Just when you thought you got me all figured out...




I can’t help but relate to Carrie’s post regarding office bullies and working in a not-so-friendly corporate environment.

Had I known of blogging then, it would have been the perfect outlet for my rants, torments and aggravations. But since only now that I can actually release my angst thru written words, allow me to indulge in the benefits of expressing my [negative] thoughts in this post. As I think about it, now is the best time to unleash these demons inside. If I had written about it then, this post could’ve been nothing but unmentionables and four-letter words.

Being bullied, stepped on and made fun of is not really an unfamiliar territory for me – I’m gay, you see? Filipinos are known homophobics, so I was kinda expecting same scenario entering the corporate world, and somehow prepared myself for it.

First two companies I worked with were fine, but the third one surpassed even my highest expectations. I finally understood what discrimination is when I met these creatures.

I really thought that theirs is a gay-friendly company, since one of the senior staff is openly gay. I have nothing against them but he is a parlorista, screaming faggot type. It would be an understatement to say that we have nothing in common, as far as being gay is concerned. This, my new officemates find hard to believe and they even question what my real preference is. I did not bother to explain that I’m not really loud and as much as I want to it’s just not me. I just shrugged their side comments off by giving them WYSIWYG answers – they branded me as a hypocrite.

I couldn’t care less if they think so. Besides, I have the company of my cute guy officemates around. They’re my buddies at lunch, cigarette breaks and we constantly spends our leisure office time throwing jokes and being cozy with each other. I’m just ‘one of the boys’ for them, even though I’m gay. But to my insecure female officemates,who could only dream to receive glances from the guys, I’m the flirt, slut, bitch and whore. They wouldn’t even think twice calling me these names [at least jokingly], it would have been fine if they call me these in English but they refer to me using the vernacular.

I could live being branded as a hypocrite or slut or what-have-you. But the real deal manifests when I was somehow promoted and some of the authority were delegated to me. Most of them did not take this news too eagerly.

After my so-called promotion, issues came out one after the other. They say that I am my boss’ pet, that I’m a butt-kissing bitch spying on everyone, that my boss is too lenient towards me for her own good and all those pathetic things they could think of. It even came to a point that they had made an issue out of my so-called extended cigarette breaks, at a general meeting at that. I could only laugh in disbelief!

I thought that they way to deal with these earthlings is to ignore them and be oblivious. It would be later on that I would realize that one should speak up and defend himself when he needs to…

to be continued...


What's in a Name?

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For less than a week, I changed my display name from complicated dude to mhärlon. I wanted to see my name everytime I post comments to my blogfriends’ posts [except those powered by HaloScan]. Just recently, I decided to stick with the former. I explain later.

I could’ve used my real name, MARLON, as my display name but ever since, I found it too ordinary and boring with nothing exciting or different about it. That’s the very reason why the H after the M [MHARLON] on my gmail, hotmail and yahoo email addresses and the name I used on my blogfriends’ tag boards. I even use it as a nickname everytime I fill up those application forms of various companies I’m applying with. Who else do you know who has a nickname that has more characters than their real name, huh?

When I was a kid, I asked my mother what’s with the name and why she chose Marlon to name her firstborn. I’m not sure whether she’s just joking or she can’t think of any reason and told me she name me after Hollywood actor, Marlon Brando. I didn’t confirm [or at least tried to] if there’s a grain of truth to it. That’s because she usually says that at the first semester of her pregnancy, she had this obsession to local actor, Rudy Fernandez and thought of naming me after him. Good thing she did not. I would not even accept it as my nickname had she tried. I mean, if she had wanted to have my nickname as Rudy, my real name could have been worse – Rodolfo (?)! Or worst, Rudolph, which would be an overkill had things turned our quite differently.

Now, why COMPLICATED DUDE? I was thinking of a cool name to use as my MSN Messenger name and why not? Its cool, isn’t it?

COMPLICATED, I got from Avril Lavigne’s break out single. I was thinking of a word that will reflect or say about what I am and what I am feeling at the time. Fresh from my first break up, I am both happy and sad, out-there but conscious, sensitive but indifferent, laughing out loud but crying inside, pathetic but proud! My mood swings then was like that of a pregnant woman. The word says it all.

