Fighting Evil

Reflected eyes, refracted tears, and a shattered face lies behind the shattered mirror. And a laugh that resonates within my head; where did it come from? Its not my own; is it? I know youre standing behind me again. In this darkness I can just barely make out your silhouetted reflection. But those eyes; those unmistakable brown eyes, their glow is magnified by the reflection in the mirror. In the eerie yellow light my faults are illuminated, distorted, exaggerated; and Im once again reminded of how ugly I really am. I think there was a time when I had been beautiful, wasnt there? I cant really remember now. I know if I turned around I would not see you, your reflection would be behind me; but I cant turn around. I dont want to face you again.

release me from thee

I dont want you, I dont need you anymore. And yet youre still there, staring, whispering in that subconscious language that reminds me of all the things I hate about myself, and hate about my existence. Youre taking great pleasure in watching me slowly die, watching me fall apart. You are a part of me though, were too connected. I know you wont just go away, you cant, and I hate myself for it, as much as I hate you.

So now I stand staring at your reflection, trembling in anticipation for your strike. Waiting patiently for the pain I know too well. This was always your favorite part, as my sanity deteriorates; you wait for me to snap.

Shattered glass, a shattered mind, Id kill myself just to watch you die. You know my intentions, my every thought, as I slowly pull a shard of glass from the broken mirror. Youre allowing this to happen arent you? Surely you have to know. This is probably just another part of your game. I dont care if I win or lose; I just want the game to end now. In a heart beat I was turned around. In a heartbeat the glass was forced into your belly, almost severing my fingers as I pushed it in. In a heartbeat I was thrown to the corner of the room by the sharp, excruciating pain in my stomach. In this heartbeat; I think its my last. My hand, my stomach, spilling blood, the pain, the hopelessness, the hatred; I began to cry.

I was the one crying in pain, the blood collecting on the floor below me, but as I looked up I saw that you were the one dying. I crawled over to you, the blood on the floor sticking to my hands and knees. I sat next to you, watching you, already missing you. I hated you as I hated myself, but I loved you as I loved myself. The fears began to die and the loneliness began to set in. And I realize that you were both the worst of me, and the best of me. You werent there whenever things were going good, just so you could fuck it all up. You were always there, through everything. I placed one hand behind me on the floor, slightly splashing the puddle of blood as I set it down; with the other hand I began to touch your horns, your grotesque face; nothing more then a reflection of my own. There is hope as Im watching you die, joy even as the tears are rolling down my face. Im no longer scared of you, but now Im scared of the future. What does this mean for me? Am I to sink further into apathy without you? Or maybe, could I possibly become beautiful again?

follow the leader

The future has always been a blur for me. I've never been one to plan ahead. Situations that require a decision have always been avoided at all costs, and if one needed to be made it was procrastinated to the very last possible second. I don't really believe in tomorrow.

Nobody really expected much from me. I'm a bit disappointed that I haven't let them down. We all dream that we will become something someday. The few that do are like a child given a bag of candy, they don't truly saver each piece, and they act as though they've always had it. However those who realize that their dreams will never come true are shaken by a defeat that drives them into the ground in a lifelong struggle of regret and depression. And the rest of us trudge on in a constant pursuit of unattainable dreams planted into our childhood, until we die poor, disgraced, unproductive, and underachieved.


I'm standing at a fork in the road and I don't know which way to go. I don't know where I'm going, and the sign at the fork offers no help as each name doesn't mean any more to me then the next. I've put off the decision as long as possible, but I'm out of time. Each path appears to hold a longed for dream. But maybe they all just circle back around and I'm just chasing my tail trying to find a meaning to a universe that the mind simply cannot fathom. Or maybe I should just stop whining, get back in line, and join everyone else in their self-destructive game of follow-the-leader.

Cinderella

Its a Special Non Working Holiday yesterday in honor of the end of the Ramadan of our Muslim Brothers throughout the world. So the night before that - me, my mom and mantra decided to go to the mall on the following day, so we did.

My mom is buying me a pair of new snickers!

Actually it was the third attampt I think, that we went to a mall and hunt for a pair. But the last two eneded on a scene of us going home empty handed. Its not that Filipinoes panicked buy all the snickers and there's no available stock to take home with us. There are actually quite a number to choose from and all the color one can possible imagine, specially that of the line of Converse that even have a loud fuschia colored rubber shoes. We came home empty handed simply because most of the times i feel guilty about the cost of the pair i like, costing around Php 3,000 to Php 5,000 a apir. Its simply too much for my conscience to bare.

