On Gay Marriage Pt. 2

Previously on Souljacker


It has been ages now since the first non-straights debated the issue online. Our cradle was Pinoyexchange, and it was the closets' turn to speak about the subject.

The person who floated the idea doesn't matter, but gay marriage was already a hot topic - even debate clubs in college make their own proposition. Of course, the LBGT groups were at the forefront of lobbying it at the Batasan. But without the broad support of the public, same-sex marriage never left the parliament of streets.

I was still a buck then - slightly confused - but my ideas about homosexuality were already forming. It was a great time for re-evaluation. Everyone who doubted their sexuality was scrambling to find a connection. And while the rest of us were still crawling out of the closet, gaps in our cramped space allowed us to peer through and see the light.

"Imagine a life where everyone accepts you." An advocate explains. "Your marriage vows are recognized, your joint bank account, expensive house, and well-mannered adopted children will be protected by the state." Some of us were dreamy-eyed while thinking of these possibilities.

The selling point is to make sure we enjoy the same perks all married couples do.

"And of course, you can plan your very special wedding."



The promise was enough for some to be swayed to come out in the open. But the gay movement then was still in its infancy. A handful were still resentful of the fact that their attraction with men had put them at a disadvantage. While a minority chose to form a pack to distance themselves away from the mainstream.

Our day of awakening came when gays are being mocked because of the way they dress, talk and flirt with men. There was no such thing as straight acting and everyone who confess preference to the same sex are expected to act flamboyant.

Thus everyone labeled themselves "Bisexual."

It was a time before Queer As Folk barely caught everyone's attention; the highly controversial OUT talk show was conceived by the Kapuso Network; the Ladlad Anthology of J.Neil Garcia hit the bookshelves; and Mint still occupied a small corner of Orosa. Word spreads that the New People's Army performed their first same-sex wedding between two men, but this was condemned not only by the government, but by the Catholic Church as well.

With the revolution happening everywhere, the promise of gay marriage was high and lofty. But for most of us who were still struggling with our identity, acceptance must come first.

And I still have to recover from my first male relationship breakup.

Only With Sims

Only with simulation does my madness come to life. Lucky for this fashionably-challenged little boy, nobody gives a damn if he chooses to be a princess in a world populated by coded sentience.

His name is Elvis and he will be loved.

On Gay Marriage Pt. 1

While the world celebrates the passing of the Marriage Equality Act in New York, victory remains elusive for those in search of true and sincere acceptance.

Marriage without a church or temple wedding isn't going to be the real thing. Why can some people have all the bells and whistles in the church of their choice but not me? Of course, there have been and will be congregations and churches that allow gay men and lesbians to be married in their midst and to bless those unions, recognizing that God loves them just as much as Governor Andrew Cuomo does. But some rich and influential religious institutions are not only free to continue to reject gay men and women as equal beneficiaries of all aspects of faith but will now rally their congregants to reject politicians who are willing to abide with this extension of secular civil rights — no matter how much acceptance there is of same-sex marriage elsewhere, no matter how many wedding announcements appear in the New York Times.

Howard Chua Eowan

Gay Marriage, A Bittersweet Victory

time.com

Sabado Nights

On a night like this, the first order of business is to choose the dance floor. Whether it be Che'lu, BED or O-Bar, what matters is that I get there and party. Clubbing is a sort of addiction - an excuse to be alone and purge that hangover left from last week's revelry. The weekdays are mostly dreary: work, home, empty sweet nothings, failed dates.

Life goes on in a blink:

All I ever desire is to feel alive.

So the gym is my temple and my body, the altar.  The week's work-out is in preparation for a war dance that has been going on for ages.  Sometimes I would leave the gym at past midnight, pumped up and ready for action. Destination is Malate. The goal is to get drunk and get crazy. Soon, I would have to muster enough balls to take-off my shirt and bust a move to catch someone's attention.

Up there on the ledge, I exhort the masses.  Possessed by a rave god who feeds on energy, the adrenalin rush would sometimes leaves me breathless and begging not to end the party. Of course there are the admirers and the rivals, when luck shines on some random nights, even dreams show up unexpected. The swift, sweet love is  intoxicating. Sadly, the fairy tale ends when the sobering up begins.



