Manila Girl

I am leaving Baguio.

These are the four words that I have dreamed of speaking ever since I tasted independence.

Every night, after I got the job at a company based in Makati, I have though about that sentence.

Over and over again.

This is it. I am finally leaving Baguio City.

I have lived my entire life in the Summer Capital of the Philippines. Except for the four years I spent in Pangasinan during college, I breathed in pine-scented air every morning. I cuddled my beloved pillow and stayed under the sheets to brave the cold climate. I have spent countless hours just staring out my bedroom window, gazing into the mountains covered in fog. I enjoyed my life in Baguio, but it has become boring - like Megan Mullaly's talk show.

It became stale a couple of years ago, but yet I decided to stay because I was not yet ready.

A friend once told me that I had great potential, and that going to Manila would make me a better individual.

It took me almost a decade to finally realize that I have to get out of my comfort zone and expand my horizon.

Manila, the capital of the Philippines, is a business, fashion, and social hub. I have been in Manila, of course, staying there for days, trying to blend in, trying to learn the culture. I know, when I leave for Manila, I will be missing everything here in Baguio.

I will miss my friends.

I will miss my bed.

I will miss the cold days and even colder nights.

But hey, a girl has got to do what a girl has got to do, right?

By the time I create the next blog entry, I hopefully would already be in Manila. I can't wait to start another chapter in my life.

Manila, here I come!

Got (Harvey) Milk?

Milk, a film about Supervisor Harvey Milk, a gay rights activist in the 1970's, has inspired thousands of gay men and women in the United States of America, and the entire world. He has shown that being gay is, in fact, not an illness, but a choice.

I have, in many ways, struggled with my choice of being an all out homosexual. A lot of people still do not understand that my choice of lifestyle does not, in anyway, hinder my way of living. I still breathe the same air that everyone breathes in. I still eat when hungry and drink when I am thirsty. I love with the same passion a straight man feels with a straight woman. The only difference is, I decided - a long time ago- to love other men.

After watching the film about the life of Supervisor Milk, I was inspired to make a difference in the world, starting with myself. When I started making friends, I made sure that they knew exactly who I was. No ifs, no buts. No pretensions. But now I realize that is not enough to make friends. What needs to be done is to make sure that they understand why I act this way, why I am who I am right now. 39 years ago, gay men aroun the world were struggling to get accepted in the society that they are living in. Today, here, in the Patriarchal Society of the Philippines, more and more people start to accept the fact that the gay community is not just a bunch of hairdressers making people pretty. We are doctors, nurses, teachers, writers, editors and engineers.

We are an entirely different race - still human but possessing extraordinary talents and skills to match those who have, in many ways, discriminated our existence.

I never had any regrets about who I was, and with that self acceptance, I managed to preserve who I really am, and my sense of dignity.

This is for Harvey Milk, and the people who have strived so hard to let us live that way that we are right now.

This is for the people who have accepted the fact they we, just like them, have lives that we continue to live.

This is for the gay men, and women, who still believes that someday, we can have the freedom to be who we want to be.

All we need is to be united, and to remember that we are who we are.

No ifs, no buts, no pretensions.

Back to the Old Drawing Board

News spread like wild fire.

If there is one thing I love, it would be that people are actually talking about me. And as an office mate once said - good or bad, rumors are good publicity.

What I hate about rumors, though, is that they are open to interpretation. Not like facts, which should be said as it is, rumors tend to change as it passes from one ear to another.

A couple of days ago, I had to write a very short, to the point, and rather hurried letter, a letter that I have been itching to give to my manager. It was my resignation letter, in a short bond paper. To my horror, I was not even given the chance to actually type the letter down and print it. I had to go. My name was at stake.

I know not a lot of people read my blog, but I'd rather still keep mum about the real reason for the resignation. So let me just put it this way. I'd rather have a graceful exit than to actually have something against my well-preserved name.

Anyway, people started talking about me. Text messages where sent to everyone, saying that I left the company in such a startling way. What better way to start a wild fire, but to strike when it's hot and leave without a trace...

So I left the company I have been working for for more than 2 years. I have been bored, but stressed, this past months, that I have been aching to leave the company for greener pastures.

Maybe I was already at the edge of the cliff, and all I needed was a push. The person who pushed me, though, pushed too hard. Now I ain't at the spot where I intended to be. Here I am, 26 years old, gay, broke and single. I am not complaining. I actually love the fact that for this very moment, I am finally free of the shackles that I willingly wore when I started working for that company. I just felt it get tighter, and tighter. My hands need to be free.

Maybe it is the World Recession everyone is talking about. They lose a job, they blame the recession. They break a heel, they blame the recession. They put on some weight, they still blame the recession. It is just very convenient to say that everything bad happening around the world is caused by the f*cking recession. So maybe I should get into the bandwagon and blame it to the world's financial crisis. But no, I'd rather put it this way - I lost my job because sometimes, though we are given the chance to be stupid sometimes, we abuse that privilege.

I have never, and will never regret anything I have done. Not now, not ever. To the people that I have worked with for the longest time - thank you for making me a part of life.

Oh well, it's back to the old drawing board.

Acute Gastroentiritis and Coffee

And so I was sick for 2 days, and that period of time I was glad I did not have to go to work. In a way, it was a way for me to miss working. And I did, I missed working.

What I love about getting time off work is the chance to do stuff that I would not be able to do during work week. What I hate about time off due to sickness is I cannot do anything, I have no social life, and I am bed ridden.

I went to the doctor yesterday and she told me that I had Acute Gastroentiritis.

"So do you drink soda?" she asked.
"I do."
"Cut down." She advised. "How about tea?"
"Only when coffee is not available."
"I suggest you cut down on tea. And if possible do not drink coffee anymore."

I was stunned. Coffee is my life - specially since I am working in a call center and I would definitely fall asleep if I do not drink any coffee at all.

I drink coffee all the time. I can even drink 5 mugs of coffee in one sitting.

Everytime I meet someone up, I suggested meeting over cups of coffee.

I love Starbucks, got a love-hate-relationship with Seattle's Best, and thank God for 1 peso coffee from the Coffee Vendo Machine in the office.

I nodded my head and asked for medical certificate for my condition.

That was yesterday.

I still can't get over the fact that I can't drink coffee anymore. So I did. I've had 3 mugs so far.

Bad, noh?

Suffocation

The bar was packed. As much as I wanted to dance on the dance floor, the people near the entrance did not allow me to do so.

I wanted to just dance, to forget about my life even for just a couple of minutes - ease the pain from my heart and transfer that pain to some more physical, like my tired feet.

Van said she wanted to to dance, but we did got the chance to. Nick tried prying me off the chair I was sitting on, but as much as I wanted to dance with him, I did not want to push myself into the already full dance floor.

The smoke machine blew white smoke into the air, adding suffocation to the already dark and warm room. Why can't they build a bigger bar? I wonder.

I drank thirstily, beer spilling into my tight black shirt. I didn't care what I'd look like.

I just want to forget. I feel suffocated. I need air.