Don't get me wrong I am not one of those 'brand concious bitches'. Actually the last pair i am wearing for four months now i think cost me only Php 250. Well its me, i can wear anything and that incluides scrapped clothing and apparel without minding if it doesnt even cost a nickel, ha!

But i always tend to feel guilty about buying this 'well valued commodities' for myself. I can spend and splurge money for gifts and items for family, friends and yes including my domestic partner but i would feel extremely guilty if i am spending for myself. Double that guilt when i have someone buying me a gift or something. Specially on this case, its my mom buying for me.

12 Year - FlashBack

"My mom and I live almost under a HiWay Bridge on a small hut that she is renting from her friend. Literally owing only a 100 watts Incandescent Bulb. My mom and dad decided to go on seperate ways since I was three with my tatay (dad) having his own 'new' family, with my younger sister living with him.

I was still studying then via a scholarship grant my high school teachers endorsed me into."

It has been a struggle for me and nanay (mom) and believe me, until this day 2we dont know how we survive, I guess fate did smile upon us."

I am still feeling guilty trying a pair from the shelve knowing how much these beauties would cost.

"Go ahead, take your pick." my mom

So not for us to get into another arguement like we did with the last time, I tried a skecher, i dont like really and i know it would not fit me - the size is obviously to big for me. And I know that there is nothing smaller than that display. "Smallest Size on Display, Ha!"

As expected, it does not fit! Thanks to my size "6" pair, hahaha. I got a small pair really, that earn me the title: THE MYTH BREAKER! (recall this silly thingy about the size of your feet and the size of your wank! lolz!)

I was looking at another pair by Merrell this time, when the CS (customer service) approach me and asked to try it on.

"Got a size 6 on your black stock?"

No Sir. But Please try this blue one first. And feel the comfort.

This time i'll make the color the excuse.

"Sad that you dont have a black one,"

Sir this pair is making your feet much more smaller. Why dont you try on the Black one that we have and i will just a cork padding on it and lets see if i still know my magic.

Now I am in trouble. This CS is really persistent to make a sale and and really quite abreast with his merchandise. After a couple of minutes the he came back holding the black pairs i like and slowly slipping in the cork padding and asked me try it on.

"Its a perfect fit Sir."

"Wrapped that one!" its my mom.

I looked back her and just smiled. She was giving me this new set now, leather type this time.

"Its a little big for me mom..."

"Go get me three pairs of those cork padding and wrapped this leather shoes as well" My mom telling the CS.

After that, he asked Mantra to follow him and told him that she is buying Mantra a pair of slip on sandals. Yes, my mom is buying my baby his slippers! lolz.

She did asked me to get a pair as well. So Mantra and I decided to get our pairs at charcoal...

I love you nanay, and thank you!

Automation of Reason

Is there such a thing as having too many aspirations, or too high of goals? I used to believe there was no such thing as "too high of a goal," which isn't unusual for any perfectionist. But when everything is riding on the success or failure of that goal where do you draw the line?

When my sanity is wrapped-up and held together by a single thread of hope of the future I'm scared to death; nothing I do is good enough for me.

I'm only 28 but I feel so old; I've become such a workaholic, not because I love my job or for money, but simply because I have nothing better to do.

I've been dragged down into the routine 12-16 hour days Monday thru Sunday. Life seems so shallow, so mechanical; "programmed".

I just need something to remind me that there's more out there then this mundane, day-to-day bull shit. I need something, or someone to pull me from my work, show me that there's more to this world than the material, consumerism, more than what is immediately around me.

I want to be a romantic again, do something or go somewhere on a whim of emotion; have moments where I throw reason out the window and ride the roller coaster of intuition.

For so long I've told myself that emotion and intuition only leads to broken hearts, foolishness, and wastes time. But now that I've molded myself into this automation of reason and logic I miss the days when I didn't care if I wasted a few hours here or there. I need to chase the ghost. Lose myself again. Sleep the day away

"khalel, what's wrong?"

Nothing's wrong

"khalel..."

Nothing's wrong, please don't look at me that way, why are you asking?"

"Its just that you look sad..."

really?

"Yeah, i think your sad."

