have chosen can never be defined as such.

Fan of Fantasy

2008-06-08T19:36:00.003+08:00

I told the Princess of Penang that I’ll write a rejoinder to his Sex (but not) in this City post. But it has to take a back seat as I just watched The Spiderwick Chronicles and it brought back to life my fantasy craze.

The movie for sure is for kids. It’s a fantasy film on the same breath as The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe of the The Chronicles of Narnia and the series Harry Potter and the so-on-and-so-forth: there’s the evil fantastical creature out to conquer the world, there’s a bunch of kids who are so responsible for their age that they’ve taken up the cudgels of saving everyone, then the good overcomes the bad in the end.

Of course, this is a bit simplistic way of telling the story. Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy watching the film. But then again, I’ve been a fantasy buff for the past few years and it takes very little imagination of flying beings and magical characters to get my attention.

Then there’s also Freddie Highmore of the August Rush fame and the voice of Pantalaimon in The Golden Compass. He’s not an object of my fantasy (that’ll be gross and a big crime) but I’m willing to wait for the kid to grow up. I liked how he played the two characters of the identical twins but so poles apart in character Jarrod and Simon Grace.

While I do enjoy watching these kind of fantasy flicks, I await the time when fantasy epics will get to the big screen. Much like what they did to the Lord of the Rings.

If I am to be asked what my fantasy films are, I will definitely say The Wheel of Time and The Riftwar Saga. If they can pitch in The Riftwar Legacy, the Legends of the Riftwar and David Eddings' The Belgariad, much better.

TWOT was what hooked me to fantasy books. Penned by Robert Jordan, who unfortunately died before he can finish the last of the 12-book series, TWOT created a whole new fantasy world that millions have followed. Others said that TWOT actually takes up from the tradition of the LOTR. Who cares? My Philo professors used to say that nothing in philosphy is original anymore after the Greeks.

While also placing magic as a major part of his novels, Raymond Feist’s Riftwar Saga meanwhile interestingly put non-magical people at the forefront of the stories. Maybe it had something to do with what Pug aka Milamber said: in the end, there is no magic.

My fantasy character to play Pug is James McAvoy and for Thomas the Valheru, Brad Pitt of course! Give me a break, it is my fantasy.

To the Penang Princess, sorry for not doing a post about yours. But just let me say to him that at the rate things are going here, Sex IN THIS City is also just a fantasy for me.

Most probably, I won’t be able to make a post for the next two weeks due to this and this.

While I do plunge into fantasy worlds, these are the kind of events that keep me rooted in the world’s realities. There’s also the added perk of seeing old friends and comrades.

If ever I don’t find myself blogging, I’ll see you guys after a fortnight!

Something old, something new

2008-06-04T20:31:00.002+08:00

My hard disk and Creative Zen are stacked with movies like The Kite Runner, Across the Universe, No Country for Old Men, The Great Debaters and old pinoy must-sees such as Tinimbang ka Ngunit Kulang and Batch 81. Yet, I haven’t seem to find the urge to really watch them.

Instead, for the past few days or weeks even, I was contended to re-watch films and TV series episodes that I’ve seen many times over. It’s one of my sometimes irritating eccentricities but that’s me.

Listening to the same dialogues I’ve heard before and even memorized, looking at the same scenes I’ve already seen, and knowing exactly what will happen next is kinda comforting.

Maybe that’s it. There’s something comforting about old stuff. It’s familiar, it’s easy and it’s already there. But yes, there are times when we really have to embrace the new.

This was what Shelter – a movie I accidentally watched – was all about for me.

The plot of the film was simple: Zach is a poor boy living with his sister and his nephew. He loves them so much and takes his responsibility to them seriously that he’s torn between staying with them and following his dream of becoming an artist. For a time, he has chosen the former.

Until Shaun came along and made the situation more complicated.

Shelter is said to be a gay film. Indeed, it has gay characters, it has a gay coming out subplot, it has a sweet and hot love scene and it does show half-naked bods (surfers!). But it goes beyond gay themes.

The word “shelter” gives an image of a safe haven. But it is bound to happen that we have to go out and face the unfamiliar, the uncomfortable and the difficult. For the familiar, comfortable and easy are not what life is really all about.

When Zach finally chose to pursue art school and at the same time embraced his homosexuality, it was liberating. And sweet.

The prospect is scary but the rewards may be great. The tricky part though is that it is not a breeze to do it. Always, it is not a case where we can just pack our bags, leave most things behind and start afresh.

The even trickier part is to embrace what’s new without totally letting the old one go. When we embark on the new, we also take what we can of the old for it is not always bad the same thing as the new is not always good.

I may like to watch the same films, see the same episodes, read the same books, and live the same life day in and day out. But there’s always something new that comes along that is pleasant, worthwhile and, yes, liberating when I grab it by the balls.

Oh yeah, the film’s soundtrack is also cool. It’s something new that I fully intend to look for, get and put together with the old stuff I have.

Tuition Blues

2008-05-30T20:59:00.001+08:00

Like clockwork for young people, June comes with opening of classes. For migrant workers, it comes with opening of purses.

Many migrant workers are scholarship foundations. At the rate tuition and other school fee increases are going though, the foundations always find themselves cash-strapped.

When I was a student not so long ago, tuition didn’t bother me that much. I went to public schools for primary and secondary education.

College though was different. Despite it supposedly being a University of the People, P300 per unit was still a lot for a son of jobless parents and a brother of siblings who were part of the struggling rank-and-file workers.

I did get into that infamous socialized tuition crap but only managed to get into Bracket 5 that meant only free tuition. I tried to appeal but it looked like joblessness and renting a house with only one bedroom were not appealing enough. Maybe I should have tried to look more emaciated like the Rwandan refugees for the hardened hearts of the committee.

I looked for scholarship funds but it seemed that a degree in Philosophy was not scholarly enough to grant a slice of the scholarship pizza.

Anyway, through the graciousness of relatives, scrimping on a P100/week allowance while living in “Farview” (“North Farview” to be exact), eventually staying in that rat-hole but beloved Narra dorm, and then working my ass off as a student assistant on a P12/hour salary, I did manage to graduate.

Of course not everyone has gracious relatives, has P100/week to spare for allowance, can live in a dorm with quota of residents, or can be a student assistant. Consequently, not everyone can graduate.

I heard from news and read the statements of student groups that warned of more fee increases in the coming school year. The government allegedly called for a moratorium on tuition fee hikes but, as in the past, it only takes a minuscule of creativity to invent new fees or dump everything in that vague miscellaneous category.

For many Filipino migrants who are breadwinners of their families, June is the time to break that piggy bank, re-adjust budget, and most often, look for money lenders.

Of course, June is just the start. It’ll be another 10 months of thinking about where to get the funds for the next school project, everyday schooling and other incidental expenses for that much-vaunted dream of a diploma.

