Women got balls too..

I've had this on my Ipod player for a long time and I feel compelled to share this with you.

My love of tennis has been evident throughout my blog and although I am not playing this sport anymore (for fear of getting tennis arms hahaha) I am still deeply in love with the sport and follow it from the sensationalism of the players to the technical aspects of the sport. From the title holders to the mechanics of the game, I seem to have a firm grasp of how everything works.

This is a lovely segment of the match between two of the best women players the game has ever seen.This match has never really ceased to amaze me. This was way back 1993 and the technology of the equipment used was still not advanced compared to today. But these two players can pound the hell out of the ball. Monica with her rocket-paced heavy two-fisted groundstrokes and phenomenal angles and Steffi with her thunderous forehand and precise backhand slices provided for us a wonderful match which will remain as one of the best Australian women's singles final in the Open era.

Focus on the rally of the match which literally comes at 4:28 with the two players trading forehands and backhands for more than 24 shots and at eye-blinding pace. Because Monica is a left-hander her double-handed forehand shot goes crosscourt to Graf's backhand. Monica's tactic in this match is pretty simple - keep the ball away from Steffi's forehand and feed her backhand which is a mere slice and not as offensive as her forehand. This particular exchange highlights that tactic real well. Steffi's advantage though is her slice is so deep and low to the ground that more often than not Seles cannot hit the ball too aggressively because of the low height of the ball. Still she attacks the Graf backhand with cross-court shots in this rally and perseveres on with what little power she can muster despite such low slices. Graf meanwhile anticipates the crosscourt shots by leaning more on the ad court - her backhand side of the court in layman's terms. This proves to be her undoing though. In the end Monica wins the

exchange with an intelligent shot - a forehand down the line where Graf was nowhere to be found.

The crowd bursts into tremendous applause after the rally and rightly so. It was one of the best rallies the tournament had ever seen! The next game saw Monica breaking Steffi's serve and consequently her spirit as Monica proceeds to take the second set and then the third.

What a wonderful game tennis is!!! Did anyone of you understand what I was ranting on? Capish???? hahahahah

PS here is the video!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gESqLzRawbU&feature=related

Salt...

I think I am due for a crash, a burnout anytime within the next couple of days. In three days I have only slept 15 hours and most of these lumbers have been uneasy, oft-interrupted experiences. Although I can take comfort in the fact that the minute I close my eyes I don’t think I undergo rapid eye movement because I just fall into a comatose of exhaustion. I have not been resting well and I feel bad for my skin LOL. I am pretty sure anytime, sometime I will have a pimple or two because of this cycle. As you know already though if you have been following this blog for a long time, my physiological life is composed of cycles. There will be days of luxurious, fantastic 8-10 hour sleeps and then the inevitable 5-6 hour cycle follows. I am on the latter cycle apparently these days.

I have not been eating a lot because I have chosen not to. I am hell-bent at giving myself an Evelyn Salt body hahaha I have been very selective of what I put into my mouth!!! (PUN INTENDED hahahahahahah!). I’ve eaten a lot of fibers – broccoli, cauliflowers, leaves, carrots etcetera. I know this is healthy but now on this Singapore sojourn I have only been eating peanuts! Hahaha! Many people close to me know that I munch on these like a squirrel does on acorns. I try and eat as little as possible during trips because I am not able to work out. I do venture sometimes on the occasional piece of meat or pig out on some chips but that’s it. I really am determined on getting as wan as I can but this time only without the help of diet pills - that deadly medication which I was on not less than 2 years ago. Nobody really advised me on quitting those. I just felt it was high time to dispose of them and take on a healthier route towards becoming fit and hopefully thin.

I have been doing a lot of yoga back home. Basically my biggest expenditure has been my fitness when I was back home. I play badminton three times a week and I do yoga three times a week and that means I only ever have one rest day - all in the name of getting that Evelyn Salt gauntness and figure hahahaha. But it has been very good for me and my body and my overall circulation. The yoga teachers are lovely and wonderful and they encourage me to push myself further. All my friends compliment me on my more toned figure and applaud me on how fit I have gotten. The thing though is, when I leave the yoga studio, every little thing I do and learn there flies out the window. I do not practice it at home or anywhere else except in that sweaty factory of beautiful bodies. That explains why I eat less when I am away from the Philippines. It’s just compensation basically.

Yes I am due for a crash anytime these days. (And I hope you're there to save me when I do! hahahaa!) I do not know why but I am very fond of putting myself into overdrive and really testing my physical capabilities. I am restless and I am very active and so this restlessness manifests in many ways. I guess I can conclude that this is my body telling me that because I am not working out, you will have to work out in another way. Anyway I do work out a lot but I have company with me to do this hahahahahaha…this doesn’t make it all bad right?