While DUDE, is my former officemates’ term of endearment for each other. Can’t imagine calling your gay friend, dude? Well, at first, it was only the counter-strike addicts/guy officemates who are using it, but after they introduced it to me and three of my closest girl friends/officemates, they’ve been referring dude to us since. Everytime we play counter-strike, you’ll usually hear us shouting:

“Dude, under the bridge!”
“Inside the tunnel, dude!”
“Dude, double door!”
“Below the grass, dude!”
“Dude, hanging bridge!”


All referring to either where the enemies are or the team’s destination.

“Crouch, dude!” which is a defensive positioning and gives the players better aim at shooting the other team members.

“Dude, they’re using cheats!”

It became natural for us calling each other dude, that even while eating, smoking, drinking or just plain chatting, there’s always a ‘dude’ at the beginning or end of each sentence uttered. What makes it even more special is that it only clicked in that company. I even tried calling my new officemates that but it doesn’t quite fit and seemed forced. It doesn’t feel natural at all. I guess they’re the best bunch of officemates I [will ever] have that I think we reserve the word only for each other. Only them call me dude.

When I started blogging, I decided to use COMPLICATED DUDE not that I am still complicated, or am I still? I don’t really know why it appeals to me that much. Probably, I am still complicated. But I’m not complaining, even if I am complicated, dude!



Tops and Bottoms, and FAQs

I still have second thoughts and contemplating on continuing my "Queer Eye of a Gay Blogger posts since I left a sensitive [I think] issue the last time. To refresh those who had chanced upon reading it, I stated that the next gay topic would be our [us gays] preference/role during romp time – being TOP or BOTTOM.

I really had a hard time choosing the words and jargons that I will be using. I want the post to be presented in a subtle yet informative approach without crossing over that [thin] line between [gay] sex education and sleazy gay erotica.

In a matter-of-factly manner, being a top or bottom refers to the role of gay couples during consensual intercourse. Bottoms take the role of the woman and tops, the role of man, as correlated to the straight or heterosexual way of making love. Tops do the pumping and penetration while bottoms are the receiver at the backdoor entry. Though bottoms can also do the pumping and humping, same with woman-on-top position for heteros, still, the most common position used among gay couples is the missionary. It ranked only second to the popular belief that gays like to do it canine style. There are gays, who are even comfortable taking either role, they are the VERSATILES.

So there!

**********


By the way, here are the most commonly asked questions about me being gay. Some are quite stupid and some does make sense. I am usually asked these questions by officemates, newly acquired friends and potential partners:

  1. Do you have a boyfriend?
  2. Are you circumcised?
  3. What’s your nick/pseudo name come night time? Marla?
  4. If you are stuck alone with a gorgeous sexy lady, say in a deserted island, what will you do?
  5. Do you have gay relatives?
  6. Do you plan to have kids [my own] if ever?
  7. What does your father say about is [me being gay]?
  8. How to give the best ‘head’ ever?
  9. Have you ever been attracted to girls?
  10. Do you wear girls’ or women’s clothes?
  11. Do you apply make up?
  12. Top or Bottom?


The Calm and the Restless

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You fall in love with a cyberfriend/textmate. But before the actual eyeball, you had that conversation over the phone. For some bizarre reason, your text mate realized that you’re not his type. He dumped you instantly. News flash! He wouldn’t want to meet you anymore.

You laid all your cards down for crying out loud. You go out and made an online confession on the cyber group’s message board where you both belong. You think that it will lesson the burden of your broken heart, but instead, you feel confused and stuck as ever.

You need someone to talk to, someone who understand and who can enlighten you of this dilemma. Your best friend comes to mind, but since he’s the most jaded and unromantic person you know, all you got were bitter, harsh, unsympathetic and angst-ridden views on what your best friend says ‘that four-letter word’ called love.

I’m pertaining to my best friend, Paulo, and who else is that ‘most jaded and unromantic’ person but me. I had to bring along my girl best friend, Cecille, to somehow pacify Paulo and ‘sympathize’ with him, which I had no intentions of doing whatsoever. We’re old enough to think for ourselves, right?

Don’t get me wrong, I really feel for my best friend but these things happen for reasons God only knows. And for us to decipher what these reasons are [or might be] is such a waste of time and energy. I may sound so cynical about all these but I do believe that in this game [gamble] called love, the rule is – outsmart, out-cheat, out-manipulate, outlast!