I just have a lot on my mind; you know that. But nothing is wrong, if there was something wrong I'd tell you.

"Would you?"

Please don't....

Dear Death,

So this is where you draw the line, a breath further from your hand clamped around a cold and lifeless throat. And my head was so heavy, washed in all the confusion; but I can't deny how sexy you looked with your eyes glowing in hatred, and the way your determination never faltered until every wisp of breath had been wrung from his body. And I have to wonder how many dreams have been shattered by such seemingly delicate hands.

And I think it's kind of cute how you always chase your tail in all of this. It's exhausting just watching you trying to keep up with yourself. And I'm not sure what it is about you, that I just can't keep my eyes off of you. And every pass you make leaves me seething in my cynical world where revenge is only a single thought away. But despite all your little oddities you still manage to bore the hell out of me.

Time moves so slow here. Sitting only two breaths away, we engage in our wordless conversations that express more then words ever could. Our sanity deteriorates the further we pry into the other's mind; and it's amusing that I know things about you that you don't even know, but I'm frightened that the reverse is also true.

But I've grown so tired of you questioning me; and this relationship held together by fear alone. And I know we both wonder what we're still doing here. I guess it's that attraction of like minds. But there's no one we hate more than ourselves; so I only hate you that much more for being a reflection of myself.

khalel

trasnfiguration

This new set of blog is the beginning of a process of making who I am known, explicit, public.

To many of my friends and colleagues I am an unspoken presence. I am never truly shared, and thus, I am never truly known. For those of you in my life to whom I have remained a mystery, I offer this blog to you. If you are moved to do so, I am honored to have you bear witness to this process. But be forewarned, even though this blog exists for you, I do not. I exist for only One Thing.

..i am that i am..

This blog is an expression of my understanding and relationship to that One Thing, and I shall serve that first, always.

I am unspoken in most of my human exchanges. Here, I shall pull no punches. This will interest and intrigue some. It will shock and offend others. And with no ill-will in my heart, I say this: I do not care how you feel about my offering. This is not to say that I don't respect and value you profoundly as a human being; I do. But the nature of this offering is unconditional. I exist as and for this One Thing, and no man, woman, or god shall ever change that.

Implicit to everything I've said thus far is the fact that I believe I have some degree of enlightened awareness. I do believe this to be true. But let me explain what I mean by that. One way to think of it is this: on a scale of 1 to 100, where 1 is absolute ignorance and 100 is absolute enlightenment, 50 would be the tipping point. At 50, one's understanding of who one is would be fundamentally grounded in Reality. I believe I've reached 50, maybe even 51. As such, I believe my understanding is as Real as it gets, albeit very immature.

Therefore, I look to my "teachers" not because they understand something I don't, but because they have had decades more experience than I in integrating enlightened awareness with a human life. They possess the skillful means that I do not. They also rest much deeper than me, and thus act as a representative of a mature form of my own highest Self. But there is no grasping. The relationship is based in Understanding, where teacher and student are genuinely not-two.

So my gift to you, currently in the form of this new set of blog, is profoundly selfish. I am only giving to mySelf. I am only speaking to that in you which understands me perfectly, even now. Perhaps you will join me in this enlightening movement. Perhaps you won't. Either way, I bow to you, perfectly. Received or rejected, I do not contradict myself when I say: I exist only for you.

PS:

I will leave the comment option on for my posts, and though I promise to read everything, I can't promise I'll respond to everything (or anything). I'm not yet entirely sure how to integrate the "we" aspect of this process. Like most things on this blog, it will be an ongoing question....

Isang Daan na Po

I have started this blog someone started this blog for without knowing actually what this shit is all about, it is just somewhere in october 2004 i had this urge of wanting to have a personal space where i can write about the things i feel, iam feeling and will feel. Good enough someone named Aian aka Brew, [his previous site was named brew over cigar, i know you hate it how i spell your name man lolz] agreed to do a template for my personal website that gave birth to Cairo's Confession and along with those templates design was also a personalized template for this space in blogger. He literally open up everything for me, even the account for the geocities and an account here at blogger. Username and password included. [lolz!]

remembering the old blog design for hush and listen

I am pretty much amaze with the design and the same time got pretty much interested with all these HTML codes. Pretty cool really!!!! Knowing me, i would want to learn the trick to it...