G.B juice

There must be an appeal to simplicity and innocence that has long been lost somewhere deep within me. I am appreciative of sophistication and innovativeness of thought but I am fairly well-balanced enough to realize that naivete can sometimes be an outlet for an otherwise laser-paced lifestyle.

Welcome to my love of the Gummi Bears! Hahaha Childish I know but relatively humorous and playful which is why I love them! These cartoon characters actually were cast in an animated series which was broadcasted around my formative year-period. So watching them probably could have contributed to my overall childhood development which of course we all know is very crucial to later years of personality formation.

Enough of these technical rather cognitive psychology-sounding terms and on with the fun! There are real moments where I actually regress to my inner kid-hood and pig out on episode after episode after episode of the Adventures of the Gummi Bears. They’re a family of bears living in a pretty rustic but comfortable home underneath the ground safe and away from the human populace. They could have just looked like plain-looking bears with human attributes given they could talk and wear human-ish clothes except that they had Gummiberry juice, a magical liquid concoction which they carry in their pockets and belt-bags which when drank could make them jump and bounce as high as they wanted and with absolute flexibility. When drank by human beings it rendered them incredible strength. The potion was a brew manufactured with instructions from the annals of a book of magic potions and handed down from generation to generation of Gummi Bears.

It was their number one weapon, stronger than any ammunition they ever had because it gave them guile, speed, and superbear powers which they normally wouldn’t have without it. Their number one enemy was the Duke Sigmund Igthorn and his army of ogre soldiers who I think were also ravenous for bear flesh and carrion which is why the king found them easy to manipulate. Igthorn’s number one motivation though was to get a hold of the formulae for Gummiberry juice because he was well aware of the inhuman strength it gave to human beings and ogres when they drank it.

They had human friends too in the form of Princess Calla and Cavin, the boy who first discovered their lair and the Gummi Bears. Nobody ever knew about the existence of Gummi Bears though except for the aforementioned characters. They always seemed to melt into the background as soon as other human characters came into the picture. I guess it was to their advantage too because humans would have found them abominable for their anthropomorphism.

When I look into my addiction to this cartoon series I realize and I will dispute my earlier perspective, I think they’re not really stress valves for me, they’re actually part of my personality - loquacious and bubbly, talkative and slightly humorous. Sometimes I can say I have a devil-may-care attitude at certain points in my life but it is highly unlikely to manifest itself for a long time. This probably explains the gaps in the indulgence of viewing reruns of this animated series.

Ahhh of course nothing beats watching them when I was a kid. Memories come flooding back! Those afternoons of rushing home from school to be able to catch an episode before Mum shuts down the TV for homework to take over our monotonous weekday schedule. Sitting on the floor of our crude house with cousins watching the Gummi Bears was one of the many pleasures I have kept in my treasurebox of memories. It was good to digest such nonsense before our brain had to readjust to process school assignments and memorization!!! Haha now I am an adult and I have the power to watch them everytime I choose to. But somehow it feels different from before, and I wonder why….

Priceless....

I guess when it hits you it really does. This was the fate that befell our heroine, Audrey Tatou in the attractive French film, “Hors de Prix.” The title means “Priceless” in English. This is one of the flicks I have seen this year which I really adore because of the nonchalance of the pace of the film as well as the relevance to my so-called life! Hehehee….

There was a period of time earlier this year when I became crazy about French films. There was a charm to the language that appealed to me and the only way I could see and listen to French people talk for an extended period of time was to watch their films. There is the fact of course that there are many attractive French actors who help my cause and well many of their films also have interesting plots. There is just a certain styleto the way French films are made which make them unique but not necessarily appealing to mainstream viewers.

Irene (Audrey Tatou) is a gold-digging hooker who has a sugar daddy, Jacques, who buys her everything – Chanel dresses and shoes, expensive jewelry and five star accommodation. She was an expert at what she did and well what with her attractive face and finesse, she is quite the catch herself. Honestly in my opinion if not for the short dresses she wore and her excessive flashing of cleavage, she would never be mistaken for a prostitute because she was fantastically “ravissante!” and simply did not look the type.