While Cecille, my ever romantic, mushy and in love best friend has an entirely different views altogether. "Love makes the world go round", so she says. She’s a fighter for love and will do anything, even if it hurts her, to keep her man – and their love for each other. If worse comes to worst, you’ll hear her saying these quite optimistic cliché – “It’s really not meant to be.”

Its good to see/hear both sides of the spectrum - the pros and cons; the downsides as well as the lighter sides of life. This is what Paulo told me after our talk. He didn’t get an outright solution but our [opposing] views had somehow enlightened some of his questions left unanswered. He’s way better going home than we first saw him that day.

Love(?).

Life(!).

Lovelife(Whatever!)

Postscript: Before we parted ways, Paulo received an SMS from his cyberfriend who wants to meet him, that made him quite ecstatic. But he says he's not too eager on meeting him after what happened.


Weekend All Nighters

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Just when I thought those drinking vigils were over - partying, drinking and having a good time that lasts ‘til the wee hours of the morning - is quite an appealing temptation for me to resist.

For two consecutive days, these drinking sessions had me clocking in at home way too late and just in time for breakfast.

I had a very exhausting Friday. I had a job interview, meet up with a long lost friend, Ray, did some groceries, commute all the way to Valenzuela to attend my best friend’s Mom’s birthday, and commute the route back. What probably exhausts me that day was that in between all these is that I did a lot of walking. Yes, I walk, walk, and walk ‘til my legs ache. I had to walk from Enterprise Tower to Greenbelt to meet my friend, had to walk my way to the MRT and still, had to walk with my friend from Landmark to Glorietta to SM Makati to do his groceries. I asked Ray to go with me to my best friend’s place. He agreed to go with me but insisted we go as early as possible but that is not to happen. We had a grand time at my best friend’s place we lost track of time.

He almost curst me going home for he wanted to be home before midnight. Too bad we had a girl companion we had to drop off all the way to Greenwoods Pasig. Needless to say, he celebrated the first minutes of his birthday inside the cab.

So as for him not to feel sad and for me not to feel too guilty, I decided to go with him on his way home and prepare my apologies if ever his guardians asked for explanations. It’s a relief coz everything seemed normal when we arrived and nothing was heard. It also turned out some of our friends were already at their place supposedly to give him a surprise, advance party. They ended up surprised to see us together going home very, very late.

We decided to have some drinks and played some cards while just hanging out and catching up and updating each other. It lasted for a good three hours and we decided to pack up by around 5:00 AM, Saturday.

Saturday is the big night, for Ray that is. Drinks and fettuccini flowed, well wishes been given, stories and laughter were exchanged. Everybody were drunk [except me I managed to get away by claiming I’m not used to drinking whisky], loud and just having a great time altogether. The party was over by 3:00 but some of us decided to continue the drinking spree at another venue. Again, we decided to call it a night [or a day] by 5:00 in the morning, Sunday.

Sunday, I arrived home by 6:00, finished breakfast by 7:30, slept at around 8:00 and woke up 8:00 in the evening. But twelve hours seemed not enough for the two all-nighters I just pulled off. I dozed off again by 10:30 wishing I didn’t have to wake up and go to work!



See my days are cold without you, but I'm hurtin while I'm with you
And though my heart can't take no more, I keep on running back to you
See my days are cold without you, But I'm hurtin while I'm with you
And though my heart can't take no more, I keep on running back to you

Baby I don't know why ya treatin me so bad
You said you love me, no one above me, and I was all you had
And though my heart is eating for ya, I can't stop crying
I don't know how I allow you to treat me this way and still I stay

Baby I don't know why ya wanna do me wrong
See when I'm home, I'm all alone and you are always gone
And boy, you know I really love you, I can't deny
I can't see how you could bring me to so many tears
after all these years

Oohhhhh
I trusted you, I trusted you
So sad, so sad what love will make you do
All the things that we accept
Be the things that we regret
Too all of my ladies (ladies)
Feel me c'mon sing wit me
See, when I get the strength to leave
You always tell me that you need me
And I'm weak cause I believe you
And I'm mad because I love you
So I stop and think that maybe
You can learn to appreciate me
Then it all remains the same that
You ain't never gonna change
(never gonna change, never gonna change)

Baby why you hurt me leave me and desert me
Boy I gave you all my heart and all you do is tear it up
Looking out my window knowing that I should go
Even when I pack my bags
This something always hold me back


It’s really funny how we feel quite identified with a song. Uncanny it may sometimes seems, but these songs were as if narrating the story of our lives.