This was my life a year ago. Exhausted and searching for release,  all I ever looked for was that one soul who would stop me from repeating the madness. I wanted to end the cycle but I was to weak to let go. With Planet Romeo off-limits, and the risky entanglements with boys from the same space discouraged, the dance floor was my only cruise. How ironic for something that gave me so much freedom - and distraction, would soon become my prison.

Fate tells that the one soul was never found there, not even in the queue snaking around the nightclub. Instead he made his presence felt just before he got hooked, and possibly turn into someone like me. He has never seen me dance, nor spotted the drunken gaze in my eyes. For I turned my back the day he held my hand and from then forth, the clubber in me disappeared.

Soon, the dance floor became a distant memory.  Covered in thick layers of smoke and ecstasy, the thrill and loneliness - the great duo of the party -  stay remnants of a delinquent history.

And though the rave god still lives, and hum to the sound of Trance, its playground now stays inside my head. A decade of clubbing should be enough. No longer could my legs bear more. And while I still remember all the sins I committed in the name of dancing, redemption comes the farther I stay away from the dance floor.

Denial was my word the whole time I was there. Yet in my hidden longings, I was there hoping to find my another. Now that he has found me, restored and chastened, there's no reason to return and get lost like I once did in my search.

       

Stranded

The torrents of mud and water carried by the tropical depression have not only inundated the metropolis, it brought back memories of past calamities that left so many homes in ruins.



Our office building is perched on top of a flattened hill. Straddling between the cities of  Mandaluyong and San Juan, this vista offers a panoramic view of Makati. While zero visibility has left much of the cityscape in a shroud of fog, the steady downpour was enough for storm drains to overflow and run-offs to cascade down the road.

At past 10 in the evening, I left my workplace with a certainty of wading across leptospirosis-carrying flood waters. I was warned not once, but twice to stay behind for the roads ahead were still impassable to vehicles.  Jeeps were hard to find, and with the ominous arrival of  more rains, people outside rushed to get home.

But the stubborn self refused to be still.  The passage home maybe deep in oblivion but I know the back roads that would lead me to my destination.  With luck, I might find myself in front of the door without dipping an  inch of  my boots in water. But such lofty goal is beyond reach. To arrive home in one piece is all that I ask.



So off I lumbered not towards the flooded Shaw, but to Wilson's crest where vintage jeeps and laid-back drivers ply the route going to Little Baguio. Despite the day-long cloudburst, the streets of San Juan stayed festive and merry. The idea was to ride a G-Liner Bus across Puregold Agora. If public transport is not available or competition is fiercer than expected, a short walk across the Santa Mesa bridge and into SM Centerpoint might get me a ride home.

The swollen river under the bridge engorged houses along its banks. Floatsam bounced off the rapids while the thought of human remains would force a curiouser to step back from the rails. On sunny days, the tepid stream reeked of human waste. But during the monsoon season, fast currents could even pull steel barges downstream.    

A submerged intersection greeted me upon crossing the waterway. Aurora and Araneta Avenue were still under water as cars and trucks cautiously  wade through. While jeeps were  abundant, a passenger must wait  at the middle of the road for the driver to take notice.  Hailing from an island, I was able to ride a jeep only to learn it will have to cut its trip short.

Another jeep ride, another downpour. Just a few blocks away and I am finally home. What separates me from my shelter was a sea of trash mixed with infinite drops of rain. My mind was set to plunging in waist-deep waters. Better yet, I could stay inside the jeep until the flood completely subsided.

But the vehicle steered right at Altura to the street going to Balic-Balic. While the waters there could be crossed in boots, the distance I have to walk is as far as Altura to my exact destination.

At least I don't have to fear for open manholes.

And could still use my boots the next time the city turns into a modern-day Atlantis.

So I got off in Balic-Balic to begin my trek towards the edge of Santa Mesa. The waters were much shallow and my boots were finally able to step foot on dry land. With my ear buds secured and my phone's FM stereo playing classical music, the wade felt more like a leisure stroll.  Even the gentle drizzle splashed a more romantic setting to a drab and desolate andscape.