All that high-class lifestyle ends when she meets Jean, a rather clueless but moderately attractive barman/waiter/driver in a hotel who was mistaken by Irene to be someone rich. They end up in bed twice, the last of which proved to be Irene’s undoing and fall from grace – Jacques finding out about her indiscretions. She gets thrown out of his life – credit card, diamond ring etcetera and all…

And her suffering culminate when shefinds out that Jean is a mere blue-collar worker, not the high roller she thought him to be. She flees to Nice to seek her fortunes once again, mini-skirt, cleavage and that gorgeous face as ammunition. Problem is she can’t seem to shake off Jean who has taken a fancy to her and followed her there. He initially thinks he has a chance with her and continues to woo her, fast becoming a nuisance. She punishes him by first pretending to be interested in her for a couple of days while stripping him off of everything – using his credit card to buy Gucci, Chanel etcetera. He ends up penniless and was about to be turned over onto the hands of policemen for failing to pay his hotel debt when a sudden twist of fate stepped in the form of an extremely rich, high society but older woman, Mrs. Pontini, who takes a fancy to him. His cluelessness and simplicity seem to press buttons in her. He becomes her boy-toy and companion throughout her stay in Nice. She takes him under her wing and starts to shower him with everything – expensive shirts and watches, a fancy scooter etcetera.

Jean, though, continues to hang onto his fascination with Irene. Irene has found another sugar daddy in the same hotel so they ran into each other constantly and Irene realizes she has found an equal in him. She teaches him the twists and turns of being a good escort, devious ways to hook your client. The golden rule of escorting is to extract as much as you can before your benefactor dumps you and moves on. They become fast friends as a result and throughout the film find moments of togetherness, exchanging ideas and comparing purchases made for them by their clients. Irene though does not realize she is slowly starting to fall for his innocent and unsophisticated ways.

The loveliest part of the film, deservingly, takes place when Irene meets Jacques again, her benefactor at the beginning of the film. It is at a party where many so called high-society people attend. Jacques is with another woman and Irene dons her revenge gear on. She convinces Jean, who has become more obsessed with her than ever after spending the night at a lovely beach in the outskirts of town, to seduce Jacques’ companion and teach him a lesson for throwing her out over a year ago. They trick her into believing he is a rich man – a familiar scheme. The girl falls for the trap and dumps Jacques, escorting Jean to his room. Jacques sees his woman go off with another man andsomehow sees this an opportunity to reunite with Irene. He decides he has forgiven her and tries to take a stab at being with her again. In their first-ever conversation after a year he asks Irene to keep him company throughout the week. But Irene realizes she has fallen head-over-heels in love with the young, simpleton, Jean, and she tells Jacques her future plans, “l’amoure!” (love!) and runs into the hotel corridor to stop Jean from ending up in bedwith Jacque’s original companion. The end sees them both riding into the uncertainty of the future but immersed in love and together at last.

Of course I believe the greatest lesson in the film is material things never suffice to satisfy our most important personal needs. The most essential things in life are the ones that are unseen, realities that transcend the more materialistic aspects of life. Perhaps another unspoken lesson is tenacity and grit can get you to a lot of places and afford you a lot of things. When you hang onto something and exercise patience, eventually it will become yours. Look at what Jean eventually earned, love and happiness….

An archive of sensual moments...

Enough of the morbid trend of writing I have been immersing myself in the last coupla weeks! It’s distressing and I am quite aware we need a bit of these moments of pondering and darkness in our lives but what can we do? We have our very own lives to live and we need to move on with ardor and assertion.

Let’s talk erotic! Mmmmmm… I have never been open about this part of my life and the few times I have been flirtatious and loose with the profanity it has been done with a lackadaisical humor which really does do the topic much in terms of seriousness. But erotic it is for the moment. I am sure I have more male viewership in this tiny space of mine than any other portion of the populace in this planet so I am going to try very hard to be as liberal as I can and avoid the political correctness that plagues most articles of this nature.

I’d like to think I am pleasing my man when I orgasm for him but more often than not I find myself thinking of the other men I have been with to achieve that sort of culmination! How’s that for an opening statement! Hahahaha. There are always sexual exploits that brand themselves in my mind far deeper than others and these are the moments I touch on when I want to climax. Think reruns of episodes of erotica from my past moments in my Wonderland of an imagination and you pretty much have an idea of what I sometimes do to get a libidinal high.

I know it’s a guilty pleasure that probably does not please the person I am currently with. Now I feel like shit! It may sort of disappoint him because I am thinking of other men when he is the one physically with me. I sort of sympathize with him on that but I hope he does not burden himself too much about this. This is because more often than not he may be part of the next episode of reruns when I climax next hahaha!!! And anyway what’s wrong with guilt? There will always be guilt in a sexual encounter don’t you think? hahahahaha

The thing is because I am very sexual and sensual how I define who and what constitutes these episodes that emblazon themselves in the sensuous corners of my brain is a very gray area-ish matter (no pun intended). There’s an episode where an exhibitionistic Englishman was making love to me from the balcony of his pad in Shanghai. Another could be a Frenchman’s fascination with licking my feet and worshipping the Nubian goddess that I am. An equally amusing moment would be me giving head to an American in a fire exit here in mall in sunny Singapore…Ohhh now that was casual and bordering on the dangerous side! I can conjure a whole lineup of beautiful scenarios! Danger, novelty, obsession, abandon appear to be key elements to many passionate moments I have archived! My God I am naughty!!!

