Realization: Loathing one's self

"How about shaving your eyebrows?"

Looking at myself in the mirror, I kinda noticed that my eyebrows starts at a thick bush of hair on the middle and gradually dissipating into a barren field. Although it doesn't count as an imperrfection, and not that I am in the habit of looking for imperfection, I have often wondered if I will look better if the eyebrows would take some form. Something more organized than chaotic.

I realized that I am beginning to hate myself by being more aware of the things that I have and don't have. I try to alter what I think will not flatter my features, or the things that I find... uhmm let say hideous. So I end up loathing myself because of such imperfections are with me.

In someway, I hate that I don't find myself handsome. I hate that my skin is not flawless. I hate that I have major issues when it comes to the shape of my body. But these things are superficial. They can always disappear when the time comes that I get fed up with them and decide to do something about them. I can always seek professional help. So I guess, what I am trying to point out is that, it is ok to hate one's self as long as you move on and try to do something about the things that you hate.

I know, I am not making sense at all. (the next line will probably be the catalyst that will destroy the whole point I just made) To me, I feel pretty. But I am aware that there are things that I need to work on.

Keeping Myself Busy

What have I gotten myself into?

Although I know that there is no turning back, I keep on wondering if I would regret any of the things that keep my days occupied. To give you a little background:

1. Programming. I am currently under the supervision of three well-versed programmers. Yes, a different language that is. I mean, common... I took up Mass Communications for goodness sake! WTF am I doing to my brain racking it up with codes and tyring to analyze and visualize all at the same time. Well, it isn't so bad since I am enjoying it.

2. Master of Arts in Communication Management. Uhh-hh... Yeah... Do you think I need it. Hell, I am beginning to think that I am on my way to an asylum. I decided to push for it because I had a crush on a guy who happen to study nursing at Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila. Yeah, at first I thought it was the shallowest reason but then again that's another thing to keep me away from boredom.

3. Depressing myself over being single. When the hell did I stop? I think, I should be placed in a psychiatric ward the day that I stop being depressed.

Seriously, I am fine. I could still use another hobby. Thinking of... hmmm, Tennis!

Darn Dreams

I need to get laid.

Dreams about sex are recurring. I don't like it when I dream about sex. I end up depressed.

Pi-Em, on a Blank Paper.

My idea of friendship is a blank sheet of paper. You are free to write on it. Nobody can tell you what to write or stop you from erasing what you have written.

Pi-em, a very dear friend, has abandoned me not just once. Abandoned might be to harsh a word. I could say that it was a hiatus from friendship. I remember back in college, she wanted more freedom to do the things she wanted, like smoking, or getting drunk, things that I wouldn't do nor will Mitchie (my bestfriend, and Piem adored the time the three of us met) so she hopped from one group to another only to find that she will fall back to our arms. She was shunned by our classmates for her apparent indifference for scholastic endeavors. Nobody really liked to be with her when it comes to schoold projects because she never really contributed much and if she did, it wouldn't have amount to anything. She wasn't dumb. She was just lazy.

When we finished college, I kept my ties with Pi-Em. I was there everytime she needed someone. In events that she needed an ear to listen to her primal screams, I lended mine. She needed me and I was always there.

I might sound that I am crazy over Pi-Em but the truth is I just needed to be there. She needed some sort of a Pillar to lean on. She is a tired soul from all the beating that this world is giving her.

Somehow, I have always expected Pi-Em to do the same for me but she never did. Although I am in the habit of calling her whenever I need someone to listen, I have always hoped that in some cosmic and weird way, she'll feel my pain and dial my number. She never did. Every time that she listens to my primal screams, my rantings and ravings about how crooked the whole world seems to be, and through the rollercoster of my emotions, all that I can hear is the buzz coming from the flourescent light in my room. She listens alright, but she doesn't hear what I have to say. She is always more concerned about what's on the boob tube.

But I still love her.

Now, she seems to be happy with her life. Her life, currently, does not include my presence. Not even the idea of me, unless she needs my help. With her Boyfriend being there to listen to her whine, I find myself being washed away into being a distant recollection.

In times as such, I end up re-evaluating my idea of friendship. Friends are for keeps no matter how distant they seem to be. I wonder if Pi-Em still misses me, or if she ever did. Oh well, I'll try to talk to her tomorrow and think of diabolic schemes on how I could meet with her again.

Guy Trouble: The Trainor

When will you stop bugging me.

It's obvious that everytime you ask me if I missed you, I am disarmed. I do not understand why you have such power over me. I must admit that I enjoy the attention, but that is just it. I don't give a shit about you.

I have always asked myself I do like you, and as much as I can not give any reason why i would, I also cant give any to prove that I don't. But I'd rather live with out you. I am fine just as I am. Without you at my sight.

I still don't know why you disarm me.

Here in My Corner

The problem with me is that I do not believe in something.

It isn't really so bad. I open to anything provided that it comes with a firm justification.

In my 24 years of living, I have never had anything that will pass for a life altering moment. It is apparent in my penchant for starting every paragraph with sometimes. I do not seem to have anything that I firmly believe in. I do not have anything constant in my life that I have to justify everything with the word, sometimes. I am not sure of anything that I have to assess everything by the fleeting moments and flashing instances of significance in my life. Nothing big has happened.

Or am I looking at it the other way?