Yeah, sadly, there are also cases wherein their scholars do not appreciate the hardships that their parents, brothers or sisters go through just to put them up through school.

After four or five years of getting indebted until the graduation march is heard, then it’s time to search for jobs.

However, it is the kind of opening everybody looks for but most graduates never find year-round.

(Photo from Arkibong Bayan)

Some Endings (or not)

2008-05-28T09:17:00.003+08:00

A friend of mine is leaving Hong Kong for good.

He put our relationship succinctly in a card he gave me last night: weird.

We are not the type who talk endlessly for hours on a regular basis. In fact, it takes a miracle for us to see each other twice or thrice a month.

Despite such infrequent meet ups, our different takes on GMA and other political matters, our different fashion sense, and our different lifestyles, our friendship survived the three years that we’ve known each other. We usually talk as if we just saw each other yesterday.

I’ll miss the cakes he brings me from the Philippines (he gave me a sinful, chocolate-topped, chocolate-filled chocolate cake last night). I’ll miss his questions about Hong Kong as if I’m the expert. I’ll miss talking to him about his exes. And darn it, I never even got the chance to see his boyfriend I advised him to say yes to years ago.

We had an easy camaraderie. Somehow, I know we’ll see each other again and somehow, I know we’ll take it up again from where we left off.

* * *

Two of my favorite TV series just had their season finale.

Season 2 of Brothers and Sisters ended with the two most unlikely persons to get married getting hitched. Then there were these two characters I’ve been dying to see kiss finally do it. Nora was her usual self that make me wish I’m a Walker. Obviously I am not but apparently a certain “Ryan” is.

Meanwhile, Grey’s Anatomy ended its fourth season with a bang. Finally, finally Derek and Meredith seem to have a chance. Cristina has resurfaced from her recently battered self. George – why isn’t he playing gay? – is getting his mojos up. Alex has shown his gentlest side yet. Izzie looks like she has found her niche.

Shonda Rhimes did convey what she wanted with those last two episodes. There’s hope and there will be Season 5.

* * *

Ka Bel will be lain to rest today. Accolades he rightfully deserves have been given in the Philippines and abroad. Many people will surely miss him. As what my friends Kiks and Ina said, it is hard to talk about Ka Bel in the past tense.

He has been an important part of the people’s movement. I guess for as long as the national democratic movement lives on, Ka Bel will always be present.

* * *

I thought about ending it last night. There’s too much at stake, too many hassles, too much complications and too many reasons to call it quits.

But I can’t ....

Ka Bel

2008-05-21T15:18:00.002+08:00

The first time I saw him, I thought, “this is him?”. He was kinda diminutive but I knew that he was a giant.

He was a giant in the Philippine labor movement. When one talks of militant Filipino workers, the name Kilusang Mayo Uno comes to mind. And for most of the my activist life, Ka Bel was the picture of KMU and of the workers’ struggle.

But I didn’t really get to talk to him until we met in Holland in 2001 for the first international assembly of the International League of People’s Struggle (ILPS) where he was elected as the first Chair. There I found out that he was funny, humble and yes, great.

Since then, I have seen him a couple of times both in the Philippines and here in Hong Kong.

Amidst all the greatness, Ka Bel lived a simple life. As a recent news article showed, he was the poorest of all members of the Philippine Congress even after six years of being in office. The lure of power and wealth that came with such a position in our society was not enough to bend his principles. For this alone, he’s a man to emulate.

I remember one time when he came to HK to speak in one event here, he had this black belt that we never noticed, until the night before the event, was tied by a flimsy rubber band. He jokingly said that he had on a jacket anyway (it was starting to get cold then) and it’ll cover it up nicely.

The last time I saw Ka Bel was when we met with him and fellow partylist representatives Satur Ocampo, Teddy Casino and Luz Ilagan in October last year for the second HK Mission for Human Rights and Peace and the Philippines. He was his usual jolly self despite being in a car accident just a couple of days before and also only a few months after he was released from more than year of “hospital arrest’ due to concocted charges.

As his colleagues said, he lived the life of a poor man up to the end. Where can you find a congressman who fixes his own roof, has an unfinished bungalow bought by a loan from GSIS, and has a net worth of P50,000?

Simple and ardent in the struggle. Despite the imprisonment, hospital arrest, harassment and failing health, he never wavered in his principles and his dream for a more humane and just society for the working class and other oppressed people.

I guess it was what made him larger than life.

(Graphics above is from BAYAN. Many articles are appearing about Ka Bel. I again stumbled upon this page that even has his love story)

Out!

2008-05-16T22:43:00.001+08:00

Coming out for gay men is usually a production number that can rival Belle Stars and the VIP dancers. Mine wasn’t so.

The first time I came out was to to my activist friends. They just asked me point blank if I am gay (if I remember correctly, it was after a couple of drinks), and I candidly said yes without even accounting for my non-existent bi years.

I think it was the time when I was really into this guy who was definitely gay but nobody dared ask. But anyway, my friends just said “good.” And it was.

It was good to finally be able to admit that any romantic notion with the Gabrielas is not a foreseeable life for me. It was good to finally be able to say the word without fear (yes, my friend Ryeness, so Broken Hearts Club). It was like the past has finally been put in its place and the future has been put in a clearer perspective. The present is still in the making.

A few hours ago, I learned of my second coming (beat that JC, a second coming) out .

My sister - the best in the world in my opinion, of course – said that she told my mother of who I am. To cap the great revelation, she told my eldest brother as well. She should have been with the KBP.

Seriously though, I am thankful. When one does not have a clear a idea on how to proceed, a slight push is always welcome.

And how did they react? My mom tried to deny it at first. My sister’s power of persuasion was just too much that she just said in the end: “ganun ba?”. My Kuya just said that it’s fine by him but he’ll pull my hair out if I get myself a boyfriend. That’s a bridge I have to cross when I see him again.

All in all, I guess it went better than many gay guys have to contend with when outting to his own family. It’s funny that the people who are supposed to love us are usually the ones we dread coming out to.

But I am confident now that however they look at gayness, my mom will still love me as her child and my bro will still treat me as his youngest sibling whose choices he has respected ever since.

I know that there’ll be moments of serious talks in the near future, but the stage has been set.

No, my coming out/outs was/were not a production number. Maybe I had it easier than some of us. The fear factor of the whole brouhaha did not figure prominently in my case.

Remember that feeling when one dreads something and as it turned, it wasn’t worth sweating it out at all? Then you just wanted to blurt out, “yun lang yun?”.

Still, I just wish for a time to come when coming out for anyone won’t be a production number. Or a number at all..

(May 17 is the International Day Against Homophobia or IDAHO. It was on this day in 1990 when the World Health Organization removed homosexuality from their list of mental disorders. This is a just personal post for the said event.)

Where are the men?

