Talk Trash

Life’s full of shit, yet I’m happy. No, this isn’t ‘bout me whining about how unfair life is. It’s also not about me trying to figure out a way on how to find Mr. Right. This is just about shit, pure and natural shit.

Sometimes, I find myself totally exhausted after one damn day of doing crap and talking trash. Yes, I’m still the goody-two-shoes girl that everyone has grown to admire and love. In fact, I’m still the same old boring me trying to find my way in this highway full of pathetic losers imitating everyone and performing in this one helluva movie. I refuse to be a part of this fairytale, I refuse to give in, I refuse to bow in such nonsense crap. I AM ME, no pretentions and no limitatations. I know my responsibilities, I know my priorities. But once in a while, I find myself doing stupid and out-of-this-world things.

My life has been monotonous, stuck in this monochromatic television where other people have the power to change channels. My life is another program in this world full of assholes and bitches that are so damn hard to please. Now, I crawl in one corner, looking for the bitchy side of me. Getting in touch with my “evil side” is quite enlightening. Yes, I do date, A LOT. But what I cant understand is the fact that people won’t understand me. Believe this, I am not a SLUT. Not now, not ever. I would never sleep around even if it’s what the world dictates. I love myself and I love my life. I don’t kiss guys, I don’t get fucked up. And I think it’s cool.

That’s what makes me different. I’m a virgin bitch in this world of horny, fucking assholes who just can’t wait but feel the deepest side of my flesh. I don’t wanna join the bandwagon of whores and sluts. Kiss my ass!!! I am a woman. I am a bitch. I can be one helluva lover, I can even make you itch. But then again in the end this is still me. The simple girl, talking trash and stuck in crazy me.

My Bestfriend Theory

Monsod’s Bestfriend theory states that, at one point in time, the bestfriends will have to go through a stage where they will fall for the other. if they're lucky, they'll go through it together but according to statistics it’s most probable that they’ll not fall at the same time. if they do fall in love in synchronicity, that's when the platonic relationship becomes a love story, but if one falls without great timing, it's a possible prelude to the end of a friendship..the ending lies on how they handle the situation, whether they'll just let it go, address it or wait ‘til the other also falls and they cross the line from being friends to lovers..

We’ve all been hearing all these “falling in love with the bestfriend” stories. From it being a success, a complete disaster or a one-sided melancholy. We have seen movies with the same premise, from the heart-wrenching “My Bestfriend’s Wedding” to Sharon and Aga’s “Kung ako na Lang Sana”. It can’t be an isolated case right? The Falling-in-love-with-the-bestfriend Phenomenon reached a universal state and everybody’s experiencing it, of course except those who don’t have a bestfriend, silly. I can blame it on whoever started the adage, Friendship is the foundation of love. Screw him/her, whoever he is. I don’t think friendship is the best groundwork of love, it’s an illusion, it’s a fallacy, a hasty generalization. Bestfriends fall in love for convenience, for lack of options or for mere boredom and exhaustion from the lifetime quest for the “LOVE OF HIS/HER LIFE”. It’s not about “Kung ako na lang sana” but it’s “Sige na nga, ikaw na lang.”. Got that?

Ok, a lot of people’ll probably disagree with me, of course nobody wants to be disenchanted. How more perfect can a love story be if it all started from being just friends? Then one sunny day, they just look at each other on a different way, one begins noticing how cute the smile of the bestfriend is, the other notices how they totally understand each other without uttering a single word. Then they both go home with a smile on their faces, lie on their beds, think of how dense they both are for not “paying attention” and for not realizing that “what they’ve been looking for is just right in front of them” (imagine the song For the First Time is playing in the background). The next day, they’ll both feel awkward, the girl begins to dress more “consciously”, the guy becomes more of a gentleman ( as an attempt to conceal all the farts and snores). Then after a few weeks of trying to mask what they think they feel, they decide to have a heart to heart talk about stuff. After the tête-à-tête, they end up cuddling in a tight embrace with tears of joy and contentment that they finally figured it out. Ohh, that’s sick.

