The Changes I Never Saw Happening

For the record, I recall my last viral load count to be quite high. My CD4 count has gradually gone down a bit too for 2 consecutive check ups at RITM.

Frankly, it doesn't really mean anything to me. I am aware I've taken my medications religiously-- I may be shifted to a different cocktail, if the decrease of T Cells continue. I recall I ought to be reacting negatively toward this... but it really doesn't mean anything to me now.

Truth is, I'm happy. Genuinely happy with myself. This is more than just peace of mind and peace per se; it's that feeling that somehow I knew I've been looking for this feeling ever since I was but young.

And what is this feeling? It's being the little me again more than twenty five years ago. I just AM me now. All the stories I made up, all the masks I created as reactions to situations, all the negativity towards anything that brought me pain or anything that earned my ire through all those years: GONE.

It's really funny; I've been looking for answers out there all these years and I never knew that the real answer was buried in me; under layers of masks and, stories and roles that I made up to rationalize all the flaws and make myself correct.

Haha~

Seething with anger, I was obsessed with vengeance and the inability to let go of the past. Drowning in fear, I trembled before things that were not even really there yet. I wasn't wholly living with what was presently before me: life.

I learned to forgive myself.

In fact, just today, I was speaking to my ex, who is now really a very very close friend of mine. He told me that maybe I didn't notice, but there are huge changes with me that he notices me to clueless about.

Acknowledging what he had said, I just told him it still wouldn't really mean anything or much to me. It just is and I'm happy with it. Probably, so happy that I don't even notice at all.

With all the heavy feelings gone; I'm left with nothing: empty and meaningless.

And with this empty and meaningless beginning, I am awash with gratitude and joy as I am given the gift of having infinite possibilities.

And what possibility have I chosen?

I have chosen to be my mother's son: a candid and charming boy that will drive people crazy with joy, warmth and happiness.

I'm back to zero and I'm loving it.

Now I just wonder where did I even pick up the idea that starting with nothing was bad? Nah, I probably have forgotten why I even thought that way-- I wouldn't even look for it and probably never think so again.

My life now begins with a choice. I'm taking the first step alive~

See? Not even the decreasing CD4 count bothers me at all; point is, I know that I've touched the lives of many and probably have made changes that I never even knew were possible.

God, thank You~

I Lost the Lotto, So What?

I just had a walk coming from Burger King, just behind my house and I'm stuffed. The Whopper meal came with a bonus Whopper Jr. which I didn't expect.

After devouring everything, I walked home and enjoyed the cold weather which felt like San Francisco's cool breeze at 12 noon around a year ago. I'm still stuffed, typing this, but heck, I'm feeling great!

I joined the Landmark Forum by the way, after being bugged by an ex of my for nearly 3 or 4 years, or so? I just happened to join it now? Why? Gee, I dunno. At the end of it, he wondered aloud on me, asking why I took it when I found out I was positive. Well, I didn't really plan on taking it at all. I didn't even think I'd come out positive, Sherlock. But I guess by being so, I was able to share my story to my batch.

I was scared. I was skeptical and even cynical going there on my first day-- late even. It's a considerable amount, getting into it, but after graduating from it, I believe it's hella worth it.

I was probably the class' person with the busiest tear glands in his eyes. The coach really pushed me to come to grips with myself and face it-- my mom is the source of my life and I've been hating her for more than 10 years. What a freaking waste, right? Aide from the fact that I've kept my condition from her because of her still withstanding mediocre approval of my being gay-- how else could she deal with my being positive?

How else?

She took it well.

She knows it now. And after more than 10 years of bitchy drama queening, I finally got my mom back. No, she was always there; I was just really being the bitchy sour ass drama queen.-- I never knew it'd go that way.

I'm really enjoying my life now. As in, really. I'm enjoying how people compliment my smile and the way I look at other people when they talk to me.

I had a really cute date a few days ago, he told me how animated my smile and my eyes were when I interacted with the waitress who was taking our order and at the same time giving suggestions.

"You're eyes are cute when you look at people. It's like your pouring sunshine and smiles on them. She just might think you're hitting on her." He said.

"Really? You think so? (I was thinking he was getting jealous but since the waitress is a biological woman...) We're out late at night, just two guys, here at Shakey's, Malate, she's taking our order and she has the gall to even think I'm hitting on her? Come on, she's got it just by looking at us that we're on a very gay ass date." I retorted.

He laughed slightly and smiled.

Later on the date, I admitted it to him about me being positive. Wow, telling a date about my darkest secret on day one: my tactlessness has put Kris Aquino to shame on 2nd place.

Surprisingly he was cool with it. Well, he was first when he talked to me about his enjoyment with recreational drugs and I was totally fine with it. Well, with him in his case, since it's his poison. Everybody has catches, as do I. So, why even bother feeling righteous on a date?

It was great... I'm doing stuff I never thought I could actually do. (Except that I'm not going to ride extreme roller coasters in this life time, even if it were to save the world, hell no.)

Anyway, my state of shock has already subsided and has just turned into gratitude towards Pope Benedict for his incredible announcement of tolerance for the condom, and even using a male prostitute as an example for his rationale. If any of you feel like thanking him personally for the eye popping announcement of condom tolerance just click this link: http://www.thankyoubenedict.com/ . You've got to hand it to him, the Catholic world is now going ape, but in a good way, I believe. I actually cried in the car hearing this, feeling just like those pretty ladies reaching the top 5 of the Miss Universe pageant.

And speaking of leading ladies, I also joined my very first Gay Pride and World AIDS Awareness March that happened just two days ago around Tomas Morato, Timog and Panay Avenue in Quezon City. It was a blast! There were evangelist groups who were blocking our way putting up placards that 'Being GAY is a sin' and I just went up to this cute seminarian boy, holding a gay bashing placard and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The poor bastard looked confused! I'm sure he's fantasizing about me now in his sleep. He looked like he had potential to be gay anyway; so it just took a kiss, I guess. Ha haha~

All this has happened weeks after taking that Landmark forum. I was so surprised I became an inspiration to a lot of people there. I never knew they'd be so understanding. I was hesitant to open up but I thought I might as well... at least I opened up eyes for 135 people... opened up their minds too.