Anyway with all this talk about indulging in beautiful sensual moments of the past and tinkering with my imagination, I AM DEFINITELY not taking the credit away from the magic of the NOW and the HERE. When I am with someone I often take in the surroundings, the atmosphere, the lights playing with the folds of the curtain, my beholder’s eyes, his movements…I hope that the boys I meet in the future do not underestimate the power of physical presence for nothing pleases me more than the effort of being present, being real and being there for me. That in itself is worth more than any episode in my library of cerebral erotica…:-)

adieu too soon...

He was always so vibrant, so energetic, so loquacious and oh so full of life. And yet he is gone now. The world has claimed yet again another friend close to my heart. Hades has exacted his judgement and taken one of my dearest friends. This time this hit closer to home because we really had many fantastic moments together and we have shared pure, unadulterated laughter during the couple of times we have been together.

He was like a lover I would return to whenever I came to Bangkok in Thailand. He had based himself there for more than four years without ever stepping foot back in Cebu once in that same period. I was always amazed at his grit and tenacity to hang on to solitude in a foreign land without seeing close friends and family back home in the Philippines. This was always one feat I admired of him among many attributes he possessed. I labelled him a lover because he seemed to always bring a smile to my face, to infuse fun into an otherwise melancholic day, to find joy in the most minute and the unnecessarily monotonous moments. I valued his opinion and outlook like an author reads his critics. He was always fantastic company when we were together.

He was a whirlwind, a virago of speech and activity. I remember one time in Khao San, the number one backpacker destination in Bangkok and den to many cute and attractive foreign, young faces, he danced in a popular bar like there was nobody else in this world to the amazement, disgust, awe, wonder, and curiosity of the young backpacker crowd who were not dancing but just watching him. It was a hilarious but FUNNY moment. I was smiling and laughing along with him, enjoying the moment of spotlight and attention and yet keeping in the background while he took the flak as well as the kudos and attention and reveled in it! Then I remembered the two of us walking and turning the skywalks of Bangkok into our catwalk, talking as if there were only the two of us in the world with our boisterousness and tactlessness while walking like models in the hot and sweaty city.

One of our favorite hobbies everywhere but most especially while riding the Skytrain was to talk in front of Thais and foreigners alike in the native Cebuano tongue, critique-ing , discussing, praising, flirting and in the parlance of yours truly, "talking behind their backs in front of them!" :) Ohh I treasure those moments! And then I remember one of the rare instances we got serious was when we watched my first movie ever in Bangkok last year, "AntiChrist" which I wrote a blog about last year. He donned his film critic glasses and praised the acting and intensity of the actors in the movie. It was one of the rare insights I had into the serious side of his personality. But then again he always became a bit more sedate when he had sleepless nights or 26-hour days and I would ask to see him or he happened to be in the city and we shared cups of coffee or tea together. These times were rare though. I could very well define him as a fantastic mixture of vegetables simmering in hot soup with all the right sauces in our favorite restaurant in all of Bangkok, MK!!! God I miss him....:-(

The last time I saw him was in January this year, yes in Bangkok. He was on this insane streak of vegetarianism and had become slimmer than the last time I saw him. He seemed fit and healthy to me but of course I am the worst judge of fitness given I adore extreme thinness and starve excessively. But I would never have suspected he had an ailment during that time. I am afraid he indulged in too many activities that sometimes were very excessive, wasteful and too bacchanalian even for me, which I did not approve of which of course I will not disclose here. However I respect that every person deserves an outlet, a valve to let the steam out and I love him to bits to disapprove of it right in front of the person. I wonder though if this reliance and complacence on him being able to handle his lifestyle was fundamental to his eventual detriment.

I did not know he had stepped on Philippine shores until it was too late. Our mutual friend in Bangkok asked me too look at his profile on a silly networking site on the internet and voila! I found facts and fallacies all fabricated for the eyes by people who claimed to have seen or heard news of his demise. It was wrenching for me to learn this from an idiotic site which we all worship but which amounts to nothing when positioned against the realities of everyday life. How did I not know this was coming? How did I fail to follow up on how he was? How could I rely on him being visible and being in the background at all times ready to chat me up whenever I called his name? Lend his presence in Bangkok whenever I happened to go up there for some cosmetic plumbing or hormone restocking? I am at fault in so many angles and yet if he chose to swathe his deterioration in a cloak of mystery and speculation what could I do?