I’d rather look at it this way. One sunny afternoon, they were doing their stuff, conversing about their ex’s and how people can’t seem to identify with them. While conversing, they realize that they’re tired.. they look at each other, trying to persuade themselves (of course by themselves, not totally discussing it) that maybe, there’s a chance that they’ll end up together. You know, just to stop the futile chase. They try to rationalize their illusions by looking for each other’s “good points”. When they go home, they’re both smiling because they feel stupid for giving malice to a perfectly platonic relationship. They lie on their beds, imagining each other’s faces just to give assurance that the other bestfriend is not that bad. They end up dreaming of each other due to excessive thinking. They feel guilty for whatever happened in the dream (it wasn’t that wholesome, I guess).. they feel awkward, and it will be aggravated by their friends’ teasing. Then they start to acknowledge the problem, they try to talk it out. Then they are both too scared to end their being BESTFRIENDS so they decide to take it a step further by being lovers, besides they both have been hypnotized by the “fairytale” they created. There’s just no one else to keep, same story as the meantime girl or guy. End of narrative.

At one point in my story, the other might try to divert his/her lust for the bestfriend by dating other guys/girls. Then that’s when things get fucked up. Or should I say it’s when order is once again achieved, and the bestfriends resume their “platonic relationship” in misery. Until they are able to find the better replacement. Then they continue the infinite battle. My bestfriend THEORY happens in a cycle. Oh shit, yeah, it never ends, it has no resolution. I think I’m gonna be sick.

I Touch Myself

This song has been making me smile for weeks now, i don't know why.. hahaha..

I Touch Myself
the Divinyls


I love myself I want you to love me
When I feel down I want you above me
I search myself I want you to find me
I forget myself I want you to remind me

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
I don't want anybody else
I touch myself

You close your eyes and see me before you
Think you would die if i were to ignore you
A fool could see just how much you adore me
Get down on your knees and do anything for me

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
I don't want anybody else

I'm the one who makes you come running
I keep you coming all the time
When I'm around you're always begging
I want to make you mine

I love myself I want you to love me
When I feel down I want you above me
I search myself I want you to find me
I forget myself I want you to remind me

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
I don't want anybody else

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
I don't want anybody else

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself (fading...)

Aftermath of the Proposal

Inexpressible love – to know that one doesn't write for the other, to know that these things I'm going to write will never cause me to be loved by the one I love, to know that writing compensates for nothing. – R. Barthes

Yesterday, I did something Im proud of but will eventually make me the most miserable woman on earth. I gave my letter of proposal to the man Ive been loving for quite sometime now and 24 hours after, I didnt get any reaction from him. Id like to think, that like me, he's also disoriented and that he's rethinking about what he's gonna do bout it, but I have a greater feeling that he'll just let me go and make me live my life without him in the picture. A part of me is saying that I did the right thing, of course it's rational, at least now I can move on and I can stop romanticizing every single memory that we have together yet, a greater part of me thinks that if only I didn't give it to him, things would still be normal and that I will still be able to be as close to him as I want to without him thinking that I’m flirting with him.

(After two weeks)

I don’t regret doing it, but as much as I want to say that I’m ready for whatever the consequences of my decision are, I can never be too ready… now, every second feels like a pin pricks my raw skin and makes me bleed. Every minute is like a lifetime of misery, fear and uncertainty. Every hour burns me like an overwhelming flame of suffering. I am dying.. he is killing me not softly but slowly…

. I still can’t believe I gathered the courage to make my friend give it to him and confess what I truly feel. I must admit though, I expected something wonderful out of it, I expected him to accept it as the “matured man” whom I thought he was. When I wrote the letter, I was full of hope that at least he would appreciate the fact that someone’s vocally admiring him and loving him despite of everything. I was so engrossed with the idea that he’ll find it exceptionally sweet and will eventually find it in his heart to try to get to know me more so we’ll both find out if there’s the littlest of hope that we can make it as a couple, or even as companions. Well, I gave him too much credit. His reaction was just so devastating for me that right now, I’m not only mending a broken heart but also a broken ego. I pictured the scenarios long before the letter got into his hands. I even listed in my mind the things which possibly will happen after that fateful day.

