Manila Gay Guy, The World Cup and a Little Fall of Rain

Being too analytical, I forgot to include a spark in my thoughts with regards to Manila Gay Guy's book launching alongside E's'Chronicles of E'. Being too occupied with the world cup schedules and reports, I was in a hurry and couldn't include it in my last post.

A sample piece narrated by Manila Gay Guy somewhat reminded me of a key factor to anyone's outcome in their life: the parent.

A mother shared her dilemma to him regarding her son, who at the tender age of 7, seemed to turn out to be gay. The kid's innate ability to imaginatively transform toy guns into blow dryers, a dead ringer to most of us, made her question her child's orientation. The author cited his thoughts which had a more supportive aspect for the child's behavior and it ultimately conveyed the idea of filling the child with the right kind of love, no matter what. Not really spoiling him, but it turns out that it ought to give the child his ability to stand in a country where young boys, in general, would usually bully fruity tadpoles into submission (not that I'm complaining about leather and bondage); especially in exclusive schools. He ended his piece with a salvific note from another blog follower of his that guaranteed a hundred fold return of love from that child when he grows up; besting the ideas that he would even put his own mother first before any boy that melts his budding heart.

It was nice to hear. Really. I didn't just hear. I listened to it. I let myself bask in the thought of it because it was so ideally and politically correct and sound. And the good news for that mother and her unicorn riding princess of a son is that they still have the time to do the right thing and do it right.

Good news for them. Not for me.

My mother did it the way she believed was best: she sent me to a shrink; resulting with the shrink agreeing there was nothing wrong with me and that my mother ought to have listened to me or what my heart had to say.

Too~ late~

It's not really much of a big deal now. I know my mother all too well that she'd listen to what she thinks is right especially if you were subordinate to her ergo one of her children. I'm not saying that I'm parallelizing her magnitude to how HIV weighed on me, I'm just giving credit to her for prompting me to develop a side that can coldly cope and treat any real life situation like it was a arithmetic problem to be solved on the board: you digest it, you deal with it, you put what you believe is the answer, and you turn your back on it with a smile. It doesn't have to be correct. You're not here to please everyone. You just deal with it the way life has carved you to move. Thanks to my mom, I deal with the nasties with practical thinking and humor that's as dry as a California Raisin. And no, she's not gonna hear this from me any moment soon.

It's just fun to hear about very young kids turning out to be gay and it's giving their mother a miracle that puts them at wit's end either to think it good news or bad news. Really cute.

Speaking of news, the world cup has just ended and the finals was a bonanza of fouls, yellow cards, a red card with dismissal and free kicks galore. It was Spain versus The Nederlands. Just last night, neither of the countries have taken home the World Cup. (if you're wondering why I'm talking about Soccer in detail, I can assure you I'm still gay and I'm driving at something here) It's the finals, and like I said both teams haven't sank their fangs on a World Cup title which equates to a prompt for desperation. Against Spain's superb possession skills and their creative passing and sneaky offense, the Nederlands, being physically bigger and bulkier than our former conquerors, knew they would need something to counter the enemy's finesse: the Dutch put their dukes up-- literally.

Pushing, shoving, tackling, tripping and even kicking a Spaniard's torso was part of their imaginative inventory. True enough, smoking legal pot really DOES give you great ideas where to swing your leg at. The 'Fallen' Dutchmen were a perfect example of how people could make mistakes during times of desperation.

Theirs was a predicament I wouldn't mind being in. In fact, to some, I already am in one. But again, like I said, I do not mind because there are times that you cannot change the predicament but you can most definitely change your approach.

That's the mistake my mother made long ago. She wanted to change my predicament. I, being young at that time, was not yet equipped enough to take it with grace and I did my own 'Nederlands' then and here I am now, writing this but with a smile because I accept that the predicament cannot be changed but my approach can be, that I know, deep in my heart, has won a World Cup of its own.

Thanks Manila Gay Guy, you make sense. Thanks `ma, you blew it but because of that, I won't. And thanks Nederlands, you got four more years to realize that Soccer's rules don't change.

And about the little fall of rain? Hehehe, I'm just writing this while it's raining outside. Rain inspires me.

I hope the rain helps to bring down the electric bill soon, though.

Viva España!!!

And Iker Casillas was hot!!!

So there, I proved my point. I stand gay.

And E Takes the Stage

There he is.

He's going public with a publication to rock the nation.

Or is the nation going to rock or rather stone him?

My absence in this blog symbolizes my contentment with my current life.

But I had to put this up because I am eternally a student in heart and mind and I would always question an action-- at times even over analyzing its outcome.

E has launched his book, Chronicles of E, and is adding an out of the closet (again [?]) flare of someone living in a third world country, with majority of the people living in fear of what E, I and a whole lot more of the alphabet have-- HIV.

I like E. I actually look up to him for a lot of reasons.

One of the most conniving reasons is because he, alongside some, are outing themselves and testing how the 'humans' (hehehe) will take it.

With how my family runs, I am compelled to pull back my horses and am given the advantage to observe and study all possible angles of these landmark actions.

Their actions are not something new; it's something probably hypothesized-- but I learned another angle that twists it: it's different when it hits home.

Speaking of home, some people who know me have already come up to me to quench their curiosity of hearing a rumor about me being positive. As of the moment, it is my prerogative to choose those whom will share my double edged sword.

My sincerest apologies to those whom I have misled. It is not yet time for you to know the truth about me, I believe. It is best that you continue to know me as you always did; I learned this because not all those I chose to open up to took it well. Some were swept with despair and could not face it.

For me, what started off as a new beginning has now turned into a psychological battle that will test my resolve and my penchant for survival's glory.

After all, there are those who aren't even infected who're simply not learning from already redundant experience. And unfortunately, these people come in huge numbers.

Is it not I who should feel despair for them instead?

I will sit back and watch how this unfolds.

I will share my lessons learned in time to all.

And to all, I pray that it is not too late.