One thing I can say is that, "This is one of the biggest losses of my life." I may be insignificant to him in the sense that he never told me his whereabouts during the last weeks of his life but I can take comfort in the fact that he may have avoided telling me his most painful moments because the memory he wanted ME to keep of him was the cheerful, active and humorous friend I knew him to be during our moments together. Rest in utter happiness my friend, because you were so selfless in giving it to me. Thank you so much Omar....:)

the myth in facts :D

After having watched a National Geographic

Premier presentation on this rainy, miserable Sunday night here at home, I was compelled to touch my blog after more than two weeks of not having written anything at all. Gosh has it been that long? I wonder why I'm compelled to blog when I am in either miserable or ravenous mode these days hahahaha

The town of Candido Godoi in faraway rural Brazil has seen itself catapulted to international attention for the staggering number of twins in their town population of only 7,000 people. The farming community is a quite little town with many members having German descent. As to the question why this particular place on Earth has seen the biggest percentage of twins in comparison to its meagre population, many rather crude explanations are offered by its people while in the eyes of sensationalism there is a deeper and more historic origin to this phenomenon.

Josef Mengele, was the chief doctor at the Birkenau extermination camp in Poland. He, along with other medicial practitioners in the camp were responsible for sifting and identifying which prisoners were fit for work and which ones seemed incapable - doomed for the gas chambers. It was alleged that the nickname "Angel of Death" was accorded to him by camp inmates because when he stood on the platform inspecting new arrivals and directing some to the right, some to the left, his white coat and white arms outstretched evoked the image of a white angel. Josef's medical obsession though was the study of twins and he carefully aligned this interest with how he could scientifically create for the Nazi regime an Aryan race which was superior to the rest of the world while catering to his own obsession - producing them in multitude - twinning. He had access to the ultimate test subjects - human captives. His experiments were described as butchery at its most inhuman state. All done in the pursuit of the mystery of twins and how they were created.

When the Nazi era came to an end with the marching of the Soviets onto Nazi territory, Mengele fled to South America and sought refuge there. There in the capital of Argentina, Buenos Aires, Mengele's trail began to fade away and at this point myth slowly dissolved the edges of reality as to his whereabouts and activities. But research by the National Geographic team led to finding out he really did settle around certain points around Brazil, Paraguay and Argentina. It was alleged he worked as a veterinarian and went around treating bovine around a significant number of farms all around Brazil. He also apparently and with testimonial evidence from the people he came into contact with, worked with pregnant women and prescribed and supplied them medications. These series of events sparked the belief that he did continue to carry out his experiments and on a more realistic scale too as he was working with civilians already and not in a controlled laboratory setting. Then mention of him coming over to Candido Godoi and actually providing medical treatments for animals and individuals there had historians, scientists and investigators alluding to the fact that he may have played an instrumental role in the spiraling of the twin population in the said town. This is the vantage point of the National Geographic Program.

But despite all the speculations and startling evidences pointing to him actually practicing some form of medicine, there were also testimonies and even his infamous black bag filled with the detritus of a man-on-the-run, concluding that HE never did any medical work when he was in South America. The families and people who he lived with all throughout his refuge in South America all affirm this fact. In the end the National Geographic program concluded that Mengele DID not play any function in the unusual number of twins in Candido Godoi. The pundits all point to SCIENCE as the main adjudicator to this mystery and the program ended with genetic experiments conducted and samples taken to be filed away for a much-awaited conclusion and perhaps an answer to the eternal mystery of twin births in human existence.

I would say that it was a miserable ending to an otherwise fascinating program. The mystery lover in me was bitterly disappointed that such a program could end in such a cookie-cutter way. I was wondering what the implications would have been if he was indeed responsible for the twin mystery in the small village. It would have caused a sensational explosion in worldwide media as well as in medical science. But the moral implications would have been enormous too. It would have been quite a show!!! Now the show is over and the balloon has blown right in my face.

minor incidences of homosexuality :)

What is the definition of happiness?

Happiness is too broad a term to ever be defined in one statement. At this point in my life I tend to think of it as minor incidents and small instances that snowball into one big avalanche that overwhelm me and makes me feel so blessed to have many of the good things in life.

Happiness is that feeling of confusion between procuring that Fendi bag I've had my eyes on for the longest time OR that Gucci mini boston I just saw while browsing on Frida Giannini's website yesterday. I do not like muddling my mind too much over such petty little things but hey this is a minor incident of happiness. So if it makes me happy then these feelings of uncertainty over which arm candy to buy must be..that's right a minor incident of happiness!!

Happiness is a delicious hot chocolate drink. Neither too sweet nor too bland, this is the perfect cup. Not too small so that the moment of orgasm in my palate goes too quick to cherish and not too massive a dose so that I'll lose the sense of taste for anything other than sweet pieces of confection. And to drink it on a rainy day with a nice book or my laptop to keep me company while browsing interesting subjects on the web -ahhh another minor incident of happiness!