1. He will be greatly flattered, will text me as soon as he finished reading it and say thank you. The next day, he’ll surprise me with a bouquet of fresh flowers and invite me to a dinner date with him. We’ll talk about our memories, and how he finally gathered the courage to admit to himself that he’s in fact also in great attraction to me. we’ll make the decision to try it out as a couple and we’ll end the night with a passionate kiss. (This is the overly optimistic, too-good-to-be-true ending)

2. He will call me on the telephone to tell me that he didn’t realize that it’s what I feel for him, will feel flattered about it. The next day we’ll talk, he’ll drop the bomb, that he doesn’t see himself in a relationship with me (for whatever reason), I’ll cry but not in pure sadness but also with happiness because I got the closure I wanted. We’ll still be friends, we’ll be closer than before and I’ll be back in the dating scene with another exceptional experience added to my future autobiography.

3. I will not be hearing from him a couple of days after, but after a week (maximum) he’ll ask me if we can talk. He’ll confess that he still can’t believe I did such a thing and will tell me that it was too much for him to handle. (which is an implicit way of telling me he got turned off) then he’ll say that right now he is undecided of how he wants to end this story and he’ll be asking me for sometime to think. That we need time away from each other (as if not talking to me for a week want enough). Of course I’ll give it to him, we’ll still be friends. While waiting, I’ll be meeting new men and in the process get over him (because if he really likes me, no matter how conservative he is, his reaction will be different) then we’ll bump into each other, he’ll see me with another man, we’ll smile at each other, give each other that knowing smile which says we both understood that when we had the last conversation, it was over and that he didn’t want to hurt me too much and reject me directly because even if he doesn’t love me, he cares for me as a friend.

I was open to the idea of rejection, in fact it was my “reality scenario” but like what we always say, one can never be too ready for the harsh gifts of life. Long after he received my letter, he still doesn’t talk to me. He avoids me like a lethal virus and now I feel like my being attracted to anyone will be such a disgrace for the man. I had too much faith in the friendship which I thought he at least gives importance to. I had too much faith in his maturity and his judgment. It’s true, a woman in love never sees faults in her significant other but finds reasons for these imperfections. A woman in love never admits that their differences will greatly affect their harmonious relationship. Yes, I am mending not only a broken heart but also a broken ego. From my confidence level almost reaching 100%, it dropped to almost nothing, if he can’t fall for me, who would?? now, everything I believed in is being tested by how things are going. It hurts more than I can put and express into words. My tears are not even enough to measure how much pain and agony it’s now causing me. I am a strong woman, I know I’ll get through this, but like every failure I’ve had in my life, I know that I will never ever forget. I will never move on totally and with this experience will emerge a new insecurity, a new uncertainty which will make my life’s baggage heavier.

I fear for myself, I fear for the day that I might lose the faith I have for the power of LOVE. I know that something just went wrong with the singer and not the song, it’s about the lover not the love, but still, it’s the operative word right? If unconditional love can’t do it, then what can? I don’t know if this is my karma, for dating a lot of men in the past, for dumping a couple of men, for being a player or for being the “great one”. It can’t be like that, I wasn’t that heartless before to deserve such pain. If only he’ll give me the chance to at least talk to him and to ask him why… I have rehearsed, over and over again, in front of the mirror on how I would react to the scenarios I listed above, but now, if ever we get the chance to talk, I know I’ll cry. I will hate myself for crying in front of him because I don’t want him to see the weak side of me. I don’t want him to remember me as the girl who broke down and cried. My first line would be, “I expected more maturity from you… you have no right to avoid me like I’m such a pathetic, desperate loser..” but I know that at the back of my mind, the only thing I would really wanna do is to kiss him and make him understand how right it feels for us to be together. Yeah, and that too will be a bigger mistake because he most probably won’t kiss me back and he definitely won’t change his mind. It will just make me feel more of a loser and it will be harder for me to let him go because aside from the love that I feel, the feel of his lips against mine will be haunting me through all of my sleepless nights. Then I will be fantasizing of the day when I can look at him in the eye and get revenge from the look of regret in him for losing me and letting me pass him by. But that’s fiction.