Well, a really funny downside to my story so far is that I've had my very first try at the mega lotto; having dreams of going way lavish and fabulous with 750 million bucks! But I lost-- along with the 90 million other Filipinos.

But with 750 million pesos, what do I need from that? That amount just couldn't buy the feeling and freedom and flight I'm having in my life now.

I lost the Lotto and so what?

I'm a son to my mom again. I've got the real peace of mind that I thought was bad fiction. And my life is no longer a reaction to things around me. I'm living.

Lotto? Who cares~

Yippeee~

Still Glad You're Here

It's been more than a month since we split up.

I've been skeptic, initially, about the hand of friendship that you've extended to me. Skeptic, to the point that I'd be hesitant to leave you at the table because there's a voice at the back of my head telling me that you might tap some kind of poison into my drink.

Those are just my fears resounding.

I'm beyond them now, believe me.

I totally accept the hand of friendship you've given. I'm your first boyfriend and I believe it is a good thing to keep the camaraderie alive. You and I are good company, I'll hand it to you since you opened the possibilities first.

Yet then, here I am, in a struggle with myself; telling myself that your 'yeses' and your 'nos' simply mean 'yeses' and 'nos'.

Facts are facts and those are the real truths. Whatever meanings I give them are simply stories which I've learned to veer away from to prevent unnecessary drama between you and me: we're great friends now and I couldn't ask for more. Or could I?

Ever since we split, we have attained considerable maturity and growth in varying aspects of our lives apart. This was one thing that, I believed, was lacking while we were together.

Are we missing something? Oh yes, we never had a discussion about why it ended... But when will it be?

With all due respect to you, I await your call for a summit between you and me.

At the moment, I am quite happy that you've finally come out to your family about being gay. Family will always be there for you. In fact, you feel that way to me. Nobody's been as welcome as you to my family if we take it in the ex boyfriend context.

To be honest, I tell myself that if you ever find someone whom you feel makes your heart skip a beat again, I would make myself available to you for advice and evaluation. I tell myself that. I do.

But those things are the future. Right now all I have is the present and we're still, somehow, together.

Honestly, I want to be authentic with you about this: I'm glad you're still around. Very very glad.

And I hope this comes full circle... you deserve it.

Why Stay Down?

It's over. 9 months and it was good, I believe.

Nine months is enough time to have learned a lot from someone. Of course, it hurt. I cried. I ought to because I'm human. But as a human, I ought to move on too.

I had to get up. I'm going against time here. We all are, in general, it's just that in my context, I'm more awake about that than most.

No offense to my ex. In fact, I stand up and dust myself off as quick as I could to show him that he has made me such a better person that I can get up on my own no matter how hard the fall and no matter how frustrating the circumstance-- and I appreciate learning from him.

I say this with all due respect and our shared love in mind and heart.

Most would think that there are so many things in life to rant about.

That's because they see with their eyes immediately. But have they tried looking at things with their eyes closed? Or looking at things from another point of view? Or even thinking of the summation of it all?

There are just too many things in life to laugh and be happy about.

Am I sick? I mean, yeah I'm infected but sometimes, I wonder why I can get up so fast. Not easy but fast. And with that pondering, I just think of family and friends and my passions and realize that this life has so much to live for me.

If I stay down, I let them down.

So why stay down, right?

It's just not me, really.

I'm way too competitive to sit and take it.

Sue me.

Nephew

This is a dialogue between me and my nephew while we were chatting in facebook, earlier today, while he was at school in ADMU.

We are ten years of age apart, and hearing his quaint revelation (which I had it coming anyway, ever since) made me feel really good inside. It's that same feeling of warmth when someone opens up to you and makes you feel that you are most needed in this world.

This is where it escalated:

Me: So let's just say that person A's the one on the losing end while person B is the one you're very much into now, right?

Nephew: Yes. they're both sweet and the greatest friends I could ever ask for ... but person A ... I didnt feel anything... I mean when i make lambing .. there's nothing ... compared to my old one ... Jessie ... i didnt feel the connection, but with person B ... it's like the same level and i just feel happier.

Me: Ok, but A invested emotions, right?

Nephew: yeah, and i did too, it came naturally for a bit then it disappeared then i tried forcing myself to like person A ... but now its just an effort ... so i decided to stop while with person B ... it's just coming naturally.

Me: So what's person B like? Wait, are they both girls?

Nephew: They're both very very very sweet.

Me: So what do you guys do?

Nephew: ....?

Me: .....

Nephew: Ummm I've something to tell you... Can this be a secret? Like, can you keep it from my mum... Ok, just basically, keep it a secret... I'm Bi.

Me: Well, have you noticed or have had a feeling that I knew about you ever since?

N: Really?

M: Yes.

N: Is that why you were asking if both persons involved with me are girls? =))

M: You know the saying: 'takes one to know one'? Yes, I've been asking you those questions to make you feel comfortable about it.

N: Yeah.

M: Have you noticed I bring my boyfriend around in family gatherings? I do it for you kids so you could have an eye opener that these are normal things.

N: Yeah, but I just hope my mom doesn't find out yet.

M:Your mom and dad went up to me years ago asking about you.

N: Oh. Really? What? I mean... what did they ask?

M: If you were going the other way. Around nine years ago, your mom and dad bumped into me at the Shang mall and asked me to sit with them.

N: I was but ten years old then :|

M: And as we finished with the pleasantries, she asked me if you were going the way I was.

N: Hehe

M: And I asked her to ask your dad how he felt about you.

N: So what did dad say?

M: He felt like you do things that most straight guys wouldn't do. So I told your mum that that was answer enough. but the thing is... i never really confirmed with your mother if she'd accept it or not. I never declared it seriously that you would be.

N: Oh well, I still like girls. It's just that I like a guy more now.

M: From where you stand, I stood there too. I had girlfriends. But in the end, I realized I sought affinity with them because of the social norm brought upon my upbringing. My heart won in the end and asked for men.

N: Well yeah.