It  was almost midnight when I got home: Two hours after I left the office and decided to set course in spite of the unknown. During ordinary days, a Quiapo-bound jeepney ride would take me thirty minutes to get to  Pureza. Sometimes even shorter. But it was a night of reckoning and people living in lowlands are being spirited elsewhere.

I should be grateful to find my bed waiting.

Along the journey (at that time when I had to do some wall walking outside SM Centerpoint) was an epiphany - that should something tragic happens, I would leave behind a sleazy entry for my loved ones to read. Finally the perverted Mugen has been exposed.  But more than the fear of leaving behind a tainted legacy is another realization:

That it's good to know there is still fun while trying your best not to get stranded.

Jacks (Final Act)

Act One
Act Two
Porn Story - Supplemental



Jakol.

Lahat ng mga binata ay natututo nito bago nila subukan magparaos sa iba. Marami ang nakakadiskubre mag-self-pleasure matapos ang udyok ng mga kaibigan: habang nanonood ng porn ni tatay, nagbabasa ng sexy magazine ni uncle, o minsan, kahit pagpapantasya lang sa nakahubad na litrato ng isang babae ay tiyak na lalabasan kapag may hinimas.

Pero hindi ganito ang simula ko.

As  far as I remember, kantutan talaga ang nakakapagpatigas sa akin.  Never akong na turn-on sa babae at sa halip, naka-focus ang diwa ko sa facial expression at alaga ng lalaki. I wouldn't admit this noong confused pa ako, pero ngayong malinaw na sa akin ang mga bagay, the tendency has been there long before nalaman ko na okay lang pala.

Dala ng mga kaibigang nag-uumapaw sa kalibugan, na curious ako kung paano magjakol. That was in Grade 5. Busog na busog ako sa kanilang mga kuwento habang ako naman ay pilit sinusubukan ang kanilang ginagawa.  Hindi man ako naging saksi sa akto, pero salamat sa makulay na imahinasyon at sa pagmamadaling ipaalam sa mundo na binata na ako, (na boses dalaga) sumambulat din isang gabi ang pinakaipon-ipon kong katas.



Flashback:



Isang gabi ay naiwan si Mugen na nag-iisa sa master's bedroom.  Hindi pa umuuwi ang kanyang mga parents habang ang mga yaya naman ay nasa kusina ng bahay. Sa muling pagkakataon ay binuklat niya ang makapal na libro na naglalaman ng annual compilation ng Remate. Wala man si Xerex sa clippings pero sapat na pampainit ang mga kuwentong nilalaman ng tabloid.

Habang nakadapa at iniimagine ang mga bed scenes, naisipan ni Mugen na kumuha ng trading card (teks) na may picture ni Tienshinhan. Hindi niya tiyak kung bakit, ngunit turn on makita ang bato-batong katawan ng kalbong bida. Kaunting diin sa kama at nagsimulang kumislot si junior. Ilang mahihinang kadyot pa at nang sipatin nito ang matigas na bagay sa loob ng kanyang shorts, dumampi sa kanyang daliri ang malagkit na katas na tumatagas sa ulo ng kanyang putotoy.    



A few hours later:




Hindi ako makatulog ng gabing iyon. Pakiramdam ng katawan ko na para itong sinisilaban at nagmumula ang apoy galing sa puson ko. Kung dati rati ay okay lang katabi sina Mama at Papa, sa mga oras na iyon ay parang may nagbago.

Awkward na makihiga sa kanilang kama matapos akong mag pre-cum sa loob ng shorts.

Ilang beses akong bumangon para umihi, at sa mga pagkakataong iyon ay tiningnan ko ang mamula-mula kong titi.

Matigas.

Ang sarap himas-himasin.

Sa tinagal tagal kong pinangarap ipasubo ito - gaya ng napapanood ko sa porn - noong gabing yun ay gusto kong may mag-lollipop sa akin.

May gustong kumawala.

At umapaw pababa ng pantog ko.

Supot  man ay madali kong natutunan kung paano paglaruan ang sarili.  Sa halip na magtaas-baba ng kamay ay hinigit ko ang foreskin ng aking ari para lumabas ang ulo. Kapag banat na ang balat ay muli ko itong ibabalik para maging supot ulit.

Putangina ang sarap!!