In reality, I’m miserable, more miserable than I’d like everyone to think. He may look miserable in my friends’ eyes but my misery will be beyond what can be seen and perceived. My misery is undetected and more destructive. My misery is also my redemption. Until the day I find numbness from someone else’s misery, I will be miserable and I will be pretending….

My Epitaph

My epitaph will be something like these two i wrote..


Life's a Bitch.
She was a Bitch.
Therefore..
She was LIFE.

---

Life is predictably unpredictable,
randomly stable,
fairly unfair...
She lived with it, even regressed it.

---

Temporary Madness..

Sensuality connected our being
From afar, you have caressed me,

touched me, kissed me and raped me.
Through your eyes, I have teased you,
dared you, made you crave for more.
I licked my lips and you caught your breath.
You closed your eyes and I moaned.
we started walking,
towards opposite directions.

Wasted

Tonight, I'll be drunk, you'll be drunk,
We'll both be drunk..
Tonight, I'll hold you in a blissful stare
which can launch the most orgasmic feeling.
We shall break away from our rational selves
and lock our lips in a breath-taking kiss.
You will be brave enough to feel my longing,
fulfill it and surpass all the fear and uncertainty.
They'll watch us, in awe and in aching anticipation.
They will close their eyes and imagine.
For tonight,we're both drunk
and
tomorrow..
we're STRANGERS,

mere strangers who were
D
R
U
N
K
...

The “Nursery” Rhyme

Don’t you dare tease me, you don’t know what you’re getting into.
I may be an angel but I know I make you itch too.

Don’t pout your lips and never hold my hands.
There’s too much sexual tension I sure might start to run.

Don’t wink at me nor pinch my nose
I swear I can smell trouble wherever this thing goes.

Don’t be too touchy and hug me in the end
We might find each other yummy but I remember you call me friend.

This may sound wholesome, a nursery rhyme indeed.
But if we don’t take things slow, we might end up with a kid..

OUR "not-so-simple" Story

You will read this story again. It’s not a choice given to you, it’s a challenge you have to face. Be judgmental, ask questions, make conclusions. You are the reader, I am the writer. You own my words now and all I can do is wait.
------

At nine o’clock in the morning, while Britney’s half-singing half- squeaking her latest song ,Toxic in the background, Atoy is in his room, seriously contemplating on what to wear the next day. Tomorrow’s his first day as an official intern at the Makati Business Club and he can’t wait to strut it out. He then realizes that some last minute shopping has to be done to boost his self esteem. The obsessive-compulsive in him runs through a list of possible malls he can go to, “Glorietta, Powerplant, Podium, Galleria… hmm, Rustan’s kaya, definitely not Megamall, the place doesn’t feel comfy and classy enough.” While in deep thinking, his polyphonic tone of Beyonce’s Baby Boy begins playing, he reaches for his Nokia 3650 on his study table and starts to read his friend’s text message.

“Atoy, u hav 2b in mega ‘round 2pm,,d movie Anthony n i’l b wtchn wil prbably end ‘round dt tym, u hv 2 save me if he bores me to death,, pls,pls sweetie, plus, I do miss u. mwah,mwah. Ur d swtest thng,luv ya…ÜÜÜ.”

Bitch, he rolls his eyes after reading the message, I told her to stop meeting up with all these men if she can’t handle it herself. She didn’t even bother to ask if I was ok with it. The nerve of this girl, if she isn’t my friend, I would have subjected her to serious spanking. She is one of the reasons why I stopped being a bisexual and chose to be a complete homosexual. He smiles sheepishly knowing that no matter how unbelievably bitchy his friend is, he will still meet up with her at Megamall. He looks forward to seeing her and better yet to bashing the place again . Megamall, ready or not, your greatest critic will grace you again with his royal presence. While checking out the time in his Gucci wristwatch he got up and headed for the shower.