2008-05-14T12:16:00.004+08:00

While researching on ethnic minorities in Hong Kong, I found out that:

the sex ratio among ethnic minorities in Hong Kong is 293 men per 1000 women. This is much lower than the overall ratio which is 911 men per 1000 women
broken down among nationalities, ratios per 1000 women are: Whites (1842), Pakistanis (1349), Indians (1042), Japanese (1026), Thais (103)
there are 55 Filipino men per 1000 Filipino women
some say that out of every 10 men, one is gay. You can do the math.

I am so into Filipino guys. I may really be in the wrong place.

(Data from Census and Statistics Department)

A Shot at Love

2008-05-10T06:32:00.001+08:00

I bit more than I can chew when I said I’ll post something about love. I’ll take it up from what a friend wrote.

“I thrive in objectivity. By training and by practice, I analyze and rationalize and sometimes, even overly so.”

Years of talking with other people about their love life – the crazy and the profound, the romantic and the bland – has made me look at love objectively. But as others say, you’ll never really know until you feel it.

Like all other emotions, it is hard to be rational with love. Some even looks at it as insanity.

Amidst all the irrationality, a level head must still be maintained. Rationality is not the tap that can turn an emotion on and off. But it is what gives the direction. So that we get tempered. We get to consider our actions. We get to learn.

“Through common blog friends, we “met”. I enjoyed reading yours and you said the same for mine though you do not really read the political things I write about. That’s fine and it doesn’t matter now. I also do not read things you write about fashion. Maybe the themes will grow on us later.”

How do you say you know a person long enough to love him? There is no hard and fast rule I guess. Because knowing a person is a continuous process.

Of course there are the basic things to know thus the oh-so-lame now a/s/l. But people do essentially change. Thus if emotions like love is based on how you know and relate with a person, then they also change. They may grow and strengthen and they may also stagnate and die.

The condition may be difficult. In many cases, it is a matter of distance. A friend of mine said that distance is just an excuse. I say it is part of the condition that is used to justify an excuse. As we usually say, “effort talaga to.” We may lose despite the effort. But as always, the possibility is there.

“So when did it happen? I don’t know when. How did it happen?”

When one falls, he falls. Sometimes, when matters but not so much so with how.

It is seldom that one finds a person he can talk for hours with and still look forward to the next time. Of course love is not measured by such alone. If it is, then shrinks have the best romance in the world.

I do enjoy our conversations. It has become almost automatic of me to be in front of my laptop at 3:00 pm barring any meeting or appointment. This reminds me of the three o’clock habit our religion teacher taught us in primary school. Only a wee bit more sinful.

We talk. We connect. It is what we have now and maybe it will work out.

“Recently you asked what the future holds. I don’t know. The question, for now, is as wide as the ocean that is between us.”

Love. It sucks oh so often. Still, we love.

Wage War

2008-05-04T19:53:00.003+08:00

A friend of mine has urged me to write about love. But there is a raging war in Hong Kong.

Within this month or maybe the next, the Hong Kong government will announce the results of its annual review of the minimum allowable wage or MAW of foreign maids. It's a yearly exercise that only god knows what process is used because it is as transparent as the pre-Lozada NBN-ZTE deal.

We've heard of how domestic workers here are abused, overworked and sometimes driven to desperation as shown by the reported suicide cases. But not much on the story of their wage.

There is a myth that foreign maid's salary in Hong Kong is one of the highest in the world. In fact, it was one of the arguments used by the venerable proponents of the wage cut on FDW's salary in 2003.

Back then, they used the wage level in Singapore and Malaysia as comparison. It was like comparing GMA to Estrada. Now that the wage is under review again, they are silent on the fact that compared with countries at par with Hong Kong’s economy like UK and Spain, FDW wage here is insignificant.

The current MAW is HK$3,480 a month. It has suffered two drastic wage cuts in the past decade – HK$190 in 1999 and HK$400 five years ago. For the past three years, it was increased by HK$50, then by HK$80 and then by another HK$80. Peanuts in relation to what has been shaved off.

This wage level is nominally equivalent to that in 1996. As if living standards have not changed since then. Even my favorite colorum restaurant has jacked off its regular meal by 25%.

It is no wonder then that wage is such a touchy topic for foreign maids.

More so now that everyone's burdened by price increases and drop in foreign exchange rates like in the Philippines. At only a little over Php 5 per HK dollar, many are forced to look for part time jobs – which is of course illegal – just to augment their remittance to their families.

So right now, everyone’s on their toes. The May First march had the wage issue as a main call. It was fantastic show of force by thousands of FDWs who joined local trade unions.

Some of the pics:

The wage campaign is a matter of survival. It is a matter of dignifying domestic worker's work. It is a matter of giving justice to one of the most neglected, abused and exploited sectors of the working people.

Though this may not be a post about love, somehow, I feel like this still is

PS: Alright. I will post about love soon. If he says yes.

Sucker

2008-04-30T22:59:00.006+08:00

I am. For TV shows at least.

I grew up in front of the telly. Not to sound ancient, but back then, we only had a a black and white TV as a source of entertainment. That started my romance with TV series.

Yagit, Flordeliza, Agila, Valiente, Mara Clara were some of my favorites. When I learned english and felt like being more cool in the I-watch-english-shows way, I went for Knight Rider, 21 Jump Street, The Wonder Years, Beverly Hills 90210, C.H.I.P.S., Booker, and some McGyver episodes.

Now, even without a TV with good reception, cable channels, and regular hours to be a couch potato, I still remain a sucker for TV series. And a looter to boot.

Just to give an idea of how a TV series addict I am: I have a schedule of when my favorites will be available on the net, my housemates oftentimes ask me what episode number of so and so has been shown, or when will the next season or episode air, and if they can “borrow” what I have.

Some of the shows I regularly watch:

Grey’s Anatomy
I enjoy the story, the drama and the comedy. I just wish Meredith can finally get it together, Cristina to be her lovable self all the time, George to also be “herself”, Izzie to be less hyper and Alex to always wear that black singlet even in surgeries.

Brothers and Sisters
The Walkers are a riot. They definitely do not represent any family I know of. Still, their antics are a blast. Especially when they get together around that big table or in the kitchen and throw punches at each other. I wish the Republicans will not win though.

Heroes
Who doesn’t want any of those superpowers? I’ll trade my life to have Hiro’s abilities and go back in time so I can tell my past self that I should start being gay … or go to the future when GMA doesn’t sit in Malacanang.

Avatar: The Last Airbender
So I am into kung-fu. And cartoons. And hot men like Zuko. He’s a firebender for chrissake! I just wish Sokka will in the end prove that it’s the common people who overthrow tyrants like Ozai. Fine, the Avatar and benders can help.

Aside from these, I also watch Prison Break, Kyle XY, Desperate Housewives, CSI, One Tree Hill, Nip/Tuck, Friday Night Lights and The Practice. Oh yeah, I also watched all seasons of Queer as Folk and 24. And Jewel in the Palace.

Why do I watch all of these? Maybe because the choice is between watching these and watching Chinese series without subtitles. And how do I still manage to work ... and sleep? Beats me.