Happiness is Figo, my beloved puppy! The only one who seems to understand and receive love without subterfuge! He who pisses me off when he shits on an unwanted spot, but peppers or drowns me with kisses whenever I bring him up from the floor! His fluffy hair, feet that are too big for his size, his stoutness make him such an overwhelmingly beautiful creature to me, it makes me burst with joy and pride. He has encompassed being just a toy and has become a real boyfriend who is emotionally uncomplicated and insatiably horny (at least for the stuffed toys he humps several times a day) hahahahha!

Happiness is a beautiful sports match. An excellent game with fantastic high-quality shotmaking and superb tactical play is always a beauty to watch. You know I am probably referring to tennis but not all of the time as I CAN enjoy a variety of sports too. To be glued to the television because of all that excellent play and athletic charisma is a minor incident of happiness to these eyes.

Happiness is the knowledge that my ex-boyfriend of a loser is penniless and cannot even fly budget to Asia to kill me HAHAHA. He hates me so much but cannot do anything about it that he just conjures up these idiotic pointless email addresses and sends me emails asking for updates on my whereabouts and my future schedule. Isn't that pathetic? Spending 108% of your time plotting somebody's demise, stalking her blog and following her every move online! Get a life outside your immersion in cocaine and cheap, distasteful Guinness beer please! Hahahaha...That fact alone that he is still the social outcast that he is...borders on being a MAJOR incident of Happiness but I'd consider it a minor one because there's more to life than hating someone LOL...oopss did I just refute the whole idea of this paragraph from this last thought???


Happiness is that perplexing feeling I get whenever a man I just met and spent time with makes me feel too special so that I start to think I may be on the verge of insanity or on the crest of emotional euphoria! When i dream about him when I am just beside him? Isn't that the very epitome of extreme attraction?? hahahaha I am pathetic in this aspect of my life. I have never really been able to take charge of my emotions properly. There is no moderation when it comes to handling my feelings, it's either intimacy overdrive or total ignorance of the person! NOW that is one minor incident of happiness too!


You might be asking me why the title to this entry? You're probably thinking she must have gone over the edge to attach such an irrelevant phrase to an otherwise well-written blog.

WELL it's not totally pointless I think. Because one of my minor incidents of happiness during the past week has been BEING able to finally and satisfactorily, at least to MYSELF, put an explanation to the uncanny phenomena over WHETHER the men I see are mutations of what we respectfully call homosexuals or straight guys looking for a kink other than a wet fleshy pocket in front of them during their moments of estrus and repressed libations. I told my PAPI (a Deutsche friend), who I spent two days with last week, that these encounters with my kind are what I would call minor incidences of homosexuality! This doesn't stain or mar their Van-Damme, macho, arrow-straight image which society has stamped on them based on appearance, demeanor, characteristic and upbringing. It just means they immerse in these minor incidents because a kink is a kink is a kink. Falling in love with TSgirl like me would fall into another topic though! And therefore another blog entry hahahaha which my addled mind cannot handle as of now...:)


So everyone, find your minor incidents of happiness and roll them together, tack them all to your wall, gather them all in a basket so YOU MAY find your own euphoria, that which makes life worth living for you!!!!

on repeat mode...:)

Love love love love this unique-sounding song....

And there are two versions. The first one is the one on repeat mode on my playahh!!!

MTV Shows

Relevance in Discord...

Who was it who said all rationality goes out the window when you are in the hazy and intoxicating presence of someone you have desired for so long? I don't think anybody penned that quote but I suppose something similar has come up in the annals of literary history. Nevertheless these words are not enough to describe this feeling of emotional inertia gone topsy-turvy inside me. Ohh how to shake this off and move on to the normal pace of living I had been accustomed to!

As I write this entry, I am listening to the soothing voice of a female jazz artist, the soft but firm background of piano, bass, acoustics etcetera accompanying her. It is an organized mess which weaves waves of tone and symphony around the abode I am in. It is tres fantastic, molto inspiring and mucho magnifico. It is making my fingers type and my mind think of moments. Moments gone by and frozen in the corners of my tired brain. Memory will take care of these tokens and hopefully turn them into indelible prints which I can glance at when the past beckons me to abandon the stresses of the present.

Did I tell you about my arcane fixation on men's forear

ms? I love to hold a man's hands, that portion between his hand and his elbow...they are emblems of a man's strength, character, predisposition. Feel his veins, the throbbing of them, it melts me in an unknown way. I know this, the feeling is still palpable...I just held a man's arms this way not so long ago and it was paradise! Strange I know but so positively

me...

