Hydaspes

Life has been so quiet lately, and that's why I have not blogged in quite a while. I have been busy with stuff for school: thesis, theology, philosophy and all my other papers for various classes. I have not been going out as much as I used to, and that's not because I am drowned in school work. I can still manage to go out if I want to, since I work wonderfully when I cram stuff. It's just that I don't feel the need to go out as much anymore. I went to the bars, I went to the parties, and it's all beginning to seem quite monotonous. That's my problem, I get tired of things too quickly. I have not totally exausted the bar and party scene yet (although I'm getting there) and already I feel that I will eventually get bored with it.

This reminds me of an apocryphal story of Alexander the Great. When he was at the banks of the Hydaspes River in India, his army of weary soldiers simply refused to go on. Since they were surrounded by an impregnable wall of jungle, Alexander's army had no other option but to turn back and head for home. The point: after establishing an empire that streched from Macedonia to India, Alexander finally ran up against a blank wall. Upon realizing that one has finished conquering all that there is to conquer, what then does one do? Alexander the Great sat down and wept. The waters oif the Hydaspes, ran with his tears.

As of today, I just feel strange and confused. Is what I am experiencing now simply a bout of boredom, or have I reached my Hydaspes?

To Isagani Cruz, Bigotted Old Fart

There has already been a lot of reactions to the Isagani Cruz article insulting members of the gay community. As a result of the numerous reactions demanding an apology, Cruz responded in his Sunday column; but the response was far from satisfactory. It was nothing more than a cop-out answer, a big fart just like he is. He said that had he known that Manolo Quezon was gay, he would not have written such an incidiary attack on the gay community. He claimed that he did not wish to include people like Quezon--- respectable homosexuals who are not as flaming and as effeminate as hair-dresssers--- among those whom he expressed his disgust for. But this is a serious case of skirting the issue. This statement does not do anything to undo the hurt he has caused the gay community at large.

Why can he not face the issue head-on? Simply because he can't. In no ethical and moral order of the contemporary times is what he said justifiable. He knows that what he said was wrong and that there is really no way of saving his old geezer ass. The current mode of thought simply frowns upon gender intolerance, and hate-mongering statements such as this. Last I heard, it was already the year 2006 and not the Middle Ages.

I feel that the danger in Cruz's statements is that it nostalgic for a time when people were forced by society to deny who they really were. Apparently Cruz wants every gay man and woman back inside the closet. But what he does not understand is that the closet is a terrible place to be in, because it is a serious hindrance to the advancement of the self. Even the Catholic Church says that all human beings have an inherent right to self-fulfillment. Gays and lesbians need to be able to express who they are in order to live a full human life. Thus, discriminatory social practices and hateful sentiments such as those displayed in Cruz's article, are crimes which go against, not only members of the gay community, but against all human beings who seek to live the human life they deserve. Cruz's article is therefore an attack on all those who were ever bullied in the school playground, all those those were ever teased because of being different, all those whose childish insecurities have been played upon by other people, and all those who have ever soaked their pillows and blankets in tears, wishing that they had been born into a society which was less cruel.

The increased respect for the gays, bi's, lesbians, and transgenders evident today is the product of years of struggle. It took the silent oppression of centuries upon centuries, for the gay community to gain the respect it now enjoys. What people like Cruz do is stomp upon the fruits of this hard-won victory. Naturally, this will attract the ire of an entire portion of the population who have suffered long enough. So I join the numerous others in expressing my contempt for Isagani Cruz. After all, a wrinkled old geezer is no match for an army of fabulous queens. I will not even dignify him by trampling his sorry ass with my Prada shoes.

Lonely Loving

The world was full of lonely creatures. The problem was that they each chose to be lonely with someone else.
- Rosario Cruz Lucero

Once again, the affairs of the House of Venus are not going well for me. There are so many nameless faces and faceless names that drift in and out of my life, and yet none of them ever materialize. As Milan Kundera would put it, they all suffer from the unbearable lightness of being; they have no gravitas. This is frustrating because they are all in front of me, and yet they are hallowed out shells of that which I look for. It is like eating bread that does not appease my hunger, or drinking water that does not quench my thirst. What I seek is real bread and real water, correction, I seek and entire banquet.

Looking for love in the wrong places never did anybody any good. But I cannot help but search for that perfect sunset moment when the philharmonic orchestra suddenly errupts from the silence of the background. I feel that I thrive of instances such as these. I draw the stuff of life from them. This is because I am a lover, a metaphysical, existentialist and poetic lover. I believe in in such trifle things like true love, and romance, and first kisses by the light of the moon. I believe in butterflies in the stomach, and the melting sensation in the knees, and vision that sudenly shifts to slow motion whenever the beloved passes by. I am a hopeless romantic, and this may be my problem.

Right now that I do not have a person to share these moments with, I cannot help but feel weak and sapped of energy. I have so much to give, and yet no one to give to. My manghuhula told me that my life is not really that bad. There is a lot to smile about such as my grades, my family, my friends and my writing. True, but I just can't seem to take my focus away from my barren love life. As I said, I thrive on these things; I live for loving. And now, I just feel lonely.

To A Gypsy I Know

Gypsy, sittin' lookin' pretty
A broken rose and laughin' eyes
You're a mystery
Always runnin' wild
Like a child without a home
You're always searchin'
Searchin' for a feelin'
But it's easy come and easy go

-Mariah Carey "Bringin' On The Hearbreak"

I pray for a gypsy who searches still. He cuts his hands as he passes through the thicket, and scrapes his knees as he scales the peaks. Through your ramblings, dear gypsy, let the world not dim the sparkle in your eyes. Let the rose you keep in your heart of hearts remain abloom in its crimson beauty. Let not the thorns bleed it dry of color.