When me and my bestfriend were hanging out at Gloria Jeans Galleria last Friday, the song “Foolish” by Ashanti is being played at adjacent Oody’s. The moment I recognized the song, I can’t help but to hum and sing along with it. I was practically transported back in time and the song brought back [painful] memories. This song says it all. Memories. Emotions I had that time. What I wanted the relationship to be but it didn’t.

The only time I snapped out of Oblivionville is when my friend deliberately gesticulated her hand in front of me. I tried with much effort to listen to her but the song [and its memories] is too powerful for me to ignore. I had to beg her to allow me to finish the song first.

When she asked me what’s that all about, I told her that that was my break up song with this person. Back to those days when the memory of him is still fresh, I can’t help but cry [silently] and think how foolish I am to succumb to his every wish, just because I love him.

But listening to it now makes me reminisce the past without hurting. Though I can’t honestly say that I’m totally over him, this song still brings back bittersweet memories, of the love that has gone, and lost.


One Too Many

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When it rains, it really pours!

There was a time when I was actively pursuing and looking for a new company to work with. Jobstreet, JobsDB, the bulletin, and all sources of job openings there is – I had tried each and every one. Even though I’m not technically qualified, I will still pass/email my resume thinking that they may somehow find that move a brave one indeed and such deserves a chance, little as it may. But no one ever responded, just when I was really into it.

Was I disappointed? A bit. But never had I questioned my abilities and undermine my qualifications just because these companies turned me down. I consoled myself that most probably; it’s not the right time for me, to be working in another company. Not yet.

I slowed down. I just email those that really fits my qualifications to a T. I did not entertain those that I think I am overqualified. Then, when I was least expecting it, replies and inquiries from companies came pouring in.

I just had an interview this Monday. And I was supposed to be in another interview today, but decided against it. I just told them that I wouldn’t be available for an interview only after this week. I already consumed a half – day leave and I’m not planning to use the other half. Just today, I received a call asking to come for, yes, another interview tomorrow. I just told them the same thing and for them to postpone for another interview schedule. The truth is I’m running out of reasonable reasons why I take those sick leaves. If only I can say that:

“I’ll be having a job interview today and I can’t report to a company which I am sick and tired of working with.”

Oops, Did I just say that?



I always have mixed feelings come Wednesdays, with regards going to work and actually spending eight hours or more in the office. Mondays and Tuesdays are definitely the most boring, longest days of a five-day workweek. Thursdays and Fridays are the most anticipated days for it spells the end of a weeklong agony called work.

Third day of the week is the most atypical; for it is neither the day to look forward to nor the day you wish wouldn’t come. This day is like a half – filled glass of water, it depends on the person looking how he perceive it; half – full or half – empty. I’m still undecided come Wednesdays whether it is:


  • Only two days to go before Friday; or

  • Still two days to go before Friday.


It’s not like that I actually hate this day, or I’m quite anxious for it to come either. Oftentimes during Wednesdays, I wished that its already weekend but there’s still or only two days to go before I could finally say I had a long or a short week. This doesn’t make sense, does it? Can’t I just work and make myself productive at work and not worry about the days of the days ahead or had gone? I guess I should, for there’s still one good thing to look forward to everyday, Wednesdays or not – end of shift.


Smooth Operator

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The departmental meeting is going on just fine. You’re way ahead of a deadline and everything seems to falling into their right places. Your boss is finally talking about her staff’s salary increments and promotion. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Mr. Know-it-All and Ms. Kissbutt officemates open their mouths.

You suddenly found yourself on the hot seat. They commented on how you spend hours talking on the phone to your friends, how your cigarette and coffee breaks take away company minutes longer than necessary, how come you can leave by 6:01 and not render overtime, and how you’re responsibilities sometimes become the bottleneck of your whole departments operation. They ended their speech with a “We’re not saying that what you’re doing is not OK but we just want this department to be the best there is.”

You had to stop yourself from laughing out loud. You summoned all the saints and guardian angels just to stop you from succumbing to the temptation of divulging right in front of everybody how Mr. Know-it-All is calling personal clients half the day and how Ms. Kissbutt goody two shoes officemate spends hours on the washroom fixing herself and applying make-up to her immaculate, and pale as a whiteboard face.