It is beautiful to rant and ramble like this. I haven't done it in a long time I think unless I was chopping somebody's head off and making fun of somebody. It is nice to just lay off the steam from the pressure valves like this. Leave intellectuality for a while and just let my hair down. This is therapeutic, this is great

Going back to tearing people to shreds here in my wonderful little space on the net, I can say iI am way past all that now. I can say I am more mellow, a bit more mature, not necessarily friendly but probably less belligerent and a lot more understanding. Although the insanity is still here. Still I think I have managed to parlay myself into a being who has more substance now. Someone who unleashes herself at the right time and definitely in more personal and unobtrusive circumstances.

I think I will stop thinking when I am with him. What we have is something akin to discord in harmony. You know what I mean? There is a detachment to reality when I am in his arms. Yet it is so real and it is so strange and everything we do is spontaneous. He has his kinks and I have mine. We reach a middle ground. There is our harmony.

Ahhh to ramble like this....like a salve to the senses...

I've got you under my skin....I have got you deep in the heart of me..So deep in my heart that....beautiful last song to end my senseless tirade on this warm little space of mine...

uncomplicated joys...

The greatest compliment you can pay yourself is to surprise YOU! Yes, I can say that because I experienced that just today, despite concerns of being uncomfortable, missing a ladies' singles 3rd round match on tennis TV, bringing too little or too much food among a lengthy list of worries. I decided to pull myself together and friends to accomplish something that was ordinarily so not me!


I have too many acquaintances and friends to put together in one room so let alone track all of them. They're all over the place, some of them are in government work, call centers, the entertainment industry etcetera. There are people who tend to lead the more mundane, lackluster but rather comfortable life while there are people I know who have led wayward lifestyles and a few of them have had brushes with the law. Some of them have been unfortunate enough to be doing time in jail for trespasses proven by a court of law or anything resembling legality in any form.






This was originally a friend's idea and he had mentioned it to me but it took root in my mind rather steadfastly. It was something I could not remove that easily from my thoughts and the longer I thought about it, the more it took on flesh and blood. He proposed visiting a few of our friends from the gay/Ts community in Mandaue City who were unluckily in prison right now for a variety of crimes. It would just be a simple visit to check on them, chat them for a bit, bring them a bit of food which I am sure they were not able to enjoy inside, he said. I said YES because it sounded easy enough but you all know that feeling when we approve of something rather quickly when it's imposed on us all of a sudden and then when the rational "US" takes over, apprehension takes over and lots of questions form in our minds. But then for me this wasn't the case. As the days unraveled the whole idea just suddenly became uncomplicated and more elementary when I thought about it, covered all the loopholes I myself created and answered all my own questions.



So it was all systems go. My friend has this tendency to procrastinate but we decided to do it today, Sunday, the 30th of the month. I prepared food to bring with us. I had to unlock his lazy knot and nudge him off of his sleep by giving him a call and then we were on our way.



Prison has its own protocol and we soon learned it even before we set foot inside. There were no objects of questionable appearance and shape allowed inside. We had to leave our cellphones in the car. They tasted my bubblegum to make sure it was just gum and checked on my credit cards on the assumption perhaps that they might be sharp enough to warrant as weapons? It bordered on the ridiculous but I am sure experience is on their side and they would probably have been prepped to play the percentages and make sure nothing illegal could be exchanged inside. That is pretty understandable to me.



The conditions inside the city jail were not the best if I may be allowed to say so. There are at least 8 people tucked into one room there with every possible space maximized. Double-decked beds and tiny tables and chairs of every imaginable shape and size were tucked into tiny cells. Was it Lilliput on a slightly more human scale? The place was packed with too many people. I felt quite disturbed though that I was actually inside the jail. My mind programmed the occasion to take place in some receiving area within the building. I would be talking to my prison friends seated on wooden chairs, food on a white, lengthy table and the place reasonably ventilated from the open space. Too many prison movies logged onto my mind perhaps? Reality bit too hard as I was really really surprised to find myself and friends INSIDE an actual prison cell and talking to our gay friends who were doing time there.



There were lots of stories to tell. They did most of the talking but it was intoxicating being a whiteboard that just soaked everything in. The number one topic of course was MEN and how they were inside the prison. It was unusual and perhaps discombobulating to know that they were treated as women inside and were accorded the respect and dignity they deserve (as women!!). Many of them have "husbands" inside and there were ''marriage contracts" and "divorces" too which facilitated laughter and fascination in a hazy mix from US, the listeners. There was a lot of sex but you could not be a "whore" inside prison because men who are attached to you get jealous when you hook up with another person. Someone was bound to tell if you were playing two fields and things get around rather quickly. Fights would break out over lovers quite easily, they said. They talked about pageants and this brought on a healthier participation on both sides as most of them were curious to know about the goings-on outside. Of course what would a gay/TS conversation be without comments on how you look or how fat or thin you have become? Not to mention the standard gossip about people, places and events and significant banter about rather insignificant things hehehhe