So ive tried to catch on the things on how he had done it. His design back then inspired me to learn this craft and do it personally this time. And i think it did causes me some migraine attacks.

But voila! I am currently using my latest design here, i guess it can speak for itself, if i have learn on not. What do you think?

Back to the blog, from then on this has been my little voice box for those unspoken tales happening to my day to day life. It has played witness to some of my budding relationship and played a theraphy for those sleepless nights of break ups and melancholic saga. Of course, it also played part in a number of happiness with friends and foes alike.

For two years now, this blog have is serving as a capsule for those memories of heaven and hell, love and lust.

To tell you honestly, it is just recently that i am enjoying this insignificant thread in the internet that i call my own. I remeber a friend that would always tease about this blog of mine and the months that has passby and careless attitude of not updating it. He would often tell me that, "Your most probably in love now, that why your not updating your blog!"

Yes it is true, i am someone whom you can call a sad writer. The writer that is IN is often awakened by sad thoughts and is in slumber when i am happy. But more than that, i would often personally surrender this space to save my "partners" from their insensible jealousy. Two of them in my past had brought in one or another this blog in one or some of our fights. Yes, i heard you its pathetic. But hey, i am in love what can i do. That was me then.

It is just recently that i completely enjoyed writing more on this space. Most probably that would also explain why today only marks my 100th post considering the two years i have been here.

Readers? I never did really expected that people really, actually reading my shitty things here. But Still, it literally amazes me that this little blog has grown... Never really expect people who i dont even personally know to read it since it's just a minute insignificant thread in the internet quilt, so small that it's always a surprise to have someone stumble on it.

To date, my statistic tells me that i had 19,217 readers from accross the globe, ranked 3rd at the PLU Blog Listing. Generally, i guess this is what every writer's dream, to know someone is actually reading your shitty stuff. To know that somehow, even for just a minute of someone elses life, you have become a part of it and appreciating and dissecting your work and in return become a part of you eventhough their millions of miles away.

To All of you who has been and is being a part of this world of mine, Thank you.

My Damn Temple

"I am beautiful, no matter what you say Brute!"

Don’t fuck with me
Its not your place
To judge and wish
It isnt your home
To tell me its wrong

This isn’t your temple
Let me worship whom
I please and How I please
In a few years Will you see?
No

You’re blind to me
Just like I am to you
You won’t let me feel
And I won’t let you in

Kiss it all goodbye
The coffin is set
Ready with 30 nails
The body is embalmed
Full of unnatural chemicals
The makeup you wore
Still the same A dozen roses

And six feet of dirt
But its my turn
Right its my turn to

Say what it is that I feel
and that is I am who I was
and What I am is not
what u Wanted but I will not
And won’t change for you

--------

Its what i feel about all those people who are full of shit and who think that same sex anything is wrong!!!

Yes, this is for you Biatch!!!!
No wonder your son kill himself!!!!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Just Blogging.

Note:

I have updated the Archive List for this site. Everythin now is listed by category. So I hope it will be much easier for the reading public to my little collection here. Kinda feel bad browsing my works in such a chaotic link so, voila! (see archive)

I also have updated my friend[s] link and powered it blogroll. So I can focused reading more those list that is being updated. Plus, it would be much more easier for those people who want to link me up in their respective blogsite. (see jerkers)

I am also planning of getting rid of the tag board and replace it with a gallery. I am still studying a good script for that though. Do you think its a good idea? Oh well...

The Pilgrimage of A Dreamer

I feel so damn tired lately.

I just found myself in a rippled state of depression over something I didnt know. Maybe that explains constant posting here in my blog. For those people who knew me, I am a more efficient writer when I am depre

ssed. I really dont know why but somehow depression is extracting most of creative jouice when I am sad or scared about something.

For almost a week now, I havent got a decent sleep and in these past few days I seem to wake up often times in
a most distressful side of my death bed. I kept on getting these bad dreams in my middle of the night and found myself in tears in the morning.

I am scared really, there is something bothering me, yet i really dont exactly know what.

Yesterday I was lamenting over my unfilled dreams and my role in the lives of people around me. Somehow it made me more sad to know that time is ticking away, I am being eaten by nights and days, i am frighthen really by the thoughts that the bell of life will rang without me completing the those dreams i long for.