Don’t even think of stooping down to these filthy earthlings’ pathetic level. You can certainly do better than that. There’s another way of getting even, and this time with style. Let go of your mean streak. Presenting…

Top ten ways to show your officemates/colleagues you hate them without telling them.

  1. Forward your funniest and coolest emails to everyone except them.
  2. Bombard their inboxes with chain emails.
  3. Give their local to your friends and let them pose as prank callers.
  4. Transfer calls of irate customers to their locals.
  5. Do not reply to their queries through email and had these mails deleted immediately.
  6. Smirk at their funniest jokes and laugh as hard as you can to their corniest ones.
  7. Always have that blank face and monotonous, ho-hum voice when you have no choice but to talk to them.
  8. Celebrate your birthday in advance or have it delayed and treat everybody when they’re on leave.
  9. Put down the phone or close your drawers harder than usual or make unnecessary banging noises, as if by accident, when they’re in near proximity.
  10. Be extra nice to them when you need them for something and they’re the only ones who can help you.

A word of caution: DISCREETNESS. The best way of execution of the list is to exercise utmost care and subtlety combined with your most cunning instincts. Do these as innocently as possible. You must be the only one who should know about this. Don’t even try telling a soul, and use this fact to your advantage. Get even and have fun!


Blah Blah Blogs

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...On life’s ups and downs, triumphs and failures, of moving on and looking back, and everything else in between.

  • I’m quite bent on moving to another company. My professional career seems to be on a standstill and I can’t seem to find ways for career advancement at my present employer. It’s not a question of not having room for improvement but of a personal detachment to all the negativities going on at the present. I try hard to be oblivious of the fact but it certainly doesn’t drive away the current ordeal I’m in. A former colleague once said: “If you’re that damn good, leave. If otherwise, try at least to be at par before you go.” I honestly believe that I am not an expendable employee and that I can jump into a greener pasture anytime I want. I just don’t want this job-hopping syndrome to became my habit and try at least to spend an ample time in one company. Aside from not having to work my ass off during the probationary period, I have yet to experience getting a full vacation leave credits, 13th month pay and bonus (hopefully) come year end. I just hope that this will be enough reason for me to stay for the meantime and postpone those applications and job interviews by January next year.
  • The last decent [and full-pledged] shag I had was almost a month ago, with Jim. I’m not sure if this is something to celebrate or whatever because I really have very active hormones. I’m not on a sexual abstinence or celibacy [far from it] because I managed to somehow release those hormonal heats every chance I get – but mostly of quickies and plain encounters. The next best thing to doing the nasty in the bedroom, taking the shower together ending up at round two and anticipating the dreaded morning after. But without a serious boyfriend, partner, significant other or a fuck buddy at least, I guess I have to settle with these momentary pleasures for now.
  • I got colds. And it really sucks! I was sneezing the all day at the office for the last three days and having a Donald Duck-on-helium voice is definitely not something you’d wish to have. As if adding insult to injury, I ran out of tissue and forgot to buy a roll. I filed a leave half the day and decided to take some rest.
  • Someone told me to stop smoking for a while because of colds. Not a bad idea, but an impossible one nonetheless. I really wanted to for health reasons, I just can’t.
  • Was able to watch the primetime news yesterday and I find this showbiz news snippet really funny. A local male bold starlet, member of a second-rate, trying hard Chippendales copycat, cried foul when he apparently did not receive the ‘agreed’ amount promised for all the stripping [all the way, he claims] he did for their promotional video shoot. When asked if he’s doing it as a publicity stunt, he retorted: “I am not doing this for publicity, sawang – sawa na nga ako sa publicity eh.” As if! I religiously watch The Buzz every Sunday and I can’t seem to remember a single issue/publicity about him. I can’t even recall what his screen name is. I guess I have to buy that video just to find out. Hmmnn…
  • A dear friend way back college days, Leslie, is getting married on September 4th. And she assigned [forced] me to call and inform everybody [our college core group/barkada] about this. Its not hard telling everyone, its hard to convince everyone to actually set aside their time for a friend’s most memorable moment. Some friends! Do I have to force them into going when it’s a silent rule of friendship for being there through ups and downs? I don’t have a very good convincing power. Personally, I follow this belief: If you do, well and good. If you don’t, good riddance! But since it’s the bride-to-be special requests, I’m working on it. Yes, I’m working on it. Really working on it. Convinced already?