Hindi pa ako nakuntento. Nilawayan ko ang buong bumbilya ng aking pagkalalaki para higit itong dumulas. Muli kong binatak ang balat hanggang sa napaungol ako ng kaunti.

Sa aking munting espasyo sa kama ay dahan-dahan kong ginalaw ang sarili. Nakalimutan ko na kung ano ang iniisip ko noon, pero dahil marami akong katabi ay mas inalala ko na may makadiskubre sa ginagawa ko. Elementary pa lang ay exposed na ako sa porn.  Pero ni-minsan ay hindi ko ito ipinaalam kahit kanino. Nahuli na akong nagbabasa pero at that moment na ginagawa ko na, marahil, higit akong excited malaman kung paano ang tunay na labasan.  



Nagpatuloy ako ng  pagsasalsal hanggang sa umunat ang aking mga paa.  Kaunti pa at malapit na.  Sa susunod ay kakayanin ko na mag-isa.  Hindi ko na kailangan magising ng hatinggabi para ulitin ang ganito. Sa rurok ng kaligayahan ay sumabog ang pagkarami-raming tamod na naipon mula pagkabata. Dumaloy ito pababa hanggang sa ako mismo ay nanlagkit sa sarili.

Nakatulog ako kaagad dahil sa pagod.



First year high school nang una kong nadiskubre ang ligaya. Hindi man tuli at boses soprano kung magsalita pero hindi ito naging hadlang upang palayain ang sarili.

Dumaan ang panahon.  Nakagraduate ako sa bold magazines ni papa, pati na rin sa mga straight videos na nire-rewind ko sa last scene kapag ako lang ang tao sa kuwarto.  Nahumaling din ako sa hentai, tinanong ang mga tropa tungkol sa jakol habits nila at noong bandang huli, pinilit ko pang isali ang kaibigan ko sa paunahan magpalabas gaya ng ginagawa nila noon.

Banta niya sa akin, pambading daw yun.

Seldom spoken but always done. Ganito nagsimula ang sariling sikap ko. Ikaw, paano ka nagsimulang magbate?

Force Projection

Everything you are about to hear must never leave this room. What I will tell you concerns not only our national security, but also the state's holdings scattered across the Spratlys.

First off, we shall stop calling the South China Sea as West Philippine Sea. Renaming a body of water with a name only this government recognize not only sounds silly, it makes our claims look desperate. Tell the media to use the old name again. West Philippine Sea isn't even mentioned in our children's textbooks yet.

There should be news blackout of all our military maneuvers west of Palawan.  The people do not need to know, nor should the Chinese too.

However, all ships of the republic conducting oil exploration, large-scale fishing and scientific survey must be equipped with cameras. The world must know - through third party sources - that our civilians are being harassed by these yellow bastards.

The navy needs to send our aging corvettes to the Spratlys. If someone asks, tell them they're on a mission to guard our waters from smugglers coming from Vietnam. Of course, we should coordinate this with the Vietnamese authorities. Tell them we're actually hunting for Chinese poachers destroying our reefs.

Most of  these old ships will be sent to be grounded on beach heads. The corvettes will serve as permanent outposts on some of the strategic islets. They will be equipped with beds, solar panels, small desalination plants and even spare parts for boat engines. Did I mention that these outposts will be manned by women? Who said we're arming ourselves. Our female soldiers are there to assist our fishermen.

Now let's discuss our military's more pressing concerns.

F/A 18 Hornet

A country without a fixed-wing aircraft is better off without an air force. The very reason we are being bullied by China is because we don't have a single fighter jet at our disposal. Contact the Spanish Embassy at once.  I've heard they are short of cash lately. Being a former colony, they might be interested to sell a squadron of F/18 Hornet at a  lower price. In exchange, mandatory teaching of Spanish in elementary will be put into effect.

Finally, the country needs a navy that can see eye to eye with its rivals. This time, we shall stop asking for hand-me-downs and decommissioned warships. Instead, the Philippines will acquire a more modern fleet from a country other than the United States.  So far, the Koreans seem to be the best choice. Not only do they build warships and sell them commercially, they would be sympathetic to our cause knowing we have a common threat.