M: So is your boyfriend cute?

N: He is not my boyfriend. Well not yet anyway.

M: Too bad it wasn't him that you brought to the prom.

N: Hahahahaha~

M: Does he actually know what's going on between the two of you?

N: Yeah, we actually talked about it before.

M: What was it like?

N: First we agreed that it's nothing serious. That we're just gonna have fun with it cause he just broke up with his girlfriend .. well she broke up with him.

M: Hmm ok, go on...

N: Then I was there to comfort him and things happened. Then after that he asked me: "What are we?"

M: He told you he likes you?

N: Well... the 'thing' wouldn't have happened if he didn't like me.

M: You did it?

N: We did it.

M: So what did you tell him when he asked about you two.

N: I said it's nothing serious and we should just have fun so, like, for a while it was just that. But then I started falling and I forced myself to not like him. Because we agreed but then we talked again a few weeks after that

and, well, he said maybe we should stop what we had, because i might just end up getting hurt, because he isnt sure if he likes me; because i was there when he needed someone, or what. But he said that he likes me but he doesnt want me hurt... plus all the social criticism and all that blah

I listened to every bit of it... He sounds like me when I was 19. He was very anal (hahaha) about issues and thought of every angle possible. But in the end, this kid wants to have fun... and then he falls in love.

Listening to him felt like listening to me ten years ago.

Listening to him reminds me of how simple things made me happy.

Listening to him reminds me to remind him...

To wear a condom.

The Dancing Traffic Policewoman

Crossing one of the most nefarious detours in Metro Manila, where sidewalks are packed with informal settlers in a ridiculously similar way how hot dogs are vacuum packed, and you can see the junk just pressing itself on the plastic, I braved the Makati to San Juan route via Mandaluyong where a really ugly poster depicting how dangerous AIDS could be was hung for everyone to see.

The crowd, the poster, the gloomy, sobbing clouds and the rut I was in was enough. It felt like you just pulled that last sheet of toilet paper in a public restroom. It was horrible.

I knew that in a few days or within a week, my boyfriend would be breaking up with me. He will be. His texts and his behavior and our chemistry is going that way. It's logical economics and economics doesn't care what you feel-- it just happens.

I still keep itsy bitsy pieces of sweet memories that we had. The most recent was the moment he told me that I write much better than E from the Chronicles of E. I didn't really react much but it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

But those memories and the like are just an SRS bag for a bullet train collision. The thoughts keep going around in my head while I was driving, and it was almost about to send me to the loony bin until she came.

Yes.

There she was. At the last intersection that would end one of the most grotesque detours in Metro Manila: The Dancing Traffic Policewoman. She wasn't just dancing. She was grooving! she made moves that ended with vogues and poses that made her kneel on the punished asphalt of Shaw Blvd. I am not exaggerating. This woman danced with heart, body and the funkiest soul since Michael Jackson that people who were halted or goaded by her in traffic couldn't stop but slide down their vehicles' windows and smile, cheer, compliment and even applaud her. There were even bystanders from the deeper parts of the intersection who had to move closer to the sidewalks to catch a glimpse of her. She was being a legend!

The clouds were gloomy. The route was horrid. I felt like I was retching. and there was no silver lining on them clouds at all. None. But there was The Dancing Traffic Policewoman. She was my hero this afternoon.

She made me feel hope and made me think that no matter how ugly the road ahead of me may seem, and no matter how measly her salary could be or how base her lifestyle could get, she can live her life the way people would go out of their way to just find out who she was, what she could do and how she can make them remember her.

It did remind me too, that for a moment in time, my baby who's about to say bye-bye played the role of that Policewoman. He made me happy beyond any other guy I've ever had-- for a time.

But he's been complaining. And it's probably true, I can no longer emotionally handle his trust issues on me. I haven't admitted it to him at all because I'm being scared. Scared that he'd leave me. Scared that he'd saying hurtful things. Just scared.

But with this simple drive through what may seem to be an ordinary afternoon traffic jam reminded me of my selfishness.

My baby deserves to be happy. And it is just plain unfair if I keep him bound to something that no longer makes him happy. And I'm being unfair to myself if I don't confront my fears and just stay stagnant. If I don't learn from this, I might as well be that ugly picture of a person drenched with blood and with an AIDS sign wrapped around my eyes.

He wants to be happy, and if I really love him, I want him to be happy too.

This week will probably end with an ending and a beginning. There are valuable things to be learned. Special memories to be commemorated. Doors to close and windows to open. And finally, if he allows it, become his friend.

If he does find it amiable, then he'll be my first ex boyfriend to actually be a friend-- in exchange to the fact that I'm his first boyfriend. (That's too much to expect, eh?)

I cannot prolong this anymore.

I love him.

And much like the Dancing Traffic Policewoman, who gave me such a unique experience, that I saluted and smiled at when I passed through her as she gave the signal for my lane to go. I, too, must follow my baby's signal, say my piece that he deserves for the happiness he has given me, and let him make others happy the way he made me happy for seven blissful months of his company or just simply me being alone wondering about him and cherishing what we have in my thoughts.

My destination continues to come closer but people like him will always be remembered.

Always.

I love him.

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.

When I Confide

Today, I witnessed two types of people who technically threw their lives for the simple yet frustrating predicament of 'too much of something'.

One is the more common and easier to notice-- someone I am akin to, who happens to have been loved and spoiled too much, reaps the fruits of his sloth and complacency. Talented, yes. Sterling in his craft? Definitely-- but talented people are a dime a dozen nowadays. He has always been able to keep situations within his comfort zone, even at 30 years of age.

At 30, you should have accomplished enough to support yourself and probably have had enough experience to sharpen your wits to find a partner who supplements your lifestyle in the spirit of fairness and feasibility: this is if you have plowed enough to gather enough experience and common sense.

Sadly, he can't be a brat forever. None of us can be. Life's patience runs thins on those who procrastinate.

Last year, I confided my being positive to him, not only to make him aware that it has really touched home but because it should have been a signal for him to get up, get moving and make the most of his life while he still can.