It is easy to get caught up on the stories and sometimes even flash an enviable stare or two at them because of the abundance of men inside but reality sets in when you think about their highly regimented life, quality of living and health inside and lack of freedom to compartmentalize your life the way you want it organized. When they talk about the kind and the amount of food they were being fed, the food I brought took on an ambrosia-like quality that I never thought was there. When we bought them cigarettes it was as if manna had fallen from heaven. They went insane over a few sticks of cigarettes. Reality is everything that we could easily procure outside took a bit more effort to acquire inside. When they talked about punishment I cringed at the thought that they were castigated with a weapon made out of rubber, and steel which inflicted purplish welts on one's body. These are realities that put things into perspective. There is a reason why my friends were there and there is a reason why the place exists.



This was a very powerful experience for me. And what happened in the hour and a half we were there is still unraveling and being absorbed by my conscious and subconscious thoughts right now. The place was another dimension and an entity on its own. This was a different experience because I realized that there was a microcosm there with realities and characters that provided my friends brief moments of comfort and even affection. It was a different experience because the appreciation for many things I have became magnified. It was a different experience because the malleability of the human character shows when negative experiences lead you to learn life the hard way, you learn to adjust, you learn to mold yourself into something you would never have thought was possible.....



I totally surprised myself by getting out of the box known as my comfort zone and doing this for people who were mere acquaintances. I guess it did not matter their proximity to my circle of friends but I can say this is how charity takes form. You do something because you believe in a cause and the reasons behind doing it are sufficient and important enough for you to take action. I would say this is a compliment to myself because I realize afterwards I am capable of more than my fair share of abilities. I can stretch myself to do things I would never have thought was possible and it makes me happy to know this....



The most memorable moment I had while I was there was seeing a neighbor I used to see very often when I was still going out a lot. We were not that close but I just knew him by frequency of sight. He was extremely young and I was shocked to find him there. It turns out he was in jail for killing someone a couple of years ago. He and friends were involved in a brawl quite close to where I lived and it led to something fatal. He told me nobody had visited him for two years now. It was a sad reality for someone so young. I was quite disturbed though by this one question I asked him the first time I saw him. It still bugs me even up to this moment I am writing this entry. It was simple enough though, nothing complicated, none of the obtuse ideas that come right out of my head...... "Why are you here?" .....

What used to be a slice of heaven...

In an obscure little corner about a block from where I live is a slice of heaven on Earth. There is a narrow, short alley leading to this paradise, sort of strange considering how positively ugly the pathway looked with ordinary cement walls on both sides and how extraordinary the place it led to was. This was from way back in my childhood days when the sun was a friend and we were tireless and taut. I would often go there with my cousins to buy beautiful little creatures that we put in our aquariums and tiny little ponds.



I could still very well remember the owner's name. We called him Mr. Vic. HE seemed like a magician to me. He had the "water" thumb. He sold and bred freshwater fishes of almost all varieties. Everywhere in his little nook where small, beautiful, green ponds filled with the most vibrant and beautiful fishes I have ever seen. There were platys, swordtails, carps and kois, plecostomuses, mollies, barbs among so many things. His ponds were very tastefully decorated too with well-placed lotuses and weeds. Fishes of all sizes swam and glided gracefully along the moss-covered bottoms and their leafy surroundings. There were canopy-like stretches of trees to keep his charming little nook cool and sort of darkish which added to the mystique of the place in my imagination.



It was all just so overwhelming for me that I thought I could never leave this place. I even thought of living there as his surrogate daughter or his son for old times' sake haha! It would have been a perfect scenario for me. I guess it was my love for everything fluid and aquatic and placid which had me thrilled to be always going there and spending a considerable time before leaving. I was penniless way back then and I could not buy too many of his finned merchandise...




As I look back from the outside at this place now that I am older, a bit more mature and perhaps with some cynicism to me, I've often thought how time has slipped by too fast for me to forget that I used to marvel at how beautiful this place used to be. How does it look inside now? I probably would never get a chance to see it considering it is closed in the evenings and I am now most of the time a creature of the night and the sun has become an enemy? Is the man still alive and does he still have the magic in him? Does the place still hold an allure to me if I am led to it again? Maybe it will hold a different meaning for me now that I have experienced too many things, both bad and good? It might be a cure for my depressive episodes these days or an abomination of a reminder from my once-monotonous childhood days?




Isn't life ironic? Now that I'm earning money it seems I have almost lost my desire for the beautiful, little things in his mystical, little nook? Or is this indicative of deeper things such as a general disinterest for so many things that I used to like? Have I lost my passion for the simpler joys that the world has to offer? Maybe this is the process of moving on to more fruitful endeavors or have I just lost myself in the tepid, murky waters of time and life?