Hang ups

2008-04-25T09:14:00.003+08:00

Tinanong ako ng kaibigan ko, in English dahil maarte kaming mag-chat: “why are we drawn to men with hang ups?” Muntik ko nang idugtong: “or fall for them.” Pero hindi ko ginawa dahil masyadong ma-drama.

Maraming tipo ng hang ups. Iba’t iba ang hugis, tindi at laki. Para ding mga lalaki. Merong slightly hung, merong well hung at merong hang up ang pag-iisip kung sya nga ba ay hung.

Hindi ko lang alam kung directly o inversely proportional ang hang up sa pagiging hung.

May hangups na malaki at may hangups na maliit. Mayroong relatibong petty at meron din namang halos lumalamon ng buong katauhan. Mayroong bitbit pa simula puberty at meron namang nakuha sa pagla-lamyerda sa buhay-mature daw. Mayroong hinggil sa relasyon, sa kaibigan, sa pamilya, sa sex, sa trabaho, atbp. Hahaba ito kapag inisa-isa.

Maraming drama ang bakla. Ironic dahil wala sa kahulugan ng salitang “gay” ang drama. Pero sabi rin nga, sino ba namang tao ang walang drama.

Tingin ko, lahat naman ng drama ay may pinagsimulan. Weird kapag nag-emote ka na lang bigla para lang mapaiyak o dahil trip. Parang art for art’s sake lang yun.

At katulad rin ng maraming drama sa buhay, pwede ring ugatin ang drama ng bakla sa kasalukuyang kalagayan. Mahirap kumilos ng labas sa batas at praktika – legal, pulitikal, kultural, sosyal – na itinatakda ng lipunan. Anumang arte sa personal at relasyon ng mga tao ay hinuhugis din ng umiiral sa kapiligiran.

Mahirap nga marahil ang mabuhay na gay and happy. Dahil sa huli, hindi happy ang maging gay sa sitwasyon ngayon. Batbat tayo ng drama sa pag-a-out, buhay ng isang out o ng pagtukoy ng ano ba o paano ang relasyong bakla. Nasa gitna tayo ng diskriminasyon at homophobia na umaabot pa sa puntong katakutan o kasuklaman ang sariling kasarian. Umiiral din ang pang-aabuso at karahasan sa kabaklaan.

Dahil nga lipunan ang nagtatakda ng buhay-bakla, tingin ko rin ay infectious ang hang ups. Dugtong nga ng kasing-arte kong friend/chatmate, “it’s something that even a condom can’t protect you from.”

Tapos, nakakairita pa kapag naging hang up mo ang taong may hang ups. Hindi ka makapag-isip ng matino. Hindi ka makapag-trabaho ng maayos. Ang plastic ng iyong tawa. Hindi ka makabuo ng coherent thought. Minsan hyper ka. Minsan naman eh catatonic.

Mas malala kung hang up mo na rin ang hang up nya. Para talagang gremlins na dumadami pag nabasa.

Panghuli, naisip ko rin na hindi totoo na we end up with guys with hang ups. Ang totoo, we go nowhere with them. Paikot-ikot. Paulit-ulit. Iba’t iba lang ang casts.

Pero lahat naman siguro ng hang ups, one way or another, ay pwedeng tapusin – itulog lang ng isang gabi o dumaan sa maraming araw ng pagpupuyat. O ng pakikibaka kung ang hang up ay ang sistema at lipunan.

Lahat rin naman ng drama ay may ending. Gaya nito.

Triple Tragedy

2008-04-20T20:13:00.002+08:00

Still fresh from the rage that Jan-Jan's case stirred inside me, another issue close to my heart comes along.

Vicenta "Vicky" Flores, a 32-year old OFW in Hong Kong was found dead floating at the Tung Chung ferry pier on April 11. She worked as a domestic helper in Discovery Bay which is about a 20-minute bus ride - without traffic - from where her body was found.

Reportedly, after merely a week of investigation, the HK Police has considered the cause of death as drowning and declared it closed. However, there are telling circumstances that do not match up to the police's conclusion. Apparently, these were not accounted for in the investigation.

Concerned groups and individuals are now drumming up the issue and pushing for a more thorough probe on the case. A campaign has been launched that includes the participation of DB residents, Vicky's friends and families, migrant-serving NGOs, and OFW organizations. A blog has been created for this concern.

What is even more disturbing, Vicky's tragic death came from the heels of two more alleged suicide cases of OFWs in Hong Kong. One was that of Melba Alava Pardua and the other was of Caroline Agabin Dacqui who allegedly jumped off her employer's 9th floor flat in Aberdeen. Both happened on April 7. According to news reports, Melba was suffering from financial problems while Caroline's contract was terminated after only 10 months of work.

If Vicky's case turns out to be more than what the police has so far concluded, it is a tragic crime deserving of justice. The criminal or criminals must be apprehended and prosecuted.

If indeed it was suicide as what was reported of Melba's and Caroline's, it is still a tragic crime deserving of justice. Only this time, the criminal is the system that forces them to go through hell and plunges them in an unbearable situation. Unbearable enough for them to meet such fate.

When will these stop? How do we make them stop?

Somehow ... it ... we must.

Jolted by Jan-Jan

2008-04-18T21:27:00.002+08:00

Jan-Jan rocked my world. Even if I don’t know him.

By now, many of the gaydom kind (at least the bloggers) are in an uproar over what the despicable alleged doctors, nurses, medical staff and medical students who were inside the operating room, did to him. I won’t repeat what procedure at the Vicente Sotto Memorial Medical Centre in Cebu he had because that wasn’t the issue then and is definitely not the issue now.

I didn’t grow up gay though it didn’t mean I wasn’t one.

Probably like every other gay man, I didn’t have the guts to be gay before. Seeing how gay guys are ridiculed and hearing disparaging remarks about them (“bakla kasi kaya so and so”), who would want to be gay … or, even worse, an open one?

Unnatural, freak of nature, butt of jokes, looked down upon – we’ve all heard it before and it has not significantly changed. There may be more openly gay guys now, more films that tackle the issue, more gender-sensitivity education sessions that include homosexuality, more books on gay men, and more Pride marches.

But everytime we think that it’s better, gay pride gets a beating.

So no, I didn’t grow up gay. Even when I became an activist, I didn’t come out. Why? Maybe because I knew it didn’t matter with the people I worked with.

It was only about seven or eight years ago that I finally admitted to people around me that I’m gay. Being one within the activist circle shielded me from the brunt of ridicule and humiliation. Of course, it has not been a perfect world. There were still off-the-line remarks and attitudes from time to time but they could be, and they were, immediately challenged.

Ensconced within circles of politically-minded people, the reality that not everyone are like my colleagues was relegated to the back of my mind. Recognized but not realized.

Until Jan-Jan came along.