Ulsan Class Frigate - BRP Lapu Lapu

Now sourcing the funds for  these upgrades will be nearly impossible. Not to mention, the project is downright ambitious. But this is the price we have to pay should we decide to arm ourselves and assert our borders.  The sale of Camp Aguinaldo to a Korean conglomerate would get the job done -  but this will stir a controversy this administration may not be able to deflect. Sooner or later, someone will discover these plans and accuse us of wasting our budget on things the country hardly needs.

Therefore, the burden will still be carried by the nation. Keep in mind that diplomacy is for the weak and Beijing gets away with lip service.

Truth remains, the choice is yours.



Fictional National Defense Council Meeting
including the Senate President and Speaker of the House
Manila, Republic of the Philippines

The Tactician

MANILA, Philippines —Finding itself in a territorial dispute with powerful China without one warship to call its own, the Philippine government heaved a sigh of relief, on Wednesday, after China declared it would not use force to settle the controversy in the West Philippine Sea (South China Sea).

Philippine Daily Inquirer

Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near

Sun Tzu
The Art of War

Pity how the country responds to threats from Beijing.  Now, we must call ourselves "tiny" and "defenseless" simply because we don't have a warship in our navy. The Humabon, a frigate-class vessel doesn't count.  Being more of a floating museum rather than a boat with guns, as Senate President Enrile puts it, just one torpedo from the Haixun 31 and we're done.

This is a far cry from a century ago. I remember reading a passage in a history book that tells of the colonial government sending its submarines to augment the forces of  US Navy. It was the eve of World War I and the United States was about to go to war. Since the islands were too far to be involved in the affairs of Europe, our warships sailed in defense of Washington.

But then and now are different times. Self-interest means that nations act not because of ideals but on what it will gain from doing an action. By now it is clear that the US will never come to our aid. We will be on our own should a shooting war sparks in the South China Sea. If the Humabon sinks for one reason or another, I bet the Chinese would merely shrug the incident and claim that it was us who baited them in the first place.

Let us keep in mind that Haixun 31 is a maritime patrol ship on a visit to Singapore. It was the press release circulated by Beijing. The party mouthpiece added that the ship will conduct surveys and inspections of Beijing's possession in the South China Sea. We should take the words at face value. I do not know why we have to tell the world that we sent our navy to patrol those waters, when we could deny our movements and keep the Chinese in the dark.

Is it really to assert the country's sovereignty?

Is it to tell the world that we're not pushovers despite having no modern warships?

Is it our way of telling our American allies that we need help?

I've been a computer gamer for as long as I remember. Whether its space opera, fantasy or alternate history, the strategy genre always catches my fancy. You see, the rules never change: protect your possessions not with words but with weapons. If  arms are required to show your strength, match your rival's technology even when you don't have the numbers. The Rajah Humabon and Haixun 31 are generations apart. It's like showing someone your grandpa's phonograph when he is playing Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night" on Iphone 4.

If  I were the government, I will end the rhetoric now and brush aside the issue of Spratlys. There is no need for such distraction. The country is in the pangs of hunger and the people are better off with more food on the table than claiming some uninhabitable islets west of Manila. Let Vietnam do the saber rattling and the military exercises. The country will benefit from it - one way or another. Until Beijing starts claiming Palawan and Batanes, I'd remain a happy camper.  Let's invite the Han tourists to visit the country and ask them to invest. Let's also continue apologizing for poorly handling the Quirino Grandstand hostage last year. We must so; we still have loans to pay thanks to GMA and OFWs to send to the mainland to keep the dollars coming.

Besides,  Beijing is becoming a superpower and the US is on the decline.

The sooner we see this truth, the better we can adjust to changes.  

Akap

Perfect weather song.

Long empty road stretching for miles, lit in intervals by sentry lamp posts. The sleeping city glimmers in the distance, the jagged mountain blasting arctic wind towards the plains.

In a suburb at 2 in the morning, with the after shower leaving the ground damp and chilly, having a solitary walk going in circles. This song reminds you that sometimes, a warm embrace is all that you need to break free of desolation.

Sleepless 1

"Promotion is not about gaining power, it is all about more responsibility".

On leaders and friendship

Bohemian Diary

A team leader reported that they had a sudden drop in work volume in one of the accounts. The boss immediately dispatched a letter asking the client what happened. 

The client responded that there seems to be a technical problem with one of their phone service providers. While the explanation appears plausible, the way it was written could be interpreted in different ways.  