Just this morning, I watched two movies both tackling racial discrimination. As I imbibe each lesson contained within the horrors of each scene, something struck me. I realized that if ever that I would be in such situations, I would probably just walk away, as if I couldn't give shit, until I get my head blown into pieces. I do not care at all.

Have I been apathetic to such cruelty? Have I been desensitized because violence, racial discrimition and oppression is a fact of life and that I have to live with it? These questions have been bothering me.

I get scared. I wimp out. I run away, like anyone else. Never have I braved anything in my life and I am starting to hate myself for it. I do not have anything to stand for. I do not have anything that holds significance in my life. You would probably tell me that you have your family whom you hold dear to your heart. But family is a given variable in one's life and it is indicated in our nature that we should care for them and nurture as it has nurtured us. How about philosophy? Principles? A motto? This government? My country? How about myself? How about sexuality and preference? How about equal rights?

As I approach the end of this entry, I realize that I do believe in one thing. Truth. I should always fight for what I know is the truth. But then again, truth is subjective. I might end up fighting for the wrong cause.

Now, beaten by my own self, I end in one corner waiting for something significant to happen.

Fredda

I miss Fredda.

My friend, Fredda, and I kept our communication through correspondence back when e-mail wasn't existent. Up to now, I keep all her letters and read through them. They still entertain me as much as the first time i opened them.

It has been years since I last saw her. We are never really faithful when it comes to communicating through text or e-mail. She doesn't even bother to call me whenever she's here in Manila. I know I am supposed to hate her for that, and I definetly deserve to throw a hissy fit on her for being so distant; But whenever, i hear her voice, I get so excited because I miss her so much, then I forget that I am supposed to be mad.

I feel...

I hate sounding like I am desperate for some attention. It is starting to overwhelm me again. I never thought that being free is so confining.

So-called Standards

Am I anyone's league?

In finding someone to love you back, I have always believe that the first step is to define your target market.

So there I am jotting down my standards, I define it by age: 30-40; by intelligence: Extremely stupid or fairly intelligent to a super genius; by physique: Medium built, sporty and toned; and by looks: uhhh who cares.

But everytime I try to match these to a specific market, and by market I mean... homosexuals and all its facets, I am confronted by the biggest question: Am I looking at a different direction?

Yes! That's exactly what I am having a problem with. Where in the world will I find my so-called Market? What ocean should I cross or mountain should I climb to find it? Other than finding it, I still have the problem of tapping it.

As I grow old and impatient, I find it harder to believe that someone is out there. I am seemingly convinced that my life will be lived alone.

Let us go back to myself. Who am I? Or I guess the proper question is, what the hell am I?

I can't really classify myself in any of the facets of homosexuality, because believe me... for a gay guy, I seem to be a lesbian sometime. And I will definitely not resort to the classic excuse that I am bisexual. Kick my ass, if you hear me whining...

Anyway, this brings me back to the question. Am I anyone's league?

I think I should put a period at this part and just go on with my life. If, by any chance, I happen to find a strange part of this planet where the likes of me lurk, I will then end this chapter of my life and begin the part where I am confronted with options. Hmmmm, i am looking forward to it.

On James

Suddenly, I find myself drowning in an pit of depression.

Yes, I am starting to turn this blog in to a cheesy paperback novel but I guess that's just how I see my life. One big lump of cheesy Mills and Boons.

The more that I realize that I don't know James, the more that I fall for him.

Once again, I am defeated by the illogical part of my brain. It functions solely by deeming itself to futile ideas.

James is someone I haven't met. He was introduced to me by a friend. At start, I wasn't really interested because I was not at the habit of searching for anyone. We have been in constant communication through MSN Messenger and through the same medium, we knew each other well. Somehow, as days passed by, the constant chatting was turned into something deeper.

Things changed. It wasn't what it was before. All after a phone call.

Although at start, It was I who was nonchalantly dealing with the situation. I didn't give much attention to his signs until it was all gone. I guess I didn't really like the fact that he left me without knowing the other facts that I have.

But all is fair, I didn't know much about him either. Or is it?

Sometimes, I ponder at the situation. Is it my turn to coax him? Is it my turn to try and make him fall for me? He is such a nice person, I end up thinking about him more and more. And the more I think about him, the more I realize that I don't know him which makes him more interesting.

I wonder if he would like flowers. I like flowers. Wouldn't they be a lovely gift for a lonely heart?

Reminiscence: Young Perry

My youngest brother, Perry, and I are becoming closer.

I guess I have never seen him before the way I see him now. Back when we were younger, he was a constant cause for annoyance, more of a bundle of burden than joy, and a task to tend to.

He's 17.

One time, back when he was 11, I accidentally read his assignments as I was cleaning up our room. It was an essay about their greatest dream. As I read every line of written on a crumpled paper, i started to cry. Written was:

"Gusto kong maging matalino tulad ng mga kuya ko"("I want to be intelligent like my brothers)

There was a whole paragraph on how much he look up to us. I dont remember if Yanyan, 3 years younger that I, have read Perry's essay, but I know that if he did, he would have cried. As I read further, my heart throbs for the innocent dream that my brother has. I never really thought that he has placed us on a Pedestal on such an early stage of our relationship as brothers. It dawned on me that I am playing a significant role to his young mind.

Now, as we have grown, I know that eventually we would part our ways. But time nor distance would not separate our hearts. As he venture to new endeavors, he is confident that when he looks back, we will be there.