There’s the issue of ethics. There’s the issue of professionalism. And at the core of it, there’s the issue of homosexuality in Philippine society.

For all gays who have been ridiculed, laughed at and humiliated. For all those who have been forced to live in fear and in the shadows. For all those who love men and are not allowed to do so. For all those who suck, fuck and are into cocks. There’s a Jan-Jan in many of us. So, in a way, we know him.

Jan-Jan rocked my world. And it’ll take nothing short of liberation that can put it back in place.

(I do hope that gays back home will do something about this. If gays abroad can do anything, I’ll put in what I can. Some ideas are here.)

Of Music and Me(n)

2008-04-15T07:34:00.003+08:00

When someone asks me what music I go for, I usually give a vague answer. I have a varied taste in music as varied as my taste in men. Fine, not really with men.

I am no music critic for sure. I know neither heads nor tails of the nuances of a good music. I pick up whatever music that takes my fancy. And no, that’s not how I do it with guys.

Just last year, I’ve built a whole new collection from the album of Pink to Snow Patrol, from KT Tunstall to Maroon 5, from Amos Lee and Gary Jules to a smorgasbord of OPMs that included great songs from The Company. There were also some more albums from various artists that I played from time to time.

Last year with men, I had a collection of one. I haven’t played his memories for a while now.

Early this year, I rekindled my love affair with the Indigo Girls. Their poetic songs just about fit a wide range of emotions from the longing in Ghost to the decisiveness of Last Tears. Add to that their political leanings especially on women as expressed most recently in Pendulum Swingers, the duo of Amy Ray and Emily Saliers – with their beautiful blending – have never left my playlist for months.

While my affair with the girls was raging, I also had a tryst with Michael Ball. Notwithstanding his boyish good looks and those adorable dimples, his rendition of some popular songs and Broadway hits makes for memorable mushy sessions.

For the past months with men though, there were no affairs or trysts. There was a guy … but never mind.

Since last week, I’ve been listening to Sigur Ros. When I first played their music in the office, my colleagues rushed to the window to see if there was a funeral march outside. Talk about getting knocked out on the first round.

Last week when I was all alone, I played them again and I was lost.

I got lost in their music and just sat down for about an hour drinking coffee and smoking. There is something in their beat that soothes and relaxes. It actually feels like being transported to a magical place where fairies, including me, fly about freely.

Each song of theirs reveals a story – from the simple enough intro to a whole gamut of climaxes and to an ending that sometimes make you wonder why did it happen that way.

I got lost in their words, literally. Nobody really knows what most of their lyrics mean. Then again, it did not actually matter.

And that voice of Jon Birgisson! Ethereal.

With men, or at least a man, I got lost and am now finding my way back.

So yes, how I choose my music is very much different from the way I fall with men. But they actually have two things in common: I stick with them like warts for a long, long time and both excludes Britney Spears.

30 @ 30

2008-04-08T19:17:00.001+08:00

He is dead. But GMA did not kill him.

Lately, he had been known to take a swing at GMA every time he could. You could see it in his blog. He was a political animal that no PSG could have controlled him had he met La Gloria on the streets. He would have, uhmm, tripped her at the very least.

But his life could not really be defined by the past months or even years. Others have known him in various ways in the three decades that he lived.

Some knew him as the kid who read Mills & Boons, Harlequin and Silhouette Romance. Later in his life, he even shifted to Tagalog romance prose. Even much later, he was the fantasy and sci-fi reader who still rooted himself with reality.

Some knew him as the Mama’s Boy who was never afraid to be seen with his mother even in college. He had much love and respect for his mom. Had his father outlived him, he would have also loved to be called a Papa’s Girl.

Some knew him as the “plant” who never seemed to show libido or take notice of species of the opposite sex. If only they knew him later they would have known why.

Some knew him as that pretending-to-be-straight turned pretending-to-be-bi turned gay-with-no-pretension guy. Especially in the last years of his life, he finally left his comfortable closet and even ventured out of the room.

Some knew him as the guy who lived up to his star sign of the Virgin ... kidding!

Some knew him as that perennial joker who never seemed to stop making fun even of serious situations. Once, a friend forlornly told him that it was her dad’s nth death anniversary. He silently thought for a while then asked, “so should I say condolence or happy anniversary?”

Some knew him as the guy who couldn’t seem to get his stuffs in proper order. It usually took the highest level of tolerance to live with how he just put his things around. He lived a cluttered life. Literally.

Some knew him as the wannabe singer, wannabe lawyer, wannabe guitar player, wannabe photoshop guru, wannabe writer, wannabe lover. Indeed he had wanted many things. He might not have gotten most but for him, what he had was what mattered.

His life could not be defined by the past months or years. How the people around him knew him could sum up how his life had been. At different periods, indeed it was him.

Yes, lately he had been known for his activism and stand on GMA and her policies. To his last breath and his last post, he could not help it but take another swing at her.

He is dead. But GMA or the likes of her did not kill him. They never really could. Never in life and not even in death.

(Written on a dare of blogger friends to post a eulogy for myself. Morbid but it’s in the name of good ‘ole fun and friendship. Bruised my knuckles knocking on wood. Check this for others who bid themselves and the world goodbye.)

“Memo-rice”

2008-04-06T19:06:00.005+08:00

Out of all the lines and words I memorized, this was one of the classics. Not only for its wit but for the reality it represented then.

In 2006, nine Filipino seafarers were left stranded by their employer in Hong Kong. They were not given their proper salary, were instead issued checks that bounced, then were left to fend for themselves.

They approached the Philippine Consulate General in HK but were told that they could not be able to pursue their case. Undaunted though, they sought the help of fellow Filipinos who referred them to the Mission for Migrant Workers (HK) Society (MFMW) or Mission.

Together with the Mission, they pursued their labor claims.

Aside from their labor case, however, they had to contend with the problem of sustaining themselves while their case was heard. Generous members of the community contributed to their needs but it was not enough.

So of course they approached the PCG-HK for assistance again. So of course they were denied again. So of course we rallied … were denied … and rallied again.

It was in one of those actions that a seafarer coined the term “memo-rice” to depict how they had to stare hard at the rice in every one of their meals because they were not sure when and where the next bowl will come from.

I was moved then and it all came back to me now. Will it reach such a point back home?

But in the first place, has it not been happening at all? Even the data of the National Statistics Coordination Board (NCSB) said that 33% of Filipinos live with US$1 a day. That can barely cover daily meals much less other basic needs.

The rice crisis has raised long-standing issues on Philippine agriculture such as liberalization, non-subsidy to farmers, land monopoly, land conversion and even corruption. These are the issues that have brought about the greatest irony in our land – the producers of food are the ones who go hungry.

In the face of rising rice problem, the development GMA boasted of while in Hong Kong sounded more hollow.

It was kinda dramatic that while GMA wined and dined in one of the most lavish hotels in HK, about 2,000 domestic helpers were shouting for some of the most basic things that are usually disregarded in such expensive events – rights, food, jobs and services.

