Thursday, March 19, 2009

Episode Zero: The Word

It has been a month or more since that fateful discussion in the dining room with my tactless friend and my extremely prudent, won't-admit-she's-wrong, mother.

My friend, being tactless, opens the topic of our group's pact that we should all get tested for HIV. My mother, the natural prude that she is, jumps to a conclusion and delivers a bad joke of saying that if one is HIV positive, one should just jump off a bridge. (She should try saying that with a bullhorn in the middle of Castro disctrict, in San Francisco, and I'd like to see what happens.)

At that time, I was a few days away from going to the Hygiene Clinic in Manila. The way she delivers her joke was really annoying. Come on, let's face it, mothers have that uncanny ability to annoy EVERYONE and ANYONE who's not on top of their totem pole, and my being "the gay middle child" is not a recipe for getting anywhere near that pole. (I prefer a different type of pole, mind you.)

Nearly two months after, I'm here now typing this blog, living a brand new life after realizing that I'm a 'PUSIT'.

So what's a PUSIT? In Filipino, it means squid, the aquatic invertibrae with tentacles that spits out ink. But in our subculture for gay linggo, the english word 'positive' is then sprinkled with a little pixie dust, as we all know how we faggetz tend to play with verbs, to form the term "PUSIT" from the 'posit' of positive.

Yes I'm beginning a blog about this new chapter of my life where I am still pondering on how Its going to run. No hassle on wondering how it's going to end, though, I know life's all about possibilities and I could get run over by a truck tomorrow (knock on wood) and no ARV drug would be able to save me and my poor waning CD4 cells.

And like every other pusit out there in the world, I need an outlet. It has to be here. Walking around and being open about it, in a hypocritical, generally Catholic country like mine, is going to get me the attention I never wanted for the rest of my life.


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