At 1:55 pm, Atoy arrives at the Megamall and struggles not to lose his temper while he waits for his turn to park his Toyota Vios at the mall’s open parking. Norah Jones’ soothing voice as she sings Come Away With Me doesn’t help much to ease his growing disgust. When it’s his time to park after 15 minutes of waiting in line, he still can’t find an unoccupied parking space. This is rubbish, why let all these cars enter when in fact they know that there isn’t enough space to accommodate them? And what’s with all these rerouting schemes inside the open parking which made the traffic even worse than a heavy traffic situation in EDSA? They charge me for this and I get exhausted even before I am able to go inside the mall simply because their parking space is insufficient, I really do love Megamall! When he is about to give up, a couple emerges and signals that their Mercedez Benz is right in front of his car. Great, ‘coz I don’t have any plan to prolong my agony While adjusting his i2i New York pair of shades, Atoy waves back and ironically, looks forward to going inside the mall.

He finishes his parking stint around 2:20pm.. At the mall entrance, Atoy once again falls in line for the routine inspection conducted by the security guards. Its purpose is to allegedly ensure the safety of all the shoppers. Yeah right, this is a very efficient way to detect possible criminals and terrorists. Atoy opens his Marithe Francois Girbaud clutch bag for inspection, raises his hands to give the guard access to his body. This is more of an erotic ritual than an assurance that we’re all safe. Of course criminals and terrorists won’t hide whatever it is that they must hide in obvious places. Even if they do, touching a person’s side and occasionally, his back doesn’t make sense, it will not detect anything. The guard utters an incoherent thank you after what Atoy believes are sweet caresses and Atoy smirks in return. While smoothing out his polo from Top Shop and his khaki pants from Dockers, he felt his penis react not due to lust but because he feels like peeing, he then tries to battle it out to go through an infinite number of people and push carts. While doing so, he realizes that though it’s normal for Megamall to be filled with people, there must be something special going on that day, people are literally swarming. Who would believe that the Filipinos are poverty-stricken when they’re all in the mall shopping their hearts out? But then again, they maybe taking advantage of the free aircon. It’s summer, staying in their houses is more of a torture.

While inching his way to the escalator and preventing the people from stepping on his Bristol Shoes in what seems like eternity, his attention gets caught by a certain banner. SM Three-day sale… Now, I am ready to kill that bitch. Who in her normal mind will schedule a date in Megamall on one of the three days of the megasale? I swear sometimes she can be annoyingly clueless, or should I say dumb? He shakes his head in desperation and breathes slowly in an attempt to stabilize himself. Relax. He pays attention to the enduring attempt of his pee to come out of his favorite part of the body. Seeing the washroom sign is like a battle won, he walks briskly towards it only to be stopped by a sign which says Sorry for the inconvenience, please use the comfort room at the third floor. Awestruck, he purposely pushes the sign out of its place because there’s nothing else he can do. With another attempt to control his pee, his Nokia 3650 vibrated and he swears that the sensation it gives him doesn’t help at all. It’s his friend, the reason of his misery, the unsuspecting villain of his mall-bashing story, the clueless bitch who’s probably making out with her date somewhere. Her text message makes him even more fuming.

“Ei boytoy, wer u? I knw I tld u 2 b hir @ 2pm bt im stil inside d cnema w/ Anthony . we’r knd of enjyin each othr’s company so cn u jst stroll ‘round 1st? im rily sory. It’s jst dt he’s rily cool, we’r wtchn The School of Rock n d movie’s just hilarious. My d8’s a good kisser, n did I tel u he’s got blue eyes? I knw ur hapy 4me,il c u l8r sweetie. Lotsa luv ;-)”

Stroll around first? Is she crazy or plain stupid? How am is supposed to stroll around when all these people are giving me the elbow, pushing me ‘round and literally bumping into me every so often? Atoy remembers his need to pee and continued the journey to his much-awaited destination, the washroom. Great, just great. My pee’s for the management who closes their washrooms just in time for a three-day sale. Cheers! After what seems like a blissful moment, he gets another text message from she-who-deserves-to-be-punished .