GMA has no problem with memories and memorization. It’s the reality in the ground that she conveniently forgets.

By the way, the stranded seafarers won both of their cases. The PCG-HK was pressured to provide for their needs and, more than a year after, they won their labor claims.

These are the fond "memo-rice" to hold on to.

The Burden of Guilt

2008-04-03T06:48:00.005+08:00

It can be very heavy to the point of being made a stuff of horror films. At least in the case of Shutter.

I have never been a fan of horror flicks. But I let myself get persuaded by a friend to see this one. Of course, the most persuasive line was that the lead actor was an eye-candy.

Yes he was. However, it was not what struck me with the film. Neither was the dirty and matted-hair ghost of a dead woman floating beside a speeding car nor her almost decomposed body on the bed because her mother couldn’t just bear the thought of burying her. Still to be honest, I now refuse to look behind me while walking in dimly-lit halls.

But what struck me was the image of guilt carried on the shoulders of Tun played by Ananda Everingham. Disturbing for it is true.

Guilt is indeed a weighty burden to bear. As such, there are times that I do not want to pick it up.

Maybe due to pride, a high regard of one’s self (healthy on one respect, can also be destructive on another), self-preservation, or just plain denseness– I sometimes take guilt in strides.

But I do know that I cause harm.

Of course they are not deliberate acts like murder, plunder or cheating on elections. Only a pachyderm of the highest level will not feel guilty with these.

The more complicated ones are those I do inadvertently. But I guess, the most well-meaning among us can also offend others. Nobody can be Ms. Congeniality every second of every minute of his life. It can be something I said in jest, a joke that was way out of line, or something that I did. Or something I did not do.

Most of the time, I am not conscious about it and it takes a while for these to sink in. Sometimes I even try to lighten my guilt by placing the blame on the other party. Blame it on his oversensitivity. Blame it on his hangups. Blame it on his nature. Blame it on the weather. Whatever.

True, the blame cannot be equal. But who said that it should be? Inequality is part of the current societal setup and fault is of no exception.

But the point really is that I also have my own faults. They may be minor or secondary but they are there and nothing good can come out with getting all uppity and high-handed about them.

We need a healthy dose of guilt sometimes. A good exercise is to imagine the harm we’ve caused others, the hurt we inflicted on those around us, the anxiety we made others feel, and the pain that we somehow stirred on other people.

It can be very heavy indeed that we may find ourselves depressed and our backs bent to a 90-degree angle with the stuffs we are trying to carry. Then again, if handled well, it can be liberating and can usually make us a better person.

Now, if only I can imagine Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo doing the same ….

A series of Firsts

2008-03-29T11:23:00.008+08:00

In my first three years in Hong Kong, my previous work included loads of traveling overseas that I often thought that Hong Kong was actually a layover and not my base.

Many of the details of these sorties abroad are now forgotten. Blame it on my passive nature then that didn’t even give me the urge to jot down a travelogue, collect postcards and, by god, even just take photos!

However, there are some memories that I believe I’ll never forget. These are the “firsts” of experiences that made those three years treasured ones.

So since my emotional upheaval is done and there’s no point seething about GMA’s visit tomorrow – I’ll just pour it all out in the rally – I’ll just do this montage of selected firsts of my overseas escapades.

New York, USA: First homeless wandering

At exactly 12:00 MN, our plane arrived at the JFK International Airport. With all the usual immigration and customs brouhahas, I managed to get out at almost 1:00 am.

As instructed, I looked for a bus to take me to the hotel where I was billeted. Sadly, there were no buses so I took a cab that cost me US$32. With what was left of my hundred bucks, I figured that I’d get by fine enough for my hosts will put me up.

At the front desk though, I found out my name was not on their list. The cost of one night: US$70. Damn! And of course, I was not allowed to spend the night in the lobby.

So with my backpack and two other luggages, I walked the streets of Manhattan while it was cold and damp. I finally chanced upon a 24-hour coffee shop where I splurged my remaining dollars on coffee after coffee, fries after fries, and a burger that could last me a week.

Being forced to stay awake until 8:00 in the morning, I did finish a project proposal for the office.

Lesson learned: make the most of a shitty situation. (On second thought, I should just have asked that friendly policeman to lend me US$2)

Panama City, Panama: First shouting match with a government official

The issue then was the refusal of the government to reimburse travel expenses of Asian delegates to that event that I think is better left unnamed.

Previous meetings were sober enough. My colleagues and I thought that since we were foreigners in that land, it was more prudent to rein in our temper. But as with negotiations with government officials go, the empty promises just made our blood boil.

It was an A-grade shouting match with everyone on their feet and vying to get the top spot in the loudest voice category. Until finally, the government personnel said “I am a lawyer and I know the law!” to which my officemate angrily retorted, “I am a lawyer too!”

A couple of hours later, I asked my colleague, “Hey, I never knew you’re a lawyer as well aside from being a chemist.” He just smiled and said, “I’ve got about nine law units in Nepal.”

I was dumbstruck.

Bangkok, Thailand: First heavy flirtation

I have always been well-behaved abroad. But when I met this guy in Bangkok, he kinda blew my mind away. Prim and proper be damned.

With friends in tow, we hopped from bar to bar. I was pushed – with least resistance – to sit beside him, talk to him and, geez, dance with him. Mushy, mushy.

After sweating and drinking the night away, we all headed back to our friend’s place to continue with our hedonistic ways. As if I didn’t notice, all my other buddies started to drift away from the two of us.

So there were just the two us, sitting on the floor, with a candle lighted. We swapped stories and drank Thai whiskey. I didn’t mind his broken english for I was busy fluttering my eyelashes while he talked. Much later, we finally hit the bed ….

I woke up only to realize I only had about 90 minutes left to catch my flight. With a hangover, I let my colleague drag me through the whole check-in procedures.

Once seated on the plane, she turned to me and asked, “so what happened?”

I turned my back to her, closed my eyes and before I drifted off to dreamland I answered, “if you wanna do something nasty, stay sober.”

Dakar, Senegal: First imprisonment

It was not due to anything political but a blunder that was monumental.

We had a break from the meeting we were having and most of the participants decided to partake of the offer to become tourists for the day. Since I’ve already availed of that in a previous trip, I chose to stay put and wander around the hotel.

A full bladder later on found me frantically searching for a comfort room. When I found one, I rushed to a cubicle, locked the door and breezed through the relief process. As I was about to leave, lo and behold, the door wouldn’t budge.

For about 45 minutes, I was trapped in a 3 x 5 cubicle, with a floor-to-ceiling door and with the toilet bowl as my company. I kicked and screamed for help but nobody came. I wrote down “I’m trapped inside” and pushed it outside through the door’s crack in case I lose consciousness.

My last-ditch attempt to shout out for help was finally heard by a janitor passing by the CR. When I was free, I rushed to the main door and as I was about to open it, I found the sign “Do not use the toilet, broken door.”