Excuse me for being cynical today, i just feel empty and sad. I really hate it when I am like this, I hate being bothered by my own personal distressed. There are just too many people holding on me for strength and courage and being so weak is simple a time a i cant afford to do. It has been a role I took upon for my mom and sister and for those other people i call friend. I SIMPLY HATE WHEN I AM SO WEAK.

I know I can resolved this thing that is bothering me soon. I had before and I will again. It is just that for now, just for this little moment, I am KHALEL, a boi who is just afraid of tomorrow. I just dont wanna die without even knowing how to live.

Cliche

"aaahhh...."

I do enjoy my gay porn, especially those sexy guys in CorbinFisher and SeanCody, but for all its potential richness, don't you sometimes find gay porn tends to focus mainly on a few simple ideas, and these are conducted in a rigorous, set pattern?

This pattern is simple to remember, and obvious once observed. Two, or more, men will meet. One of them, perhaps as a result of an intense stare or a word or two of conversation, will begin to feel his cock through the material of his jeans. At this point it is usually appropriate for other nearby males to begin the same action, though on occasion they will assist with the through-the-cloth stroking. It should be noted that the majority of us have hit fast forward by now, simply waiting for Ah, there we are! Hit play again...

Their jeans are now opened. There's a hint of flesh, perhaps a sliver of belly, then the entirety of a cock rolls into view. Stroking and sucking ensues, a dispassionate sort of sucking. There's no fun involved, just a look of utter seriousness glinting in the actors' eyes. And on it goes. Sometimes slapping takes place, accompanied by an encouraging grunt, something like

"Suck it, yeah. Yeah, suck that dick. You like that, don't you?"

the kind of macho things that are guaranteed to put most of us off sex, but apparently fulfill some sort of primal urge when committed to celluloid.

Eventually, we get onto the fucking. Everyone's clean and tidy, well-lubed and there's never any concerns over gentleness or pain. This is strangely-sanitised sex, there's no risk of hurting the other person, or doing something they may not enjoy, because the other person's thinking of a dollar, and that fucks all the pain away. They move, writhe and grunt. Then comes the best bit, the 'Money Shot'. The fucker, against all common sense, withdraws and proceeds to wank himself to orgasm. The semen is directed in an arc across the cheeks of the recently-fucked arse, and the head of the ejaculating penis is rubbed and slapped on the now-anointed skin. Finally, and always, they kiss.

Perhaps this knowledge of what's really happening is part of the fun. Perhaps one should feel a gush of warm familiarity when witnessing such acts. We know, we just know, that they're going to kiss now they've finished. Perhaps it's supposed to warm our hearts, provide us with that just-watched-'Beautiful Thingy'-feeling?

Perhaps gay porn is not supposed to be taken so seriously...

Age[less] Love

"so, what?"

You meet a guy, you start chatting, you get on really really well and then you get on to the subject of age, he tells you that he is younger than you thought, what do you do? Do you dump him just because of his age? Do you see him again but tell yourself that you are not going to get in to a serious relationship? Would you sacrifice the possibility of a long term relationship and happiness just on the basis of age?

_________________________

"I don't think that I have ever discounted a prospective friendship (or love interest, athough I am still waiting for him to come into my life) on the basis of age. I guess I have this enormous blind spot that stops me from judging people before I get to know them. Also I don't see beauty in the same way that some people do either."

"A friend of mine says that some of the women and men that I find attractive do absolutely nothing for him. Are any other of you guys like me? I have to admit that I find twinks attractive and I watch almost exclusively twink porn but that is not real life. If I ever got a twink who was interested in me I probably wouldn't know what to do with him."

________________________

Does anyone think that it would be exceptionally offensive if someone was to refuse to speak to you or suddenly became disinterested just because of your age? If that ever happens to me, I do.

To me, age doesn't matter. In fact, not much really matters. Be open minded, never discount anyone just because of their age and hope that other people don't discount you because of your age. Young people have things to teach older guys the same way that older guys can teach young people things. For loving relationships, just follow your (or my) heart!

The Verve Award

Hey guys and girls.

I just got this in my blog hopping.

It would be great if you could nominate me and your other favorites. Thanks!

We are pleased to announce our first annual Verve Weblog Awards! Nominations are being taken for 25 awards to be rewarded to the very best GLBT weblog writers. Everyone's invited to take part in the nomination process, so visit Lone Star Verve to find out how you can nominate and vote for your favorite GLBT blogs! Nominations will close October 27, 2006. After finalists are selected, voting will begin November 1, 2006. Good luck!