My Best Sexual Skill

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Everybody loves music. Probably the only time one would hate music is when they are reminded of something unpleasant or things or persons they would rather forget. Music has become an integral part of everybody’s life that we often associate our feelings, thoughts and experiences to a particular song that somehow reflects what we feel, think and go through.

There are those that are gifted musically, either a golden voice for singing or inclination or superior ability to play musical instruments. Some even have both.

I am just a music lover. “Just” because I am not blessed with any of the musical gifts I mentioned above. All my life, I contented myself to just appreciate the joys that music brings to a listener like me. Until… I decided to do something about it.

I am not taking voice lessons, if that’s what you think. I know early on that I don’t and won’t have a golden voice. Come to think of it, I don’t even have a decent singing voice. And our bathroom has always been the unwilling, silent victim to my vocal torture.

I own a guitar, which has been with me for the past three years. You might probably say that I am the only one you knew who owns a guitar but don’t know how to play it. Because of time constraints and ever-changing interests I wasn’t able to learn anything. Recently, I decided it’s high time for me to at least learn how to play it instead of it sitting in one corner and is nothing but a wallflower. I even bought a beginners’ guide to guitar enthusiasts so that it won’t be that difficult.

Learning to play the guitar is easier said than done, most especially for my case. Reading the book, I was a little disappointed to have encountered such technical words like staccato, glissando, dominant seventh, diminished seventh, augmented fifth and so on. A beginners guide to guitar enthusiasts? Yeah right! I almost gave up and told myself to stop such non-sense when it crossed my mind that guitar gods Hendrix and Santana, string masters Frusciante, Gallagher brothers, Corgan, Iha and Wretsky, Lennon and McCartney, all had started the same way. I really wanted to learn so I guess I have to start somewhere.

Reading the book, just reading, might be a good starting point. I applied my ‘read first, then analyze and apply later’ technique this time. This was the methodology I used reviewing for the CPA board and I guess may produce the same result.

Reading and analyzing is easy, but actual application of what you just read is an entirely different thing. The most difficult part of the learning process is memorizing the ever-complicated chords, most especially those chords that has full bars, where in your index fingers is pressed down on all the strings and your other fingers is stretched out to its fullest extent to the other frets. Strumming, learning guitar strokes and plucking is not that difficult to learn but memorizing a hundred chords with millions of finger positioning is such a tedious thing that really requires a LOT of patience and determination. It is REALLY HARD, I am telling you. Even harder than passing the CPA board.

My only consolation if this current ‘fling’ turned out to be other than a success is that my sisters are all showing a genuine interest in learning how to also play the guitar. One of them is even way ahead of me with regards to chords already memorized and has the knack for shifting one chord to another. I guess learning how to play it is really a gift. But I really, really wanted to learn. It’s just that the difficulty of it makes me think other wise. I just hoped that my fickle-mindedness would not manifest and my infamous short attention span wouldn’t be that short this time.


Ode to My Papa

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Papa would have been fifty-five today hadn’t asthma got the better of him. It was the first day of August seven years ago when he joined our dearly departed friends and family and wasn’t able to see the light of his 48th birthday. On a could-have-been special day, we are grieving instead of celebrating the occasion. At the prime of his life, father has left us for good, leaving behind a legacy not of material riches but of intangibles like love, disposition, honor and principles. Our family had to contend ourselves with fond memories of a fatherly love forever.

Things had never been the same since. Though life indeed goes on for us, the recovery and moving on process is sometimes a painful reality of life to deal [and still dealing] with to this day. We’re living a normal [fatherless] lives as much as we can, but at times like these, we can’t help but to imagine what life would have been had things turned out quite differently and Papa is still around.

There’s no one to greet on Father’s Day. No one to rally behind us in our endeavors and to support us in facing the hardships and travails of the life we’re living. No one will defend us against our aggressors and oppressors. No one will ever do those little things only fathers can do, fixing the TV antennae or a leaky faucet, no one to fix the broken chairs and furniture, all those dirty stuff. This list could go on as we lead our lives moving forward. Who would walk my sisters down the aisle when they finally decided to settle down? I guess it would have to be me instead.

I might be wallowing in self-pity and on the fact that I really, had not settle this matter by myself. Maybe. Maybe not. I just missed my father and just wanted this blog to be an outlet of my frustrations and my yearnings of a father’s love.