“ d d8’s almost over, last nlng, we’re goin 2 Timezone to play Daytona. Atoy,ur nt md at me ryt? F u wnt u cn jst meet us der. Cnt w8 2 c u again, and cnt w8 2 mke kwnto of d things we did. Hope ur enjyin ur stroll @d mall. Mwah. :-*”

Atoy wipes the perspiration on his forehead with his Bench hanky and texts her back, “Mad at you? Nah, it’s an understatement. I’m more like furious. But the good friend that I am refuses to give in to my present emotion. Ok, this guy must be really worth it or I’ll definitely hurt you both physically and emotionally, big time. :-P No, I’m not enjoying my stroll at your favorite mall and yeah I miss you too.” He sends his text message after checking his spelling and grammar, he refuses to use his phone’s dictionary. Text lingo makes Filipinos dumb, communication is a good thing but if done in bad taste, it’s annoying. He still doesn’t understand why his friend is in love with Megamall. In SM Megamall, there’s disorder and a bad case of Filipino culture. Of course, his friend disagrees and he more often than not will argue with her until they end up with the resolution that it’s all a matter of personal preference. That’s a good way to put it, relativity is a point widely-used by debaters, you can never argue without a standard. He still believes that comfort is only felt where there is order, aesthetics, well-mannered people wearing and using branded items.

While walking, or more appropriately, while being dragged by the crowd to the escalator, he finally sees his friend and her man. He looks at her and she secretly smiles back. She is wearing the dress we bought at Morgan de Toi, the sandals we eyed in Doyee Tumpalan’s exclusive line of footwear and the set of white gold jewelry her father gave her. Atoy knows that she doesn’t want her date to find out she planned the whole bumping into each other situation. He lets them pass him by, establishing eye contact the whole time with his friend, giving her the half-smile, raised eyebrow, you-are-such-a-flirt look. She giggles while clinging to her date’s arm whom by the way Atoy finds charming and oozing with sex appeal. Bruha, it’s their first date and they’re all touchy and clingy. He must really be a good kisser and conversationalist or she will not be holding her like a possessive bitch. He follows them to Timezone and watches them from afar. Blue eyes, medium built with muscles at the right places, Moreno, tall. He looks like a guy out of GQ magazine. Yummy.

“Atoy, ohmigosh, I can’t believe you’re also here,” She gives Atoy a smack. “This is my friend Anthony, Anthony this is my close friend Atoy. Who are you with?” She smiles innocently, perfectly acting out the surprised friend part.

“ I’m not with anyone, I was just strol---ling and appreciating how diverse the people are in Megamall. Hi there Anthony, it’s nice to meet you. Are you her boyfriend? You bitch, you never told me you’re with someone new now.” Now they’re both in the action. He hears Anthony saying he’s pleased to meet him and that he’s not YET her boyfriend, then he asks him if he’s always in Megamall. Atoy smiles, “Yeah, Megamall’s one of my favorite malls in the metro, it’s quite an interesting place. I get to observe people and understand them in my own little way. Right girl?” He taps his friend’s shoulder and gives her a you-better-end-this-conversation look.

“Right, so Atoy, why don’t you join us? We’ve got a lot of catching up to do bitch! I’m sure Anthony won’t mind, right sweetie?” Like a professional date guru, she holds her date’s hand and gives him a sugary sweet smile which makes Atoy squirm. The poor guy nods without knowing what he’s getting himself into.

“Aww, I would love to, I’m finished appreciating the beauty of Megamall, I might as well join you guys so I can start appreciating other things.” He gives his friend a familiar wink. The wink signals the start of a grueling interrogation which involves Atoy’s new object of labeling, Anthony.
-------------------
We’re all living a branded life like Atoy. From wearing branded clothes to assuming personalities to please the people around us. We label people according to what we perceive them to be. We judge people through our own standards and more often than not, we are unwilling to compromise.