This day, I confided, once more, to an old friend who technically threw his life away by taking substance in over dose to put himself to rest. Temporary rest, I hope-- he's well on the way to recovery now, but the reason for it was the contradiction of the latter: he was swallowed whole by frustration in his job.

The guy had a big heart and a vision for the medical field and politics has reared it's ugly head within the ranks, rendering his efforts moot and his morale as broken as the columns and pillars of the twin towers during the September 11 attack.

Attacks: it does seem like life assails us when we do awfully too much of something. Life assails us to remind us of who we really are and that everything is not for ours to attain.

To subtly put it, life wakes us up when we begin to lose ourselves.

It woke me up with the virus that slumbers within me and this is the same reason why I confide to some: because I would hope to spare them from learning things the hard way by heeding my experience.

Alas, all may hear but not all may listen.

As children, we were loved and, for a time, were the centerpiece of our parents' and family's love and devotion. They would listen to our every whim and attend to our every need, for as much as possible.

We can't be brats forever and time will come when it is our turn to listen just by stopping and reflecting upon ourselves.

With pain we grow, but we are still the determining factor on which direction we take.

So when I confide to someone, it is of utmost care and concern on my part because I am taking the risk of giving off my position that the other may grow stronger just by listening.

So for those who read this: if you are at the peak of health yet wonder if you are still who you hoped you could be someday: you've got your health, use it well.

And for those who abuse their health to chase after their dreams: the moon's rising reminds us that there is time to pause and rest and let go of things for the moment. Rome was not built in a day so incorporreal ideals may take time and patience as well.

And to all, who are you now? I pray you've not lost yourselves.

The Warmest Hiatus

I've not updated my blog for a while because I've been busy living my life.

Grand?

No.

Not at all.

I am living life by celebrating another miracle-- love.

He is negative and he knows about me yet he loves me totally, madly, endlessly, boundlessly, truly, vigorously, honestly and most of all lovely.

Miracles do not end there: I am his first ever relationship in any way.

Did any sign of doubt come?

Nope, not from me. I opened my arms and embraced the truth: I can still be loved by a normal human being who knows the truth about me.

I embraced it. I was open wide to a white out that is worth all the anguish and tears that flooded my heart. There is no more fear when I am with him. Even without him, knowing he loves me, there is no fear-- although I do miss him terribly and my body cringes in weakness for I am but the satellite spinning around him, drowning in his radiance that thawed away the cold walls that I built myself to defend.

I am not meant to defend myself from anything.

That is what his love dictates to me.

I am to live a life I have not lost at all.

He's probably reading this now, since he knows about this blog... and he told me this as a reaction to some of my blogs:

'Every time I read something you wrote, particularly those about love, why do I get the feeling that what we have fails in comparison to the excitement, joy and intensity brought to you by the other guys you before?

Was it because I made it to easy? By skipping the getting-to-know stage, did I turn our love story into a lifeless weekly newspaper column that nobody ever reads?

I don't know why I suddenly felt it. Maybe I'm just naiingit because you have not written anything about me, but it's my fault because I have not given you anything interesting to write about. XP

I love you XXXX. I miss you. I miss talking about life with you.'

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Blogs are records in cold binary data. Blogs are but a recording of something that can never be duplicated. And that is why I forgot to update: it's because I no longer need an outlet to store ammunition or coldness-- I'm out in the real world because of the miracle that this guy has taught me and that is love.

Who he is, what he has taught me and the life I live now are all miracles. Second chances that I know will be my last. Sad? Definitely not-- knowing now that life should be lived, why will I even think of any less than him?

I remember his tears falling onto my chest when he told me about thinking of the chance that the day would come that he'd be looking after me in my hospital bed. But still, it doesn't matter to him, because he loves me and he would be happy to spend his time with me in my living moments as well as my dying moments.

Selfish?

Who then?

I demand nothing from him, aside from our petty trivia. But when the day comes that he would demand of me?

I will not do it because the life I live now is influenced by his warmth. I will do it the same reason he does: because I love.

And so my absence will probably continue for a long time as I am grasping the moment not in binary data but in the warmth of his human hands and heart.

I am in love.

Excuse me.

And how can I type into my blog when both my hands are busy holding his?

Unexpected New Changes

As I write this blog, after a long stint of absence due to work and travelling, a family friend has just given birth-- her name is Chloe.

Just before her birth, other major catalysts of change happened, one of them was the leaving of a friend to a far away place wherein she can start a new life and, hopefully, acknowledge her errors and work on her character that she may truly grow.

This friend of mine is one of the people we could say that lost their way and, though loved by many, has done some actions that made conflict among friends and much suffering and emotional pain was garnered by all affected.

I, on my part, tried to do the rewards program of offering her something she would like every time she was able to refrain from taking drugs. There were times when I knew she did the drugs and would still have the gall to ask for rewards-- it made me resent her attitude, asking to myself why she'd even think I was born yesterday to believe her. With that little tilt of character, her principles have changed and all I could do was to sit and hope as the war grew longer and all sides were exhausted.

Life, mysteriously yet aptly, intervenes and quells the entire issue by making her leave to start anew in the USA.

The only thing I genuinely feel is gladness. Why not? It's a brand new beginning for her and I know, deep in her heart, like all of us, we all got tired too.

Aside from that mysterious boon in the sky that came in the form of a VISA and a plane ticket for my friend, another bona fide miracle has occurred in my life-- I am falling in love with someone who is negative and he, even though he knows i am positive, thank God, feels the same way.

Commemorating the pains that my last ex has wrought upon me: extorting my being positive to gain the upper hand in most situations was one of the worst things he's done aside from others, I really thought that I could only have a relationship with someone who is also positive: harder than finding the holy grail, indeed.

Like the change that I used to hope for that no longer expected at all, my friend leaving; another miracle comes in the form of a budding love from someone I would label as 'normal'.

Much like the fascinated Bella of Twilight to her undead vampire, Edward, this guy simply makes life much more worthwhile for someone like me, who sees life as a fleeting parade of grey areas. I rigorously enforced myself to be callous towards life. Wearing a mask painted with a smile, I was a cold alabaster manequine that saw the world as something to be calculated and measured with cunning and shrewdness.