I was not sure whom to get mad at.

(Photo 1: YMCA Vanderbilt where I eventually stayed; Photo 2: Just a picture of Panama City. I couldn't get a photo of that government official; Photo 3: Thai Whiskey. Sigh!; Photo 4: Goree Island. One of the most popular attractions in Dakar. The island played an important part in the trade of African slaves before.)

Dark, Darker, Darkest

2008-03-25T08:04:00.006+08:00

The first describes Hong Kong weather for the past days. I’d like to think that it commiserates with my nearly-done emo, but I bet whoever is up there is not bent to do that because I was not that holy last week.

But I’m not going to bore everyone with rants on Hong Kong’s boring weather. The topic never interested me as well.

Darker, however, are the treatment of Afghan and Iraqi prisoners depicted in Taxi to the Dark Side and the story of Indians narrated in Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee. Throw in this article on the Philippine-American War and it’s a recipe for a different lenten reflection.

I’m not going to do any review on these. Enough to say that all of them can make one’s heart bleed out for they showed the history of brutality perpetuated by US policies to different peoples – Afghans, Iraqis, Filipinos and Indians.

An interesting note is that the water cure being done to rounded up Afghans and Iraqi prisoners – who, by the way, were not put on trial – was also done to Filipinos more than a century ago. Torture cuts across time.

US soldiers though did not torture the Indians. They just massacred them, castrated their warriors, fooled their chiefs and “scalped” them.

But the darkest of my days comes with the news of someone coming to town who is definitely not Santa, by name or by deeds.

No other than GMA is coming here.

It’s like a tired old script when her position is seriously threatened – she’ll fly abroad with her full entourage in tow, talk to foreign governments to beg for more “aids” and investments, then come back and brag about economic packages secured. At the end of it, we have the likes of the NBN-ZTE deal.

Of course the drama will not be complete without an appearance before the Filipino community to have a showcase of OFW support. At this moment, a grand gathering of OFWs is being organized by the Philippine Consulate General – Hong Kong at the even grander Grand Hyatt Hotel.

Then there are the rumors. Showbiz will not be fun without them. Rumors are flying of buyouts to secure attendance, of gimiks (raffle for a house and lot maybe?) to entice more groups to come, and the ever present T-Shirts as giveaways.

Our office or any organization I’m active with does not have invitation to any of GMA’s affairs.

As if I care. I’d rather talk about Hong Kong’s weather than listen to more lies and gibberish nonsense.

Then again, I’ll still be there. Out on the streets where the light of hope of GMA’s ouster will be shining bright.

*****

On another note, I read this post on one of the favorite pulutans nowadays – Janina San Miguel and the hoopla of the last Bb. Pilipinas. It made me feel guilty. I thank the author for this different and educational discourse on the fracas.

Move!

2008-03-20T17:09:00.006+08:00

Last night, I sat alone in a bar for about an hour. I didn’t mind.

I had an almost full pack of yosi and free drinks so I figured that it was the best time to sort out some of the riotous thoughts and emotions I had for the past days.

It was the night after I chatted with a friend that started out simply enough with “bz ka friend?” and turned into a great two-hour chat. Somewhere between talking about blogging to possible future projects, I told him that I’m moving on.

Too many times we’ve said it. Maybe the same many times we’ve been told. “Move on.”

We know what we mean by moving on – moving on. We also know where we want to be – anywhere but here. We also usually know the when – once it starts hurting like hell and there’s really no way to turn it around. As for the why, it is oftentimes because you’ll be a complete idiot if you don’t.

Somehow though, we usually miss out on the “how”.

There should be a roadmap to moving on. I’ve been in this situation before so I should know how. I’ve done it and I should be able to do it again.

But it’s actually the tricky part. Each situation is different from the other. It’s not like the path from home to work that I can take even with my eyes closed.

I don’t have anything profound to say about how this one will be done.

All I know is that it is the reality. And there’s nothing profound about reality. It just has to be studied, confronted and changed if possible.

So I thought about it, drafted some kind of a mental plan to face it and decided that if the change in reality that I want is not possible, I’ll be fairly satisfied with how things will turn out once I get there.

While puffing like a chimney and drinking like there’s no tomorrow by my own merry self, I realized that it is not aloneness that sucks. It is getting stuck. Like everybody is moving, things are happening and you are left out. I guess, it is where the feeling of aloneness comes from.

Brandi Carlile was wrong she when said that “alone is the last place I wanted to be”. Immobility is. And I definitely don’t want to be there.

Sorry if I can’t tell the details of how I’ll move on. But after an hour and my friends came, it started.

Kay Sherlyn

2008-03-16T22:20:00.002+08:00

Nang mabasa ko ito, marami na akong gustong gawin.

Gusto kong sumigaw kahit pa magtaka ang mga kapitbahay at sugurin kami. Kahit paano, malaman ng iba ang nangyari. Basta kahit paano, ma-kondena ko kahit saglit ang ginawa sa kanya.

Gusto ko ring tawagan ang kanyang ina na nakilala ko sa ilang araw na pagtigil sa Pilipinas noong Oktubre. Narinig ko ang kanyang kwento. Nakita ko na sa likod ng kanyang tapang ay naroon pa rin ang takot sa maaaring kinahinatnan ng anak na noon ay halos dalawang taon nang nawawala.

Sa isang sandali, naisip ko rin na itatak na lamang sa utak ang nangyari. Katulad ng marami nang kwento at balita. Isa lang sya sa marami pa.

Gusto ko rin sanang umiyak. Tulad noong hindi ko mapigilan ang lumuha nang una kong mapanood ang bidyo ng “Sa Ngalan ng Tubo”. Tungkol sa mga manggagawang-bukid ng Hacienda Luisita na minasaker dahil sa pagtutol sa P9.50 na sahod sa kada araw ng pagta-trabaho.

Kaso, mukhang ayaw ng mata ko. Mas nangingibabaw ang ngitngit. Mas lumalalim ang galit.

Nang sundan ko ang kwento hanggang dito, nag-desisyon na lang akong isulat ito.

Hindi ko sya kilala.

Matagal na akong wala sa unibersidad nang tumuntong sya sa kolehiyo. Pareho man kami ng daang tinahak, hindi kailanman nagtagpo ang aming landas.

Hindi ko nga sya kilala. Katulad rin naman na hindi ko kilala si Karen. O si Cris, o si Ambo. Sa mahigit 900 pangalan at dagdag pang 200 pinaghahanap, isa o dalawa lamang yata ang aking nakita sa personal.

Pero hindi naman yun ang mahalaga.

Marami akong gustong gawin pagkatapos ko syang basahin. Sa huli, nagpasya na lang akong ituloy ang ginagawa ko.

Maiintindihan din nya ako.

Simple Pleasures

2008-03-15T06:41:00.003+08:00

A friend asked me recently why do I seem always happy and I was kinda lost as to what to say.