What if the client pulled out without telling us ahead?  

What if the phone service provider cut the chat service after an agent spoke like a bitch-in-heat to a 12-year old kid?

What if...

The volume of work from that account is not as glaring compared to the others we attend to. But the absence of users wishing to talk and flirt the blues away was alarming enough to affect the production of one team.  

Lucky for the rest of us. For while the technical group of the client sorted out the issues affecting the chat service, a sudden deluge of work from the other accounts beefed up our numbers.  Our hands were so full, even I had to take an agent role just to lower our queue.

But we know, the stars will not be on our side forever. Sooner or later, we too will have to face the reality should our worst fears ever materialize - the disappearance of one account.  

It is said that there are times it's better to be a follower than to be a leader because of the responsibilities a leader must bear. Not only will the troubles haunt you even in your sleep, your head will always be below a swinging axe, ready to roll once a failure changes the landscape around you.

With the Patroness' uneasy silence came my increasing, behind-the-scene-presence. The queue in the troubled account remained empty during much of the day. I was already at the gym at past midnight and my thoughts were still pegged with the affairs of work. At past 1 am, I was still looking at the production report to see if there are changes. The trend looks promising but it was too early to tell. At 4, with my eyes barely open, the report revealed an upswing in the output. Satisfied with the developments, I went to sleep only to have dreams of work.

The last time I sent my credentials elsewhere, part of the reason for the exodus was to run away from it all - the responsibilities, the skinning from my superiors, the worries of the pockets now that my mom is about to retire.  The boss will never know the vigil I did last night, nor will Mami Athena. For these extra efforts, though unnecessary, were already built-in to me long before I was tapped for the position. 

It's been a decade now since I learned to leave the TV on at night. Since then, when my world seems to crumble. I have this assurance that sleep will come, even when hell comes to claim me in the morning.   

Hello!


We started receiving messages again on [this account] around 1:00 am, but the volume wasn't high.


attached are some screen grabs of users noticed that there was something wrong with the service.


Thanks!


-  GY Shift Team Leader

A Peek Into The Dark Ages

They say you never trust people in robes.


Guys4Men

January 16, 2008

Boy: would it be alright to bookmark you so...

....So that even in this dark and forsaken place, I would still be reminded that there is light?

Minister: Tell me so I can pray with u or for u ...

Miy problems is worth half a million > how much is yours. Im not loosing hope.

God is good to me all the time.

Boy: Nothing really that big. I'm just trying to contain my urges. :)

Thanks for replying. It really means a lot.

Minister: Why dont u jack off or look for someone to jack u off. dont control your murges, let go to the one u love...

Boy: I'd try that. Maybe its my exposure here that's driving me this way.

Minister: Exposure to way ang edad mo ay eded ng malilibog dats why u need a lover or partner to fool arouid.

Minister: There is nothing wrong with having a release with another consenting adult.

Boy: It's like this. Something inside me wants to compete in those sex forums. But when I get rejected, an urge to fight back takes over me. It's like an endless cycle - me looking for approval. What's worse is that what I'm just seeking is an approval; that I could not accept being rejected.

I know everyone gets one. Maybe I don't get it yet. Somehow your presence enabled me to break the cycle.

Boy: I know. I just think that i'm too sexual that's why I'm concerned. :)

Minister: With my age, I had a thousand rejections. Rejection is normal. If we are rejcted, by some one then lets move on.

50% of the guys in the sex forum are just fooling around.Pagdi mo kilala ang tao di ka dapat mag seb kasi u either get held up or hold up or std or hiv....

So be cool and take rejection with a good laugh

Boy: that's what i'm trying to learn.

Thank you very much for listening. Next time we see each other. I will make sure i'm in a better standing than it is today.

God bless po.

Minister: are u a virgin in sexual matters ?

Boy: nope. thats what i'm afraid of. If I'd unleash myself right now, I'd released the sexual side of me.

Minister: hahahahahahaha.

Hindi naman ganyan. I can teach u one by one if u like.

Its not that serious. Ur standards and moiral values with still control u.

my number 09164xxxxx. im glove unlitixt so pwede tau text if globe ka na. My nephew will use the pc. text ka pa glove ka. keep in touch.