They say that you only realize the value of someone when they’re gone. I am guilty of this. And if this is a mortal sin, so be it. The world can condemn me for that and I will surely take it all in without retaliation. I am a good-for-nothing son who realized the value of his father only after he’s gone. I deserved all these. I did love him, but time had prevented us to show more love to each another.

To all of you who might be in the same situation, I know you feel the same way, one way or the other. It’s a comfort knowing I’m not the only one.

All to all those who still have their fathers physically, please, please, please. Love your father. He might be the worst father in the world but one thing will certainly not change. He IS your father, the ONLY one you’ll ever have.


Blinking Quiz

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This is a sort of tribute to one of the movers of Punk Rock regeneration of our age. They broke through the mainstream music charts with their energetic, upbeat rock anthems ‘What’s My Age Again’ and ‘All the Small Things’ together with equally funny videos to match.

Though Tom, Mark and Travis music has evolved from purely punk rock to what it is right now, their music have touched the anger, frustrations, and the sexual side of our youth. After a short hiatus (when Tom and Travis formed their own band ‘Boxed Car Racer’), the triumvirate are back, once again to punk-rock our world!

Blink this quiz: "which of the guys from blink182 are you most like?"

you are mark
you are really goofy and funny, and are loyal to your significant other and friends. mark rocks, so u must rock too. :)



"Those who speak up, gets admiration. Those who listen, gets knowledge. Those who bark, gets none"



There's a pervert in all of us. Let's unleash our naughtiest, wildest and kinkiest side by taking these tests.

I must say that I am quite 'satisfied' (?) with the result of the first quiz but the second one? I don't think so. I may be a voyeur but definitely not an exhibitionist. Or probably, my exhibitionist side took over when I answered that one, huh?

Take the quiz: "What Kind of Pervert are You?"

The Unknown Pervert
The Unknown Pervert: You are The Unknown Pervert, you are bound to hide your past and intentions, as the partner may find you very mysterious in so many ways. The ability to make yourself invisible to those around you, but not literally. You are similar to that of The Depressed Pervert, you may tend to give up before it's too soon and you being alone drives the person to wanting to understand you more, although you feel that they shouldn't or probably wouldn't. Your intentions are only mysterious, they have no idea what you are really like, being The Unknown Pervert you might question yourself on why you participate in such intimate acts.

Another tittilating quiz for you!: "What Is Your Kink?"

Exhibitionism
The world is your stage, and everyone in it is your audience, whether they like it or not. Your favorite place to have sex is the pitcher's mound of a ball stadium, under the arena lights. You are extremely loud when having sex. You don't mind people watching, taking pictures or videotaping you no matter what you're doing. Your motto is It's all about ME!



What would you think if a girl says these words pertaining to his guy?

“I may not be able to equal what he’s giving me.”

A hypothetical question emailed to me by my good friend, Mervin. I dialed his number and ask him what was that all about. Turned out that he is the guy being referred to. I started giving him some generalized tips over the phone when I assume, or rather sensed, that he needs a person to talk to about this predicament. I volunteered to be a listening ear since I’m quite free at the time. Over our conversation, I was able to cite some decent advice, which are way better than those non – sense blah blah over our phone chitchat.

On my way home, I realized that most of my friends actually do come to me asking advice or suggestions about love, life, work, relationships etc. Its not that it’s a bother or anything, I’m actually flattered when someone is opening him/herself out before me. Knowing that a person somehow trusts you and what you’re to say really makes one’s heart swell with pride. One of my friend’s testimonial [atfriendster] actually says that I am to go-to person when he needs advice. I just realized how true it is until now.

As I am analyzing myself in that “Ate Charo”, “Dr. Love” persona, I surmised the following probable reasons why I can be a qualified adviser/counselor.

1. I listen – I’m always amazed to what others have to say especially stories about love, life, heartaches and failures. As I’ve said, its flattering to know that person/s trust/s you with their innermost thoughts and aspirations. I absorb each story and try to visualize myself in their shoes.
2. I am uncommitted – you might think how come I go preaching around giving advices about heart problems when I don’t even have my own love life to speak about. True, that I am or haven’t been in the same situation but giving advice from a single person’s vantage point has that unbiased and unclouded feel to it. I maybe wrong but I [just] assumed that when you’re asking someone who has the same dilemma as yours, chances are you’ll end up consoling [and fooling] each other.
3. Your quintessential Mr. Play-it-Safe Guy – I give my views to every side and aspect of the situation or problem. In that sense, I am not really giving advice but merely letting the person see those things he might have overlooked because he’s blinded by his emotions like love, anger and frustrations. I always stressed to those who asks me for advice that THEY still have the last say on THEIR personal issues.
4. To each his own – I’m not proclaiming myself to be the best nor I would like to be regarded as the worst adviser there is. I’m pretty much aware that though some of my tips/views/perception of things are options to consider but nothing has a guarantee. Life is so complicated for all of us to figure out what’s in store in the future. Some will work while others will backfire right in our faces. That’s life!