My walls were not high enough for this lad's leap of faith just to see, and even be with, the fragile undead child that surrounded himself with shadows, roses and thorns.

He is a master. Unknowingly, he has disarmed all my conditionings to play it cool. He may not know this, but oh, he will when he reads this-- he is the greatest miracle that has happened so far in this new second life of mine. And though I know different miracles will still come in many other forms and things, I have thought and decided to myself that I would keep him for as long as my life could sustain.

Much like the ARVs that I am taking, with the adage that 'first is forever', since I am in a contract with mortality, making sure I must drink them every 12 hours from the time I drank it first, I am his first in almost everything we do.

Knowing this to be my second life, I have forgiven myself but will never forget my mistakes in the past.

With him, I will take those memories to heart and make sure he feels cherished. After all, memories are the only things I can take with me when I go ahead. Henceforth, the sweetest and happiest memories will involve him...

... for as long as my life can endure.

Well then, here goes...

Tipsy

They told me that getting drunk was bad for me.

Ok fine. I'm not drunk. I'm tipsy.

Tang ina. sarap. Shet.

The Oracle

It has been a while since I have returned to Baguio.

Being assigned to accomplish a task in the province by my mother, I was asked to travel on my own, once again, to a city to the far north of Metro Manila. A city where the scent of pines is forced to marry with the billowing clouds of automobile exhaust. A city I would frequent years ago due to the nature of my work; this city could actually stand on its own, without bothering if it would have been compared to the Philippines' NCR itself. It could just simply stand there and operate coldly like it's climate.

The chill was a fantastic yet familiar feeling to my once easily irritated skin.

My trips coming up to Baguio, prior knowing I was positive, saw me being easily growing fungus on my dermis. This trip I recently had saw no complications in my dermis at all. True enough, my immune system has gained ground and it shows beautifully.

Having dispatched the assignments that I was tasked to do, I met a new friend whom, in my sneaky way of leading the conversation about the issue of HIV in the Philippines, without letting them have a hint that I'm one of them, informed me that the virus has already rooted itself in the City of Pines and there have been 19 recently reported cases therein. These citizens of the cold city found out about it not in Baguio itself but at the beach zone that was kissing the mountain's feet: La Union.

Gathering the information, I concluded that the stigma, too, is imminent and that there are probably much more infected people that are not aware and are probably spreading the virus in a way that it would soon be as massive as the fog that sweeps Baguio's hills.

With the conversation being swept here and there afterwards, we touched down on the topic of vivid dreams and right there and then, I remembered one of my closest friend's heads up about someone who does more than just fortune telling. I thought of verbs or adjectives for it: scrying, clairvoyance, future sight but he told me that she presents the most precise possibilities in point blank verbs that are easiest to understand and if not, would be further clarified by discussion. Confidentiality, of course, was part of the bargain as it cost five hundred bukols.

And oh did a lump fall on my head because I remembered this at the last evening of my trip. I was glad the oracle (with all due respect, I'd call her that instead of a fortune teller) for believe she is more than just a mere fortune teller with the way she executes her craft. She responded aptly, probably in both our convenience. Was she THAT clairvoyant?

Initially meeting her, we were interrupted by her younger brother who turned out to be a former ally/nemesis in one of my on line gaming campaigns when we set a record in Philippine Online Gaming History nearly three years ago.

A small world indeed and quite smaller, in a cramped way, when she shut the door of her reading chamber once she began to perform her craft.

She spoke of me in a way I would never have admitted myself. She read through me and put me in insigna that I may finally put my finger on tangible verbs to the storms and rainbows that abound within my viral cytoplasm. Shortly put, she told of things I knew but was never able to say and acknowledge and therefore was never able to process.

She saw how anger was intricately woven into my system and that it has been the drive that keeps me fighting and has also been the culprit that makes me fall-- all these in a case to case basis. Change? Difficult, for it is me. A trait, a characteristic and possibly a large part of my persona that makes me who I am. surprisingly to most, it would not be evident at first for it is subdued by my (as she read) intellect and somehow it has always been my saving grace in drawing the line between me and an angry barbarian who's running after someone who stole his club.

An intriguing prologue, it was. Though, of course, I was after something: answers, definitely. I openly told her about my situation and one of my questions was pinned down at how long I have to live. The answer was ridiculous:

"You'll have lived way much more than you have expected, and probably have enough time to spare..."

A cure is coming perhaps? Or is it the fight in me that would keep me running the extra mile in joining the Energizer Bunny and it's endless drumming.

I was born free, baptized Roman Catholic without my consent (as if I could say no back then) and finally ended up agnostic at the age of reason. And thus, for guidance, I seek it from our Creator's creation, this woman; a product of our Creator. So you can't vex me on that.

Eager? Anxious? What am I feeling now for the things I've learned about myself with her guidance? More of eager. Eager because, ultimately, my anger or wrath will soon be slated with results that will exact not vengeance but justice.

Ri~ght. It wasn't vengeance that need be sought. It was justice. And it happens to come in the right time and place so long as I keep my end of the bargain which is suffer, work and drama for it. Sounds fair? Actually, surprisngly to me, yes. I've come to the point where I don't really need a one up or more on someone to make myself feel satisfied for the day. Just work it and I'll be working it.

Sigh.

I'm back in Manila now. I'll miss those 10 hour long sleeps that can actually have further 30 to 45 minute snoozes. These slumbers begin and end with the same and non moving position. If sleep is a blessing, sleep in the City of Pines (especially in my house there) is a bona fide miracle! And it's not gonna happen again to me till I get back up there. *GROAN*

I've gained further information about the virus and how it has affected Baguio. I've gained new friends, including the oracle. And ultimately, a blessing in disguise, I'm spiritually and clairvoyantly assured.

Anger going away? Nope, not at all. I wouldn't be stubbornly getting well if not for that drive. Even if she called it a double edged sword, I'd rather have that than nothing.

Should I be expecting something? Oh, not at all. Expectation is the road to ruin, therefore, what I'm going to do is put all of what I've heard at the back of my head, continue what I'm doing and if anything simliar to what I've learned happens, then... I've to see her again.