We are like Atoy’s friend who charms her way through different situations. We all love the feeling of being superior, of being in total control while holding other people in complete surrender.

We are similar to Anthony, the clueless, optimistic, gullible man. We continue to see the world as a sugar-coated candy. But when is it time to finally wake up?

We are the seemingly unimportant men and women whom Atoy bumped into in Megamall. These men who unknowingly influences other men’s way of thinking, destination and even the journey itself.

This story is about you, about us, about every man’s life. I’m sure you’ll figure this out and find new interpretations after reading the story again. Go find yourself in the story, go invent and rediscover new meanings. Besides, I’m a writer, I can’t do all the explaining and interpretation for you. It’s forbidden.

Am I a Whiner or a Writer?

For hours, I stared at the emptiness of my room’s ceiling while trying to make pertinent thoughts and words flow like stream water running. I was on the verge of considering my colloquial style as my greatest difficulty in writing. It was what my friends / critics have pointed out on numerous occasions that now, I feel that it has hindered me from producing good articles. I breezed through some of my essays, short stories and pseudo-poems (pseudo for I find my poems silly and totally unacceptable even by the contemporary standards, they are mere blah-blahs). It was all in the hope of finding inspiration from previous works. In no time, I figured out what my greatest difficulty is.

My writing has always been, and I guess, will always be dependent upon my mood. But here’s the catch, I only write when there’s something to complain about. That makes me more of a whiner. I am a self indulgent writer. That for me is a very big problem, especially after I read what Margo Jefferson has to say about essays.

“I love essays ... but I do want to feel they’re part of a larger whole. Not just an indication of the writer’s sensibility… but as proof of the writer’s sustained concentration.”

Cristina Pantoja Hidalgo interpreted it as a warning against writing for self indulgence. I feel that I am one eligible candidate for being guilty of such pleasure.

I have written a lot of works which will verify my being a self indulgent whiner err, writer. “Ang Laki Kasi ng Boobs Ko” was about how I’m inconvenienced by my big breasts, “Di ka Masyado Kagandahan” was about how I hate it when good-looking women can’t accept the fact that normal-looking women like me can date drop-dead gorgeous guys, “The Failure of An Achiever” talked about how I complained about being an achiever in the eyes of the people around me. These are things which are normally considered as blessings by other people. I, on the other hand, write essays about these topics while whining nonstop. I never intend to just whine while writing, it just happens. Like it’s some inevitable event that I have to go through.

Just like any budding writer, I want my works to be of relevance to other people. The question remains, how am I going to achieve that? It’s hard when the things I write about only expose my own imperfection, my own insecurities, my own dilemma. I can’t go on discussing my states of depression, how I hate it when the guys I date are all not into commitment, or how I despise being stuck with horny men. How do I address this difficulty when I find pleasure in self indulgence? When in fact, I consider my writing as a form of outlet, a form of therapy?

The resolution to my dilemma lies in how I whine. It was Gutkind who asked the question, “Aside from the people directly involved in the story, who cares?” I must make my readers care without giving them the idea that I’m just a whiner in disguise. I must convince them that the things I write matter to them without sounding too desperate or eager to please. I must be able to write about topics which interest them and which also bring a point. May it be a point which will convince them or make them disagree, I must make my readers relate to the stories I tell, the dilemmas I whine about and the insights I am able to share. Writing is a form of “MUSTerbation”. So what am I? I’m a whining writer who finds pleasure not only in self indulgence but also in my readers’ stories of how I have touched them in ways I can never imagine.

IRONY

We're living our separate lives TOGETHER..
We look into each other's eyes
through a mirror of lies and deceit..

We find security and assurance in our hearts
filled with doubts, fears and denials...

We are loving each other and
preventing the love all at the same time...

We have won the battle and
labeled ourselves as the LOSERS...

We're living our s e p a r a t e lives together;
and WE is never transitive to
the existence of US nor togetherness..