Also, one thing I am sure of is that I’m the LOUSIEST adviser when I’m in love. So, don’t go asking for some advice when I have that dreaded heart – shaped eyes and that zoning out, ‘earth to Marlon’ smile because chances are, you won’t be getting anything but love shit.


Adversity of Mr. Marlboro

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I am quite bothered lately that Robinson’s Galleria is slowly becoming a non – smoking place.

Yesterday as I was strolling at Galleria with my bestfriend Cecille, the mall’s security personnel had told us off, at least twice, that smoking is no longer allowed. We just shrugged those reminders off since there was a WHOLE LOT doing just the same. And it’s not as much fun hanging out at the mall when all you do is to dodge being apprehended just because you are puffing a cigarette or two.

I had been a smoker almost half my life that I really resent this so – called policy or “Republic Act so – so, Clean Air Act” bullshit.

I know that “Smoking is Dangerous to My Health” and all those two – liners about the hazards of smoking i.e. “smokers don’t grow old, coz they die young”, etc. I am aware of the consequences, thank you!. I had accepted the fact that my life expectancy is diminishing by the second, proportionate to the number of sticks I consume. But what the heck! Isn’t it MY lungs and MY heart that are at risk? Forgive me for being a self-righteous bitch but I would surely live MY life the way I wanted to, whether it be suicidal or for my own betterment.

And what about the passive smokers who constantly forced to inhale my cigarettes’ strays? I am not a bit bothered. Why? They say that second – hand smoke is worse than puffing those sticks yourself. To which I totally disagree. The reason is I have yet to see for myself any recorded scientific finding/discovery or article that will give conclusion to this hypothesis. Passive smokers can cover their nose or something but I will not stop smoking just because of them.

Back to those glory days when smoking is still allowed at SM Malls, where my friends and I would hang – out, chill or just waste the hours away. Well, that was before and I see no indications that it will be that way again. I just hope that Robinson’s Malls will not follow suit or they will suffer the same fate as that of SM Malls. That the only time people flock to their premises is when there’s a midnight [or three – day] sale!


Prerequisite Pretenses

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I don’t know if I should be raving or ranting about what happened last night but without further ado, here it goes:

Uncle’s in town, after 15 years of their stay in the states, he, Aunt and cousin decided to spend a month’s vacation here in the Philippines. I can clearly remember before Uncle and family left for the US for good, I had a heart to heart talk with him for me to be a good eldest child and to look after my sisters. Of all the talks we had then, he specifically asked me to change my gay ways and be a tough, masculine, straight guy my late father and him wanted me to be.

So, it was a really awkward situation for a gay like me to be in. Imagine me on that baritone voice talking to my uncle about stuffs like girls (?), sports and all those guy talk. It didn’t help that he had seen my FHM collection and I really can’t blame him for assuming that I’m drooling over the tits and the butts when in reality I was looking for tips on how to pleasure men, hehehe!

T’was a real torture. I can’t even walk, move about, and talk without being too conscious that my gay tendencies will manifest in front of my uncle and the lot. Add the fact that one of my cousin’s guy cousin is really interesting that I can’t help but think that he is somehow getting the subtle messages I’m throwing him like, “Hey, dude, have you watched Liberated 2? Francine (Prieto) really did go all the way on that one, I can watch it with you if you want, huh?”

Good thing though, that uncle didn’t mention or smell anything about my questionable preference. The worst thing he said was something like about me being too pale – skinned for a guy. I just shrugged it off and reminded him that it runs in our family, that his brother (my late father) is even paler than me compared.

It was a real torture, yes. But I am still glad that uncle’s home again, but I hope this time no more talks like that when I was a kid. I’m his only nephew, but he still got four nieces (my sisters) to look over [and torture] with!



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