A few days ago, I met with two of my friends (one girl, the other a PLU who just came out to us late last year).
While eating at Green Tomato, our conversation led to Project Runway.
Naturally, I told them who my favorite designers were and also said that I find Eli (which according to the PLU friend is pronounced as ee-lie (parang ilaw na ginawang y yung w) and not Eh-li) cute and is my new crush.
And then he blurted with a little hint of a disgusted tone: "Wag, yun! Wag yun! Baklang-bakla!"
Napataas na lang ang kilay ko, sabi ko: "Oh eh ano naman."
"Tsaka parang jologs daw. Basta sobrang layo nung itsura nya daw sa personal dun sa pictures nya sa net. Nakadate na yun nung friend ko eh. Turn-off daw nung nagkita sila sa personal."
Fine. So bawal na magkacrush sa bakla? Eh hello bakla pare-pareho naman tayong bakla? Sa tomboy nga nagkacrush ako once, sa bakla pa kaya?
Tsaka hello crush lang naman, vahket kelangang gawan ng issue kung baklang-bakla ang isang bakla? At ano kung type nya magpose ng panlalaki sa kanyang mga pictures. Masama?
Pati pa ba naman sa kung sino ang pwede maging crush kelangan may discrimination? Naman. Tigilan ako.
Basta sa akin, ang cute ay cute kahit pa effeminate, straight acting, lalaki, babae o tomboy.
p.s.
Hindi ko na crush si Ee-Lie, hindi dahil sa baklang-bakla sya kumilos sa Project Runway, kundi dahil inaaway nya si sister Veejay! Hmpt! Pero bet ko pa din ang kanyang mga star tats. hihihihihi
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Wag si Bakla?
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Who is Larry King?
Just wanted to share this article.
Young, Gay and Murdered
By Ramin Setoodeh NEWSWEEK
Published Jul 19, 2008
From the magazine issue dated Jul 28, 2008
Kids are coming out younger, but are schools ready to handle the complex issues of identity and sexuality? For Larry King, the question had tragic implications.
Teenage Tragedy
A 15-year-old boy told family and friends he was gay. He dressed flamboyantly; he hit on a classmate. His murder made clear that issues of sexuality, at such a young age, can have heartbreaking consequences.
At 15, Lawrence King was small—5 feet 1 inch—but very hard to miss. In January, he started to show up for class at Oxnard, Calif.'s E. O. Green Junior High School decked out in women's accessories. On some days, he would slick up his curly hair in a Prince-like bouffant. Sometimes he'd paint his fingernails hot pink and dab glitter or white foundation on his cheeks. "He wore makeup better than I did," says Marissa Moreno, 13, one of his classmates. He bought a pair of stilettos at Target, and he couldn't have been prouder if he had on a varsity football jersey. He thought nothing of chasing the boys around the school in them, teetering as he ran.
But on the morning of Feb. 12, Larry left his glitter and his heels at home. He came to school dressed like any other boy: tennis shoes, baggy pants, a loose sweater over a collared shirt. He seemed unhappy about something. He hadn't slept much the night before, and he told one school employee that he threw up his breakfast that morning, which he sometimes did because he obsessed over his weight. But this was different. One student noticed that as Larry walked across the quad, he kept looking back nervously over his shoulder before he slipped into his first-period English class. The teacher, Dawn Boldrin, told the students to collect their belongings, and then marched them to a nearby computer lab, so they could type out their papers on World War II. Larry found a seat in the middle of the room. Behind him, Brandon McInerney pulled up a chair.
Brandon, 14, wasn't working on his paper, because he told Mrs. Boldrin he'd finished it. Instead, he opened a history book and started to read. Or at least he pretended to. "He kept looking over at Larry," says a student who was in the class that morning. "He'd look at the book and look at Larry, and look at the book and look at Larry." At 8:30 a.m., a half hour into class, Brandon quietly stood up. Then, without anyone's noticing, he removed a handgun that he had somehow sneaked to school, aimed it at Larry's head, and fired a single shot. Boldrin, who was across the room looking at another student's work, spun around. "Brandon, what the hell are you doing!" she screamed. Brandon fired at Larry a second time, tossed the gun on the ground and calmly walked through the classroom door. Police arrested him within seven minutes, a few blocks from school. Larry was rushed to the hospital, where he died two days later of brain injuries.
For the complete story, click here. It's a long read but I suggest you check it out.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Untitled
chains.
my heart is chained, enslaved by emptiness
abyss.
my soul is trapped in a vast bottomless crevasse
darkness.
my eyes somber, murky and can't see no sun
no picturesque world, no vivid imagery, no variegated visage
no moons nor stars, no nothing
just bleak dreary dusk
gagged.
my mouth is shunned, hushed, silenced
i'm choked, nauseated, i'm full, about to surge but can't
wings.
would i be able to break away, and fly, and be free
(i'm gay) i should be
gasp.
air. struggling for breath. must muster enough strength
to shatter these bonds that hold me back
must kindle enough courage
to stand up and say i'm me, i'm free
i can rest now and be happy...
(something i wrote back in college. stumbled upon it this morning when i was looking for something and found my old notebook instead.)
Friday, March 7, 2008
Differential Calculus
(Note: This post has NOTHING to do with mathematics. So people suffering from innumeracy, you have nothing to worry about. It's just a silly title that's all.)
When I was a kid, I didn't really think I was gay. Maybe I was gay, but I did not think I was. Heck- back then I did not even know what gay was. But one thing is for sure, I certainly knew I was different.
Unlike my boy playmates, I was never keen with "manly" games such as diablo, sumpit-sumpitan, basketball, etc. And unlike my girl playmates, I did not enjoy playing house (I'd rather play school so I could be teacher) nor rag dolls. But I enjoyed very much the usual games kids my age played during those times: patintero, tumbang preso, moro-moro, saker, taguan, teks to name a few. I was also quite good with piko and jackstone. And of course, I shared their love of watching Bioman, Shaider, Maskman and all.
Unlike most of my cousins, I loved going to school. I asked a lot. I read a lot. I was very curious and I loved learning new things. Making homeworks and projects did not bother me. I was even looking forward to doing them, in fact. I was such a nerd, gee.
Unlike my brothers (we are four in the family, all boys I have three), I never bothered with things called crushes and girl(?)friends. To be honest I never have had a crush since later in highschool. I was busy doing things, busy with school, busy with other "important" stuff. I was busy trying to live up to being the achiever(?) that I was perceived to be.
Unlike most teener boys, I adored watching my mom putting make up, I'd go to their room with a book on the pretense that I was studying, but all I really was studying is her every stroke applying eyeshadow or lipstick. haha. But like teener boys, I too have had shares of daily, you know, raging hormone episodes. Hey, I wasn't that alien!
Unlike most of the youngsters in the clan (typical province, relatives living within an arm's length from each other), I knew most of the family's secrets. I was my mom's confidante. (maybe that's why I grew up being nosy and loving chismis. haha.) Yes, I knew who was the ampon, knew why our kid neighbor looks very much like an uncle, basically knew too much for my age. Maybe my mom probably thought I was wise beyond my years, or that I did not care, would not remember anyway. But look ma, I remembered and I do not care if I was not ready for such revelations- afterall, it's always great knowing something not everyone knew! :)
Looking back, ok, fine, I probably was gay already (would a straight kiddo actually watch his mom put on some rouge in her pucker, probably not!)! So what's my point in this post? I was different (and felt different) because I was me - not because I was gay. And yes, I enjoyed my childhood even if I felt different.
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PTP (Points to Ponder): Did you ever feel you were different too? Did you have a memorable and enjoyable childhood?