U sound delicious, In my 55 years never had a virgin in my entire life.

God bless,

Boy: Thanks. Take care and god bless. My shift is over. See you again here.

Minister: I will be your sex slave. hehehehehehe

Message Exchange Terminated.

Mini Me

In third year high school, my friends were able to convince me to sign up for the cadet officers candidate course. (COCC) The purpose of the training, which lasts the entire school year was to groom the cadet dumb-guards to become respected officers.

Part of the servitude meant staying in the campus from sunrise to sundown. Apart from showing up neat and presentable, the cadets also served as the teachers' personal assistant. (buying their lunches, bringing their stuff wherever they go, or being asked to flag a cab outside the campus to bring it right in front of the building) I don't know what my other peers have learned, but they emerged from the program disciplined, organized and ready to lead the batch.

Memories of my COCC days were often hazy, save for the black tickler, the polished pair of leather shoes and the Saturday training along with the seniors. Yet one thing that got stuck in my head was the constant reference of my superiors to one of their officers who looks like an older version of me.

His name was Jaime.  Much of his features are vague now, except for his smooth brown skin, deep set of eyes and broad shoulders that made him more looming that the corps commander himself. However, his laid-back attitude had earned him only a minor role in the corps. Aside from these shallow descriptions, Jaime's aloofness had left so much questions unanswered:  Did he ever dated someone? What's his favorite subject? Who's his crush in high school?  Does he watch anime or at least listen to rock bands? What are his plans after graduation?

Back then, Jaime was the one person I would love to get to know better. At a time when my self esteem took some serious blows, his quiet confidence and boundless optimism were the blueprint of my ideal self. The more my peers made fun or brushed me aside, the more I looked up to him. Jaime's steely gaze, his reserved smile, his bulky frame were his elements I wanted for myself.  He was a loner with an attitude and my fascination was short of admiration - a secret crush.  He was the reason I stuck with the junior cadets and planned to take his post after he left.

But these thoughts had never materialized. Only a week in the program and I left for the wilderness. Instead, Jaime will go down in history as the first guy I tried to copy. There will be more to come, each will have a set of attributes that made me fond of that person. Years went by and I'd tell others "I'd like to be you." in gestures or sometimes in words. I do not know what their reaction was, but one managed to block me in G4M from ever checking out his pictures. 

Eventually, acceptance caught up and I got tired of looking for guys who would become - one day - as his reflection. Whether similar in looks or interests, I've learned to suppress my nature and assert full control over my space.  I may have suffered some serious bumps along the way but lessons were learned.

In the end, all you have is your shadow to play.

With this reality, I stopped having open admiration or even showing deep fascination for people beyond my league. I ceased thinking of having a big brother or even relying on someone to look after my back. I may look up to people or sometimes become envy of some. But by now, I know, the accomplishments of others could always be mine.

I did not grow to become a full man without having faith in my potentials.

But there are times I still get curious when friends tell they met someone who looks like me. I try not to elicit a reaction but you can always tell at the way my eyes glow.

"What does he look like?  Is he cute?"

"How does he think?"

These are some questions, my mind wants to ask  Besides, the thought of rubbing elbows with someone who could pass as your twin sounds like a good narrative.

But behind these narcissistic tendencies are remnants of some histories I only get to deal now - that my sister is married; that I am almost out of the closet; that I can always invite the partner to stay home without anyone asking.

I guess its not Jaime to begin with. Maybe its always been me.

just one look at the picture and I can tell, kamukha ko siya. lol  

As far as I can tell, my growing up years has been rife with self-denials.  Finding someone to cast my reflection was something I'd hope for to at least, swallow, who I have become.



photo credits:

Travel Guides: Spratlys

"It is noteworthy that the Philippines has receded more and more from the radar of American foreign policymakers as China’s economic weight becomes more and more a tantalizing prospect for American business. Liberal capitalism and totalitarian communism may not be strange bedfellows after all. As for the Philippines and the United States, so much for shared values and historic ties. The lure of nostalgia—and Hollywood—may be irresistible, but the Philippines needs a douse of shocking realism to wake it up from its stupor. And that shock comes with the Spratlys."

