Feb & Favorite

He’s a reader who I met and became friends with. We don’t see each other much though, but we text every so often. I received a call from him a couple of weeks ago. He broke some news. And it was great news. It would be an honor. It would be flattering. It would make me proud. But I was still in disbelief. I needed to see it for myself. Or hear it for myself rather. So I did.

What the frick am I talking about? I was apparently mentioned in a Fabcast, which is a podcast of THE fabulous people, the Fabcasters. And not just any Fabcast, mind you. This was the Fifteen Favorite Blogs of the Fabcasters.

Wehhhhh?! Totoo?

Searching for the entry on the site of ManilaGayGuy, I fortunately found it. So apparently, they listed down fifteen of their favorite blogs – not necessarily the best or the top, just their personal favorites – that are gay-originated or oriented, and definitely Pinoy. Check, and check...

And indeed, I was there, first mentioned! Well, not necessarily because I was the best, or the kulelat at that. I was just lucky to come first in alphabetical order. Hehehe. I’ll take it!

Apparently, it was an AJ who nominated my blog. Not sure if this is “Baklang AJ” of the BaklaAkoMayReklamo blog, who I remember commenting on my past blog entries. Whoever this AJ is, Migs, the ManilaGayGuy reveals him to be an acronym for Ang Jojologs...

I giggle everytime I hear the part where he playfully teases, “Jologs nga!” Hehehe, everytime! EVERYTIME! He took it back anyways, saying, “Magfe-favorite ba tayo ng panget?” Even if he possibly meant it, who cares?! Ain’t nothing wrong about being jologs!

Of course, I didn’t stop the Fabcast after hearing my blog. I was curious who else was on the list. And what good company it was... Here are the other blogs on the list:

BaklangMaton

Chuvaness, apparently a writer of the Philippine Star... Wow!

CityBuoy, who has won at the Philippine Blog Awards

DiscreetManila

HotMenInThePhilippines

FickleCattle, a lawyer by profession... Ooh!

JessicaRulesTheUniverse, no less than Jessica Zafra! Whoa!

Lexuality, director and screenwriter Lex Bonife of Lalake sa Parola and Kambyo, and who I’ve met and yoga-ed with!

MandayaMoore

MisterHubs, the blogger I’ve said in the past I’d like to meet, and have!

TheBaklaReview

TheProfessionalHeckler

Tiggah'sLife, apparently an exhibitionist – interesting – from California

and TristanTales, a friend from Washington DC... but rival for the malibog at malandi throne, hehehe.

Whew! Even if I were actually just the fifteenth ranked, still an honor to be in this list!

Answering why they came up with this list, the Fabcasters say they wish to encourage more people to read these worthy blogs. Naks.

So to Migs the ManilaGayGuy, Gibbs Cadiz, McVie, CC (who I believe is supposed to be CorporateCloset), Tony, and AJ, MARAMING MARAMING SALAMAT! and THANK YOU! and WORLD PEACE!


Listen to the Fabcast here.

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For Rent

In the relationship I’m in, I hardly make decisions. Partly because I really am less dominating, but also because he’s more critical. He’s more set in his ways, and I’m more open to anything. It’s a match actually. My favorite line, “Up to you”. So taking the reins for a major date night was huge for me. But I took the chance.

It was back in January that I struggled to even consider planning it. There were so many reasons to. I was about to be fresh out of a job, with loads of free time to spare. It was Valentine season, a first for us, a major reason for a major date. A friend was going to have his star shining on that stage, and I was thrilled at the chance of watching him. And I had never watched Rent before, not in the movies, not on video, not on stage, not ever.

So I scoured the net for ways to get tickets. I found it, and asked Hubby if he was game, without revealing what exactly I was planning. I tried to keep it a secret. I chose a date, he marked it off. I wondered what seats would be good, he left the choice to me. I opted for what I guessed to be the best seats to watch from. I made the reservation, paid through a bank deposit, and it was set. On the very opening day, the very first evening performance of its 2011 run, I was finally going to be able to watch Rent.

Though our reservations were still for the 8:00 pm show, we had practically the whole day planned out. We met to have lunch, some mmm mmm Savory chicken after his morning meeting. I skipped yoga to keep my day open for our big date. We drove to the Rockwell area, where he had some work to do for a client, with which I was able to help out as an extra pair of hands. I truly enjoyed that. From there, we had an early dinner at XO on Jupiter Street in Makati, and headed finally to RCBC Plaza early so we’d not have to be hustling our way there.

We got the tickets we reserved, and had about an hour to spare. So we grabbed some coffee, and hung out. After a while, we took one last trip to the restrooms, and headed in. Drumroll… and… whew! I was happy that he approved of the seats I got. Not too near, not too far. We were right smack in the middle of Orchestra Center.

Soon, a robotic sing-song voice flooded the theater. “This show will begin in ten minutes. Thank you.” Then five minutes. Then two minutes. Before I knew it, the lights dimmed, and I held my breath…

Before this, all I knew about Rent was that it touched on HIV and AIDS. And of course, Seasons of Love. I knew that three hundred sixty five days, at twenty four hours per day, and sixty minutes per hour, made ‘five hundred twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes‘. That’s all.

So without giving anything away, I giggled at Gian Magdangal’s grind, groove and guy-liner, I am humbled with how homey OJ Mariano plays a homo, I was superbly shocked to see Ciara Sotto’s sensual, sultry and slutty side, I mooed at Maureen’s maniacal monologue, and of course, I acclaim at the acrobatics and antics of the amazing Angel, played by Job Bautista, famed tomcat of the Pole Cats, and fellow Yoga for Lifer. Bravo!