PRONTO.

For How Long?

238.

That was my very first CD4 count when I found out I was positive.

How could it have been that low when my body was as strong as a horse? Though I recall having minor itches but that's all.

Like it's said about HIV, the virus feeds on your CD4 cells, therefore weakening your immune system. At 238, I was 39 points away to becoming a person with AIDS.

I couldn't ask back then because the shock was already too much. It made me go out to the quadrangle of RITM, look up to the sky and wait for an answer to pop out of the clouds. I was helpless. No sound logic could make me cope at all during those moments.

I just simply had shut up and breathe till I calmed down, back then, because more than 6 months ago, the jargons and terms used by people who have it and the people who deal with them were barely assimilated into my vocabulary.

I calmed down because of what they said: "Don't worry, it's time you took the ARV."

ARV. Anti retro viral drugs. It's not a total cure, but in a nut shell, it works like an anti biotic which you have to take on time, religiously, if you want to keep the viral load in your body down and your CD4 cells to go up. The problem here is, anti biotics kill the virus that makes you sick, ARV cannot penetrate through to your marrow to kill the dormant viri so all it could do is kill the ones that are prancing around like faeiries on Jaeger bombs in your blood, hence it's not a total cure. If you fail to be consistent with the ARV, the virus will develop an immunity to the drug and you will have to go try another cocktail combination again.

Think it's easy adjusting to a very toxic drug?

The trial periods for ARV combinations are not easy; there are chances wherein you could get fevers, burning sensations, rashes and other complications that I didn't want to hear about. I got hit with the fever and I almost passed out in a mall during that time. My sweat was cold, I was clammy all over, it felt like the animus was leaving my body and it was getting dark and grey at the blurry sides of my vision.

Hard enough?

I couldn't take paracetamol anymore. There are medicines that normal people take that you can no longer take when you are on ARV. At that point, I was told by the doctor that I should take fluids, rest, fruits, vitamins and PRAYERS.

Wow, prayers. Indeed, that was hell. But the operating word is now 'was'.

The period's long over now with my body fully adjusted to the Lamivudine/Zidovudine and Nevirapine combination (my ARV cocktail). My CD4 count has risen to 380 and my immune system is up again. The itches on my skin are gone and I just have to continue taking my meds on time as if it were a legally signed contract with the Grim Reaper.

But why 238 righ away? How come so low?

They estimated that I would have had it 4 to 5 years already being that my CD4 count was already that low.

4 to 5 years? That means... How many did I infect without me knowing?

I recall within those 4 to 5 years, my wild side would've made Steve-O and the cast of MTV's Wild Boys and Jack Ass look like a bunch of Carmelite Nuns.

No doubt about it, I could have infected someone already. So what do I do? I didn't mean it back then. Really.

Right now, what I'm focusing on is fortifying myself from within and working my way outward. Seriously, theatrics aside, this is just me. I'm not the hottest piece of gay meat in Metro Manila (but I'm not the ugliest for sure!) so it made me think (as the competitive sports enhusiast that I am): someone out there could be planting more than I am without them knowing it.

They could just be out there screwing someone silly and planting doom. Jeez, why the sudden sprite of concern going on?

Closing my eyes before I wrote this, I thought to myself: that middle aged man from Ayala Heights wasn't joking-- we are destroying ourselves without us knowing it. And true enough or possibly, knock on wood, even worse, mysterious deaths will come sweeping the country within 5 to 10 years.

I think he was pertaining to those who have it, are spreading it around, and won't check at all and will only find out when it's too late. The pattern could be the same with those whom they have infected. It'll just be like a domino of a grand necrological scale.

And cmon, you don't have to be hot or cute to get laid. You just need to be horny! It's that simple! Just turn out the lights and you can let your dreams and fantasies get of!

Speaking of dreams, I've dreamt of this, I think my dreams had somethign to do with this. I can't really put it vividly here because some of my friends know my dreams as I've shared it with them because I have had dreams that are so vivid and I actually remember them still. It just involved a lot of people dying around me.

All this thinking plus the multiplication table that they have in figures about infectoids infecting others and so on and so forth. We're talking auto genocide like they said.

5 years: that's how long I've had it at most.

5 years: that's how long it'll take for those who do not know to die.

So for how long?

How long before the entire country realizes that it's really here in front of our faces? And by realizing, how long before they accept? And by accepting, how long will it take before they act upon it?

Healing myself, I sit here in front of the screen, with but pieces of a bleak future for a lot of people, in my head.

I am lucky that I know and I am able to buy myself time with this drug.

What about the others who don't know?

For how long?

First Thing's First!!!

An emotional review and a reminder of direction.

A few days ago I was reminded by a very close confidant of the fall that happened more than five years ago.

This fall resulted into making me a total oposite of who I was back then.

It began when our eyes met June 10, 2004 at NUVO Greenbelt 2. I was wearing a red shirt, 3/4 pants and Addidas sneakers while he was wearing his black collared shirt, slacks and leather shoes. From that point on, I can still remember every detail at the back of my head and masochistically savor every nightmare it gave me after he broke up with me months after.

I did things that I was shocked to do because I knew I'd never do them. I did it for him. For us. I would give him the world and more. For us.

But that's what I thought.

Fast forward 2 years after, it was a long battle within. It was epic as I thought I had given a ghostly close to it 2 years after but then it came that reality would intervene once more to reveal that his decision to leave me was not just because he couldn't go on with the distance, it was someone else and it was all summing up into the flames in my eyes as we were on a car chase in Roxas boulevard. A car chase that meant 'STOP!' when all that my already dying heart screamed 'GO!'

I remembered vividly. Like a dying animal being skinned for commerce, I lay there defeated, with my eyes open to see and remember my predators, and promising myself that the world I wanted to give him was less than the amount my heart needed for it to be whole once more.