Philippine Daily Inquirer, Editorial

Toughening Up

The tiny, scattered islets off the coast of Palawan might be in hot waters lately. But the thrill of riding the notorious flying coffins should be enough reason to make this trip worth taking.

While the journey alone is just but an icing on the cake, the Spratlys offer so much more. Sand banks in the middle of nowhere, mangrove forests lie untouched for generations, and snapping seabirds guarding their newly hatched chicks should be a good sideshow.  Yet, we encourage you to take a closer look. There's more to see in these provocative islands of the west. 

The islets were once military outposts to the soldiers of the republic. Disposable patrol boats who have seen their best days during WW2 were allowed to set course for shallow waters. Once grounded on the coral reefs, its marines would then occupy the outcrop. However, because of the need to establish a permanent presence, would-be colonists were hauled from Palawan. These fisher folks settled in one of the biggest islets, Pag-Asa to build a community destined to be forever bonded with the sea. 

A one-way trip to Pag-Asa would take a week by boat from Puerto Princesa. The boat would then be tossed and turned in open, and sometimes crazy waters of the "West Philippine Sea." But if time is of the essence and your presence is needed back in the civilized world, a chartered plane from the Philippine Air Force is suggested. 

Lodgings are scarce in the islets, but you can always sleep under the stars. Consider yourself lucky if you can befriend the locals and they invite you into their homes. Potable water may taste a bit salty and essential items such as toiletries and snacks are hard to find.  

Pag-Asa Island

The rewards of visiting the Spratlys can be counted with your fingers. But if you love the frontier - so much - that you are willing to swim across unresolved international borders and step foot on islets claimed by several nations, then this is your destination.

Listen to soldiers as they share stories of how they find joy in boredom. Say hello to Vietnamese guards as they come to trade a pack of President cigarettes for a bottle of Gin Kapitan. And if you're unlucky - but bold enough to approach a passing Chinese warship with its bristling guns pointed at your boat, capture these priceless moments in pictures for the world to see. In Spratly's everything is unpredictable - like its weather - and who knows you might return home a celebrity, and with the adventures of Spratlys to tell.

To celebrate Bentusi's roaring success in our Travel Guides Writing Project. May stable (at matrabahong) raket ako hanggang October! Woot Woot!


Entry NOT to be taken seriously.

Silent All These Weeks

Candor tempts me to write, "Did you miss me?" But doing so would be my unbecoming. This quiet little corner never meant to catch your attention. The blog exists simply because of the author's need to scribble words.

Nothing more, nothing less.



They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. But I doubt if this feeling is shared between you and me, or I and the Souljacker. As far as my memory goes, this slow push towards the headwaters has been going since the first month. I have been emancipated last May: I have lived through the days without ever gazing my sights into the blogs.

So why return Mugen? Is it because of the old adage that goes something like "once a blogger, always a blogger?" Is it because old habits never die? Or is it because like how the world goes, stories never end?

Whatever the answer, the undeniable thump of this organ within my chest tells that I'm still in love with words. That I cannot go on without embracing this gift that brought me here in the first place. I maybe floating in placid waters, but I still owe to the great beyond the narratives of today.



I may have been enchanted by my simulated life in Sims 3; allured by having a new machine lying in my study table; and been blessed by Bentusi's timely writing projects. Yet I still hear the call of Souljacker in passing whispers. I may have gone through the horrors of being skinned alive by the Patroness; or painfully swallow in one gulp the cash assistance offered by the Favorite Aunt when we could not afford my mom's medicines; or spoke with the sister of my dream of letting Lenin study in our childhood school.

And these were kept muffled when I ignored my need to write. 

I may have "adopted" Baabaa when his family went south, and felt for the first time in ages how to share spaces and thrive with another guy; or even trade tales with bloggers over bottles of Tanduay Ice; or even played tansuan with the girls and twinks when my straight college tropa invited me to his house party. But my soft spot remains - no matter how silence and distraction had suppressed my will to write my life.

Ignore the fanfare and consider this as a reintroduction. Once and for all,  I've accepted: Souljacker is here to stay.




But what if I'm a mermaid?
In these jeans of his with her name still on it
Hey, but I don't care
'Cause sometimes
I said sometimes I hear my voice
And it's been here


Tori Amos
Silent All These Years