Best wishes,
Lewis Adrian
Editor @ Lone Star Verve

http://lonestarverve.blogspot.com/

We agree not to speak about these things...

You can't call someone a faggot, even if in your heart you feel like that's what they are. We as a whole, Society, have to find a way for us all to live together. So we have to decide as a group what we will tolerate and what we will not tolerate.

And when we have decided what will be not acceptable we ban together and agree to cast shame on those people who go outside the parameters of what is agreed upon as acceptable.Children don't understand prejudice.
All they understand is that they are learning and trying to make sense of the world that is new to them. And they question everything they don't comprehend. They say things that are honest and if spoken by an adult would be seen as prejudiced.

Momma his skin is the wrong color.

That girl is weird she has two Mommies.

His eyes look wrong.

Her hair feels weird.

And a Mother or a Father might get that look on their face like society is watching, society might have heard my child.

So we cover their mouths and we say no, no honey, we don't say that. And you bury it inside. Your questions about why people are different, are asked to be pushed way down deep.

And as we get older, we still don't know why people are different. But what we do know is that we are only taught to be tolerant of a certain set of rules and what our parents have decided is the proper way that all people should behave. And sometimes when our parents thought we couldn't, you might hear father's frustrations slip out when he called someone a promdi behind their back. Our mother might say you know I think the neighbors kid is a fag. Or kapangpangan people are up to no good. Or visayan are dishonest.

The questions you had as a child about differences are now being filled in and sometimes when I don't understand people I find myself getting angry and filling in the blanks with negatives.

That stupid so and so.

That dumb so and so.

You cheap so and so.

And I hate it.

I was rereading a blog from a few weeks ago and there was one guy who was being honest about how he felt about chubs and effeminiate people. He was expressing his frustrations and looking for understanding. A lot of people started a virtual stoning. Calling him a bigot and amongst all other names. And I never got the feeling he was a hateful person. I got the feeling he was prejudiced and wanted to understand why.

We are all prejudiced.

Yes, you are prejudiced.

There are times when you see something and in your mind, where you're safe to think your true thoughts.. you thought things like, Look at these fags flaunting themselves, no wonder people can't stand them. Look at this rude Chinese lady, she just got right in front of me, those fucking Chinese don't care about anyone but their own people. Look at these fucking batangueño people, they are so pompous and arrogant and have no idea how stupid they look. Look at that fat bitch, my God have some control over yourself. Look at that ugly bitch. Look at that stuck up business man. Look at those 35 year old bike messengers, I'll bet they are horrible parents.

We agree not to speak about these things. So we think them in safety. In silence, ignorance festers like mold in a petrii dish.If someone could say..

why do these kinds of people do these things, without someone shaming them and silencing them, we might be able to find out where prejudice comes from. In our selves and in others. If I see something I don't understand and I tell someone... without fear of being called a bigot or a racist or an ageist or any other assorted label, I might be able to let the prejudice die and take it's place with understanding. I know It is still a long way for me, I am also guilty as anyone of prejudice.

________

To all those people who had been victim of my shitty mouth, I apologize.

I Have A Confession

"Hear me, out"

when it comes to meeting guys, i can be a real wimp. This is contrary to a notion that I am flirt. (Well, I can I think I can be one, If I choose to) But it is just that, between me, jed and marco, I am always the one that have someone with me and more often than not, that someone is a guy I am committed with. (Dont know why, dont ask!). But seriously, amongst us three, I am really the shy type! (hahaha, gurls dont argue with me! Tis' my blog! lolz)

"i am really the shy type you know."

when i see an attractive spunk at a bar, in a shop or on the street, it takes such a long time for me to work up the courage to say hello and introduce myself that by the time i'm actually ready to do so, the guy is usually gone. if not, then i often lose the nerve at the very last moment and find myself scurrying the other way.

i realise that i'm not the only person to suffer from this, as i'm sure many of you have also experienced the same thing. the most common - and simplest - reason to explain the affliction is a case of "shyness" or a "lack of confidence". those who have a penchant for psycho-analysing will be inclined to say that it's due to a "fear of rejection".

while those are very good reasons, i believe that the problem can also be explained by another: our "perception of self-worth."