Something about me didn't let me close my eyes. It made me stare and look at every detail that brought me the pain. Even the person who introduced the new guy to him is a target in my thoughts: someday, I'm going to drive something blunt and jagged, drenched in my own venomous blood, down his chest and let him feel a tiny fraction of the pain that has taken a life of its own in me. I see this person, still old, desperate, honeysuckled for his money and his drugs and incredibly still facially challenged. He'll die soon, and it'd be an utter disappointment if not by my hand.

All these are but tiny droplets of a cosmic molotov cocktail that is carefully sealed and saved for some special individuals. But as for now, I am recovering very well . Where my wrath knows no bounds, my body does not. I have incurred the virus as prize for dragging down countless hopefuls to the level of being bitter and jaded simply because the world was not enough for my pain.

Like I have pondered earlier, this virus is a double edged blade which I can use to protect and destroy. In the new chapter of my life, I have already thought of a lighter side wherein I will find those who need help and somehow give them the courage to face the truth and live with the virus-- to experience, first hand, the glory of survival. That's not far from now. However I've unfinished business. I have to give in return, to him and to those who are deserving, a slice of the abyssal endeavor that has reminded me of the necessity of wrath and the alternative use for fire. Him, five years ago and that God damned old faggot bastard who introduced the other.

And now, I stand somewhat on the road to recovery and I am reminded by a friend's dramatic, syrup laden slag of a heart ache and another friend's amusing plight into a choking tunnel of love, that's gotten him all wishy washy; these remind me of the principal root of all this Hell fire. Him. Them. They will all pay.

But while I'm fessing up for the creme de la creme a la coup de grace: kudos as my CD 4 count has gone up by 142 points from a scary 238 to a luscious 380! I'll have to put on this sweet little venetian mask that says: "I'm a peaceful little sheep of Little Bo Peep and I couldn't even hurt a fly if I try~".

I lo~ve working inconspicuously. It's so double o sevenly sexy!!!

*giggle*

Calling me deranged?

It's a hobby.

And the good news?

I'm recovering.

And the better news?

I'm going to deliver.

And the best news?

Soon!

*giggle even more*

*SNAPS FOR EVERYONE* (except for those two dog shit pricks)~

Ryan and The Lesson

Nearly 4 months ago, there was a guy I met online who had a brilliant mind and could easily communicate with me by just simply being himself with me. There came a point that we were getting somewhere just by conversation and somehow, he started phasing in and out like a phantom.

Months have passed, I've met new people in my new life and each one is somehow intrinsically unique in any which way I try to look at it.

While I was getting on with my life and learning to slowly digest people for the person that they are, the person mentioned above, Ryan, glides in again with a "How are you?" over text. He knows about me, somehow it just came naturally that I thought he should know, but that wasn't even before he started phasing out randomly.

The conversation came to a point where I slightly chided at his intellect, that even such a brilliant mind can be subdued by fear of knowing something one cannot fathom. He replied with a simple answer that should have been one of my speculations from the start:

"That's true... the truth is, guilt is also fear. I have a boyfriend, already... I had him even before we met... and I couldn't tell you."

No anger nor negative feeling of the like tapped me at all. I felt warm. I texted him and told him in a very meek way that I knew from the very start that he could never be perfect and that somehow he makes mistakes too. Though his personality was strong and was the type to loathe error, I could just simply sense the seeping guilt he had whenever we spoke.

Why? Why bother knowing. I'm just glad I met him and that's that.

For every person I've met so far, I didn't tell any of them. Just less than a handfull. But I enjoyed sitting back and knowing them for who they really are. Not rushing into anything and being less reckless wtih the ideas of infatuation.

I had to do this. Initially, it was torture. It wasn't my mode of operation but somehow, with dedicated curiosity and the thirst for changes, I saw that it felt very new.

I learned to appreciate them for the person that they are. I saw their strengths and their weaknesses. How they struggle with their obstacles and how they bask in joy with their simple pleasures. I became temperemental with how I reacted with their every deed. I just simply enoyed myself knowing them for who they are. Most of them new people, some of them, I decided to take with me from my old life into my new one. I felt that some were still applicable in my new chapters.

Time well spent. It was time well spent knowing them. Slow indeed, not the penchant of young and blood-boiling youths for their style is to rush into it for experience.

I stood there watching them get hurt, happy, funny, dramatic, lousy, heroic, martyr like, cunning, dastardly, altruistic, loud, solemn and every other possible adjective. I saw them and their humanity and I can still relate.

For this I am glad. I am even more thankful that there are times I could be there for them to cry on my shoulder. Even if I am single and I harbor something that others cannot understand, I knew there and then that I was needed and I could help.

I've already thought to myself that love and romance will come. It would be selfish and stalemate if I continued to think of it and hope of it's arrival.

Learning all this, and not being able to update in such a long time, I could just compare the thoughts I had before. I've finally found peace within myself. Real peace.

It's not over at all. Surely, obstacles will come and I will be tried time and again. But for sure, there is one sentiment that will be present when such trials come:

Gladness.

*Snaps for Everyone*

Move

Summing it all up, I've probably spent too much time and effort assisting my mother in her ventures. I was the only one who could say yes and do it. I was the only one who was probably brought up to say yes and do it. And currently, I am the only one who says yes, does it and doesn't really mind if it hits the fan.

Fact, yes. Complaint, no.

Why complain if it's a wake up call screaming at me? I've probably done enough that it has spoiled her rotten to make her work sloppy. I spoiled my own mother. I don't want that. Not speaking antagonistically, it's just that it's not good anymore. Too much isn't good.

I'm done thinking. It's time to move.

My sister's leaving for San Francisco this August and with that, I'll probably have less holding me back from doing what I must and doing what I want.

I want a life that is mine.

And it's about to begin, with but a thought, I've already created.

A very special friend of mine told me earlier that I should stop being so nice. I guess he didn't mean it the way I read it over my mobile, via SMS. Right, I was so nice that I was aching to help clean other peoples' back yards forgetting about mine in the equation.

I'm not being selfish here, but I've a gut feeling this isn't how it's supposed to work. My mother had parents too. She had to elope with my dad to get a life of her own. Maybe her parents had their tentacles everywhere that it choked like virgin ass. For a time, she probably hated their guts and for the moment she's somewhat exactly like them. Ironies of ironies, eh?