It is true that my bouts of sadness and depression have been so far in between that I can only remember the major ones such as the death of my dad and uhm, the death of my dad.

Even my so-called heartaches did not really get me down except for a couple of hours of emotive talks with friends. Of course there were a few tears here and there, a moment of a faraway look and some heaviness in the chest not caused by growing boobs. But these were also still sprinkled with smiles and jokes.

Then there are matters like extrajudicial killings and abuses against migrant workers. While they make me sad, I feel more angry and indignant about these stuffs to the point of strangling General Palparan until he chokes out what he has done to victims of enforced disappearances; or force abusive employers, recruiters and government officials who treat migrant workers like dirt to be a domestic helper for a day and see how far they can go until they cry uncle.

Am I just too carefree? Or maybe, I’m just the kind of guy who finds it easy enough to get pleasure anywhere. And I don’t mean cruising spots.

When I was a kid, I used to get happiness just from watching tadpoles inside a bottle turn into frogs. Pleasure with an ewww. Or just lying down under the stars on these colorful folding beds with my cousins during power outages while playing “bugtungan”.

Also, I used to be satisfied with just sitting around with these other kids under a tree waiting for the scorching sun to lay off a bit while one of my friends sang this commercial combo: “Palmolive shampoo … Shower to Shower … Ovaltine!”.

As a grown up and all, I still take pleasure in anything at least once a day.

Like three nights ago with the beckies to celebrate the birthday of a friend over drinks and talks of the mundane and the profound.

Or the other night when me and my housemates sat til 2:30 am watching a Spanish movie with teenie weenie subs. But because it was a horror film, I did not really mind not getting the drift of each dialogue for as long as I jumped out of my seat at the right moment.

Or yesterday morning when I overslept and thus caught the showing of The Ultimate Avengers on TV. In the afternoon, I sat listening to a mixed playlist of favorite singers speckled with Regina Spektor songs that I found weirdly good but, since I was working, I couldn’t be bothered as to think about why so.

Or now that I’ve finally finished writing something for this blog instead of just thoughts driving around my head without any direction at all.

Some may call it shallow. But with all the bull and a-holes in the world, simple pleasures from what I do and how I live are just the things I need to go on.

I’m happy just sitting here drinking my coffee and smoking my yosi. Heck, if GMA is ousted, I’ll be too freakin’ happy it’ll make everyone’s teeth hurt. Simple enough eh?

Desperate Housemaids

2008-03-11T14:46:00.014+08:00

Ninety-five per cent of 120,000. You can do the math and that is approximately the number of Filipino women domestic workers in Hong Kong with desperate stories to tell.

Choose a handful of that 95% and I’ll bet all my virtual boyfriends in the world that none of them will say that they’ve dreamed of becoming domestic helpers when they were young and in pigtails.

I will never demean domestic work because it is an honest and decent job. Even more honest and decent than the Presidency of RP as it is fast turning out to be.

But if really given a choice, none of these women will opt to be domestic workers. However, when one is desperate to survive, dreams fly out of the window, college degrees remain diplomas on the wall, and licenses as teachers, nurses, midwives and what-have-yous are just mementos in wallets of a profession that can not feed a family.

Desperation can make one leave their own children or old folks to take care of someone else’s brood and parents. Try showing films like “Anak” or “Inang Yaya” to a roomful of our kababayans and you can get the best casts for “Crying Ladies” including hundreds more extras.

The same desperation also makes these women bear abuses to unimaginable point. Like eating noodles and biscuits for two months because her salary has not yet been given and she is forbidden to eat the family’s food. Or being given food but ordered to eat together with the dogs and clean their shit even if she’s not yet done eating.

Or how about being forced to cover her feet and hands with plastic bag all the time because she looks “dirty”? Or being tied up and a panty shoved into the mouth while her employer beats her up? Or being spitted at? Or sexually-harassed? Or raped?

The thought of how to pay the debts incurred in the Philippines to come to Hong Kong, of debts earned while in Hong Kong, of the mouths to feed, of children in school, of needed medicines, of the future – these can drive anyone to desperation.

Desperation comes when a society provides no decent and viable employment. When social services are golds. When golds are the monopoly of the rich. When the rich has the monopoly of the government. And the government is that of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.

In our rally for a pay hike for foreign maids last Sunday, a colleague of mine heard this conversation when they reached the front of the building that houses the Philippine Consulate General.

Woman 1: Ibuka mo na yang placard mo.
Woman 2: (While looking at the building) Wala namang makakabasa mula sa kanila eh.
Woman 1: Mababasa pa rin yan ni Lord.

Maybe it is faith. Or maybe it is a last desperate attempt to get the Big Boss’ attention for obviously, the powers that be on earth are not listening.

Ninety-five percent of 120,000. Beyond the math are the desperate stories. Beyond the desperate stories are the reasons why there is a desperate need for change.

What ails me?

2008-03-08T17:31:00.002+08:00

Activists have oftentimes been seen as these tough men and women who will not back out from a fight nor be afraid of getting hurt. In my case, the first one may be true most of the time. The second one is something I’m still trying to work out.

I am deathly scared of pain.

When I was a kid, I ran from a tooth extraction operation even after the dentist has put loads of anaesthesia on my gums. Despite the number of times I was pricked by that syringe, I still cringed when that cold implement touched my aching tooth.

Eventually, the dentist caught up with me, strapped me on her dental chair and pulled hard.

That same fear of pain made me believe then that I should just call for St. Roque to avoid getting bitten by dogs. Of course, that time I didn’t mind having a patron saint for canines and none for the gaydom-kind as long as he saved me from his creatures.

Later on, I still found myself getting gnashed in the butt by our own dog. Traitor!

I was also a very well-behaved child for my father did not suffer hardheadedness and disobedience lightly. Whose dad does, anyway?

When I was about 10 though, I experienced getting switched by him for trying to outrun a bus all the way to the Batangas port on my bike.

I was also taught not to have anything red on me when I see a cow. Now I can see red just by looking at the cow of a president we have.

Looking back, though I’ve never been attacked by a cow, I was almost trampled by a carabao.

These stories are more on the physical pains. There are still the emotional pains that are even harder to face and feel. How many among us have experienced that excruciating pain that, much as we try to, we cannot easily pinpoint where it hurts the most?

Through all these pains, I realized that try as I might to avoid them, they still come and pull my insides, bite me in the ass, or impale and bleed me dry.

All I can do is to just bear them, heal the wounds and let the scar be a badge to the world that I’ve gone through hell and back. After everything and like everything, pain passes. Fast or slow, complete or not, they do.

Eventually, life always takes over and forces me to look at pain as something that it gives out to humor and teach me lessons. Cruelly most of the time.

Why am I talking about these?

Because I am in pain. I’m aching all over. I’m hurting in places I find hard to reach.

I just came back from the gym after a two-month absence. Aarghhh!