Of course, as pleased and excited I was every minute I was there, Hubby had different things on his mind. Thanks to my super power of peripheral vision, I could see every smirk, every sigh, every tsk, every head scratch, every eye roll… everything from notes not hit, to lines unheard, to palengkera pokpoks behind us, to the cigarette breath of the guy seated next to us, he was just stressing himself out.

It wasn’t easy. It just wasn’t easy. But then, he’s just like that. Blame that he is himself musically gifted. Blame that he is a performer himself. Blame the hypertensive genes. Blame age. Whatever. I admit, it wasn’t easy, but it was fine. I try my best to appease him whenever he gets like that. Thank heavens I don’t sweat the petty stuff myself. Maybe opposites do attract, huh?

Well, he didn’t exactly ruin the evening, despite all that. He did have a good laugh as we got lost in the parking lot. He did admit that criticizing stuff was one hobby he enjoyed and enjoyed a lot. He did say he was happy just spending the whole day with me. Good answer. Good answer.

So would I recommend watching Rent? Of course! It was a great place for a Valentine date, and a perfect last hurrah to my bumhood. Now I’m not naturally a critic, not of the performing arts at least, but I can safely say I enjoyed the production. Immensely.

I giggled every time the “AZT break” punch line got thrown… oh, boy, could I relate! And I got teary-eyed when Angel got kinuha-ni-Lord, and even when he showed up again at the curtain call. Cheesy! And I absolutely especially loved every time the chorus sang the all-too-familiar Seasons of Love. It never tires. It never tires. Fine, so maybe I’m not really musically inclined enough, but who cares if the highest note Mimi hit was the screech of her thighs against a cold metal pole?! Ah basta, I enjoyed myself!

Perhaps it helped that I was relating on a personal level. Perhaps it helped that I myself have been counting my own five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes for the past almost three years now. And mind you, I’m still counting and I have no plans of stopping just yet. Go and check out Rent. Perhaps someone you know is counting his or her own five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. I can only say, there’s only me. There’s only us. No day but today. No day but today.

Rent is being held at the Carlos P. Romulo Auditorium in RCBC Plaza, from February 12 to March 6, 2011, on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. For more information on the schedule, reservations, and tickets, visit www.9workstheatrical.com.

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Work It, Jerk

I’m unemployed, but my body clock is still wired, so I still wake up early. But after breakfast, I walk the Li’l Bastard. I love how I can sleep a couple of hours more before lunchtime, and doze off again for siesta afterwards. Then the drowsy side effect of my ARVs help get me to bed early, earlier than usual even. So I’m truly enjoying my break from work. I may be enjoying it too much. As much as I’m enjoying being a bum, I don’t really want to get used to this.

So this early, barely a week since my unemployed status, I’m keeping myself on my toes, thinking about what career paths I could consider in the next phase of my life. Truth be told, I have a lot of options. Only because I’ve done a whole spectrum of things in the . And in a world that demands a master-of-one, I’ve learned to embrace the jerk-of-all-trades in me. Let’s see, what are my “trades”?

I like telling stories. Okay, let’s qualify that statement. Yes, I may flunk in interpersonal skills, bordering on anti-social, and I’d rather take the non-confrontational communication in the form writing. I tell my stories in a written form. And status quo would declare that I milk this love for the language and stay a writer. Oh heavens if I could couple that with my love for adventure and become a travel writer… I’ve been lucky enough to have met one, and boy, did I envy his job.

I love sex. There, I said it. I love sex. But I doubt if there are any job openings for sex educators. I remember back in college how I loved seeing raids on callboys, macho dancers and toreros. Rather than thinking “Shame on you!”, I’d have “Darn, why can’t I do that?!” running through my head. It just seemed like a logical thing for me. They say do what you love, right? But then that’s the extreme that I may do even without the monetary returns. And that won’t pay the bills.

I am organized. Fine, I was being politically correct. I am almost obsessive-compulsive. I hate clutter, and love having a place for everything and everything in its place. I’ve actually been able to use all that to my advantage when I was doing admin work at a previous job. Files and materials were neat and orderly, saving on both time and space. And the ultimate sign you could make a living out of being OC? When you’re better at organizing other people, than you are at organizing yourself. Hehe.

I like working with my hands. And I’m not talking about sex at all. I have unleashed the inner “er” in me more than a handful of times before. From plumbing, to painting, to building, to gardening. But I would love to use my OC side as well, and do organizing through custom closets. Yes, I have considered taking up carpentry courses at TESDA a while back. And yes, if I were to turn it into a business, it would have to be called Back in the Closet. Interesting…

I have a visual logic. And although I’m a self-learned designer, I have been able to use that in previous tasks, doing brochures, presentations, branding, layouts, websites, cards, and so on. I don’t even remember how I learned to use Photoshop, for heaven’s sake. I’m not sure I’m skilled at it either. I just discover things as I go. But it works. And coming from a design firm with real graphic designers, while I learned a lot, I know I have more to learn.

I love numbers. I do. I love how, with numbers, there’s only a right and a wrong. No subjective, just objective. That’s the logic and the geek in me speaking. Again, this has been something I’ve used before, doing everything from feasibility studies to accounting. Add to that how I’ve been known to be the Excel nerd, oh, heaven. Rows and columns of integers and decimals to sort and sum, all give me pure orgasmic pleasure... Oops, sorry, I got carried away.

So there. I’m overwhelmed, and this is just the tip of the iceberg. As much as I would love to jump on the first job vacancy that comes along, I am unfortunate to have a brain that works this way. So many options, so many factors, so many decisions. And even more unfortunate, even as a self-confessed jerk-of-all-trades, the one thing I don’t believe I’m very good at, is making decisions. Ugh. Wish me luck.

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