I will do this. But why? Ok, there has to be an answer. Why will I do this? For myself? Yes, probably but that's not the entire answer to it. I have to become better and stronger I guess. I've to do this because I do not have enough power and influence to make the changes I want as of yet, so I guess I'll start moving slowly but surely, with this goal in mind.

I wanna make changes. For myself because this is going to hit others. This is going to wake fatso, downstairs, in his room, up in a way that he's going to really want to wake up and do things. This is going to make mom realize that nobody should be, be it your kids or your employees, expendable and it is a terrible mistake to run away from your errors and let others fix it for you.

To that friend of mine who texted that sagaciously received SMS, I know he'll be the first one reading this now.

I see him as a towering inferno searing with passion for what he does and he is not the type to let things easy on anyone when he does his craft. No, actually that's what others and most would probably see him. To me, he is one of those few good men left on earth who know the very essence of honor and respect, though he may not be the type to admit it. He likes acting tough. It's peculiar. And I respect that.

Ah, why respect? He knows the truth about me. He dubs this virus in me 'the shrimp'. Watta Tempura, huh? He is the first in his premise to know it and amazingly embrace it. Though he noted that he has always been looking for a friend like me.

I called myself one of the 'forsaken'. He believes me to be one of the 'chosen'.

With mere words anyone of us can create something.

This is the true fibre of 'God created man in His/Her own image and likeness.'-- He created us. We create things.

'Chosen'.

I choose to move. I've done too much and it has got them nowhere because they're supposed to do something too.

Easy? No, honestly, no. Everytime I feel the toll racing down my spine, I know I'll be closing my eyes and asking for help within. And I know I won't be closing my eyes just once or twice about this.

I must do this. I must move.

*Snaps for Everyone*

Another Survival

Why did it take so long for me to update again?

Well, see here, I've mentioned about being the middle child and coming from a broken home. In this broken home set up, we have already reached the pre empty nest stage wherein we, the kids, should be taking off, however, the broken home per se as one of the factors, our eldest brother has a combination of the failure to launch syndrome and the Prince of Wales syndrome. If my mother made a miscalculation by treating me like crap, she made a bigger miscalculation by treating our eldest first born as a buddha. Thus the buoyant, bouncy and corpulent shape with the matching sluggish and sloth like lifestyle married with the illusions of grandeur that everything is as feasible as a fairytale (especially if he cries and dramatizes)-- mama would simply melt and give him his candy. Awww (fuck it.)

It gets on our mom's nerves but hey, she spoiled him before and she never will stop spoiling him. I told her that, but noooo-- like the complex equation above just said: she treats me like crap.

And yes she does and it shows as a warrant of arrest with my name on it was presented by a policeman outside our house nearly two weeks ago. I'm not at fault, but let's just say since my signature is on a check for a business of ours and my mother, bright and devious as she is in balancing and upping the ante to her favor, with me expendable of course, deffered payment to a supplying company.

It's not her name. It's mine. So yeah, she'd probably do a gung ho accounting stunt since it wasn't her goose that was gonna get cooked. I had to run and hide at my dad's subdivision in Laguna where the long arm of the law won't be able to reach my poor waning CD4 cells, who were just dying to find out that I was being charged by the Republic of the Philippines.

Surprised, I was solid that day it happened. I just kept quiet and smug about everything. Hey, she treats me like shit anyway, so what's new? It's just a degree higher (or should I say lower?). Am I this numb already? My younger sister was definitely pissed, probably because she saw everything from neutral ground, seeing that I'm doing what I can too help out with the businessess, as our Happy Buddha of an older brother stays happy as the buddha he is, chomping on the pie in the sky that's his girlfriend, who, by the way, will probably never make it to my christmas Card list or anyone in our family's at all for quite sometime.

We can spot a user a mile away, Fatso! Use your head!

Well, after hiding, I posted bail with the help of my mum's attorney. Well at least she thought of HELPING the dirt beneath her feet.

Thank goodness I'm still alive, OK, and amazingly not questioning why these are happening. Honestly, I don't wanna mind them too much. It's not good for me. I'm focusing on my closer friends who I play sports with regularly.

Some of them know, some of them don't, but they're real people. They're not the Ladida Society that go out clubbing and acting so nuveau and pleasing people, who don't care about the new stuff that they bought, or the expensive adventures and latest drugs that they shoved up their noses. Nope, they ain't that. They're people I can talk to when I'm feeling odd and they really listen and help out. They won't stab you on the back because they're not the Gossip Girl type shit that everyone's trying to be nowadays.

All this angst and I'm still ok and smiling coz I know that with the company I'm keeping, the sun is shining on this side of Manila for me.

It helps me survive. It's just that as life will always continue to pour the sweetness and the bitterness and all other kinds of bruhaha, as I have passion for my friends, their problems also affect me and just today a bitter ordeal has struck one of my close friends.

A break up. A gay break up. Usually, for most, they're as common as the jeepneys that add a silvery shade of bull shit to our Metro traffic, gay relationships come and go fast, hard and you wouldn't even know it happened if you don't update regularly.

Here's the sad part: in our team, we all love both of them. Of course, both probably made a mistake, but one had to cheat, and it was the younger one (as usual). They're age gap's kinda big, so I wasn't surprised, it's a technical you-ought-to-know, but it's still different when it really happens to people close to you. This is the part I really don't like: I don't mind if I'm the one getting rained on, but if it's someone I care about, it really affects me (eg Michael Jackson, I cried for him already, he will always be the King of Pop and media treated him worse than how my mum treated me, so I'm really sorry for it, MJ. We love you).

I survived. I'm gonna get through this. We're in this together. It's not game over for me. It won't be game over for you. There's tomorrow. Life goes on. Love goes on. Everything changes and movesin fidgets or leaps and bounds. Everything.

This is supposed to really bother me, but it's not anymore. Maybe because the worst has happened. Or maybe I'm as numb as the corns on my feet. Hah!

Survival. It's a jungle everywhere nowadays.

*Snaps for Everyone*