when meeting someone new, we immediately make assumptions and theories based upon our initial reaction from that person - the important first impression - and we compare these with our own self-values. if the stranger is someone quite attractive, we often tend to form an elevated picture of their personality. we raise them above our own level as an ideal to pursue. sometimes, we may exaggerate this to the extent that the person becomes quite intimidating. intimidating because we then end up believing that we won't meet their standards or their ideal. therefore, we pass up the opportunity of meeting and choose not to do anything in order to not make a fool of ourselves.

i've realised that this is exactly what i've been doing. i build up these gorgeous strangers in my head so much that they become daunting to speak with and i end up not talking to them at all. despite the fact that i consider myself to be quite confident and have a good understanding of my capabilities, i still thought that i wasn't worthy of their attention.

yes, apart from being a dirty, evil boi, i can be a headcase also.

so, imagine my surprise when a gay friend of mine - a great, funny and charming guy - admitted one day that he had initially found me quite scary to approach. he thought that apart from being too polished and cool, that i was also quite aloof.

me? simple, cute, modest, li'l me?!? i was stunned - and a little flattered - that he would think of me as such. he thought that he was someone that i wouldn't even consider speaking to. which leads me to ask, are we really all just a bunch of self-concious narcissists with an inferiority complex?

it would explain why i remembered him being so cautious in the way he responded when we struck up a conversation. i wasn't interested in him romantically, so i didn't hesitate on approaching him to say hello. looking back, it seems that he was in me though.

well, we never did get together but things worked out much better between us. we are now good friends - equals. and that would only be because one of us decided to break the ice in spite of each other's perception and self-image.

so the moral of this tale? don't get ahead of yourself. reality can be much kinder than how you perceive it. more importantly, bite the bullet and just go for it - take the risk and say hello. you never know where things will lead. and if you do end up making a fool of yourself, who cares?! you're not likely to ever meet the other person again, are you?

but all the same, just remember to be nice when someone else does exactly the same thing to you.

Asian HeatWave: Brent Javier

raised in canada, brent came to the philippines initially to play basketball but fate intervened and he is now a big name in the fashion industry.

brent is one of the sexiest male model in the country today. he is the 2003 mossimo bikini summit winner and mtv best model of the world philippines - manhunt winner.

brent describes himself as a man of few words, but a good listener, honest and patient. for their july - september 2005 issue, icon, philippine's premier gay and lesbian magazine, featured brent as their cover boy. when asked in the interview about people's biggest misconception about him, he replied, "i am not stupid. a lot of people think i am innocent. i listen to you but i form my own opinions."

during his spare time, brent loves to go to the gym and play basketball which is his number-one hobby. he also loves watching tv/movies, hanging out with friends, clubbing, surfing, and bungee jumping.

Power Party of Three

me, myself and i. apparently, anyone else may be too much. i like three. it's a good number. a prime number. i guess i've just been feeling like i need someone. a friend. a good friend. but, when i look around, the only one still standing with me is ... me.

me, myself and i. we've become good friends over the years. i've learned a lot more about me ... about myself over the last few years. and, sometimes i feel like i'm losing my mind because i feel crazy alone. but, i am learning to count on myself. to pull myself out of the funk and back into the rhythm ...

of all the things i should be doing. i don't often do things right the first time, but if we pay attention we'd know that somehow we often get a second chance at things. same opportunities, different situations.

i did it wrong again. counted on all the wrong people. counted on everyone but myself to be there for me. but, i am the one who's been wiping my tears.

i'm the one who's been telling me everyday that i'll be okay.

i'm the one who tells me i am loved.

i know that i'll always be here for myself. everyday.

without fail ... i'll be here ... for me.

everyday i learn a little more what it means to depend on me. to take care of me. to love myself. and, it's hard. it's harder to love yourself than it is to love someone else. it's hard to learn that i am the one most deserving of my love. but, i'm learning ...

everyday, i'm learning ...

I am a Sexy Blogger???

Now this is amusing!

Anyway there is this thing called Sex Blogger of the Day, The site features every Gay Blogger in the World! and Shocks! I was featured in the said site last September 27, 2006 to be its Sexy Blogger of the Day!

Yes, I was named to be one of the world's sexiest blogger! hahaha.

Personally, I never thought I am sexy physically, so the feature really is quite flattering in all its sense.

To the author and group of the site, Thank you very much! Pretty Cool!