Love and Machismo in the Modern Age

here's something fun. for me at least. it got me two shirts, a swimming and sauna gift certificate at the dusit hotel, 300 smackaroos worth of phone credits and a 1000 smackaroos gift certificate at Max's. nice? the price is. the fact that i was picked was better. hokay hokay it is not a pulitzer, but hey, i am not the kind of writer you would pay to read eh? plus the other works were enjoyable reads as well. victory is sweet. hope you like it. and in case you're wondering where this wonderful place is, click here.

LOVE AND MACHISMO IN THE MODERN AGE

Traitor. So like St. Nick. Cupid sold himself out to the organ grinding machines of capitalism. While we are at it, the guy who we got the name of the day from is probably jumping up and down and tearing his hair out in an apoplectic fit in heaven (he ought not be anywhere else right?) every time the day arrives. Okay, hold on to your horses, if I had in any way deflated your blossoming state of amorousness. No need to get those condoms in a bunch. While you are at it, go and swallow the pill that’s in your mouth.

Love. It is a word so grossly commercialized it has become cliché. You love your skin, you love your hair, and you love your freaking white armpits for heaven’s sake. So great, everyone is making a killing off the day, from the debonair bachelor who you are about to sleep with for the first time, the flower vendor, the upscale restaurateur, to the sleazebag motel owner (I do hope you have enough sense not to make a video of yourself and make the friendly neighborhood pirate’s coffer overflow with moolah). People ought to have enough sense not to go anywhere during that day, since even the most private and secluded spots (i.e. hotels) are a veritable ground for impromptu reunions. I had seriously begged off after we saw my female companion’s classmates all clutching numbers for the waiting list. That was eons ago dearies, before our population well, exploded.

The word is not something to be trifled with; else it loses all its power. You utter it and it means commitment, and sacrifice as well. When you love, it is never 50/50. You go all in, body, heart and soul. You compensate for what is needed and accept what is and not there. Love is supposed to make you and your partner free, not shackle you in a corner. Take for example when we men meet someone – a free spirited woman. Dresses up nice right? Shows some skin, is nice to talk to (she is nice, after all you’ve just met and she doesn’t mind talking to you), during the conversation, you are of the opinion she is smart apart from being sexy. Plus she is confident, has lot of male friends and revels in them. You grow to like her a lot, and she grows to like you as well. You date and sooner than you expect you wake up next to her. Now, instead of the world being okay, the walls creep up on you. Was I number three or number four (sure as hell I was not the first)? Why did she like me (and what happens if she meets someone she’ll like as well)? Does she really love me?

In the process of hanging on, we ask the other person, to change. To change from what we fell in love with, to something no one wants to fall in love with. Why? It’s so that the better-looking guy with the bigger banana and the Porsche does not run off with her. Here’s something I learned – try not to transpose your fears. Do not use it as a weapon to make your partner feel bad. Being in love is supposed to make you happy, it supposed to be your rock, to be your center. It’s supposed to make you confident and keep you free. Free to celebrate who you are and your love. So please before you go out today, think. You at least owe that to yourself.

view from a bus window

here's one of those numerous snippets that i have, unresolved and unfinished. written on a bus ride home the eve of the last valentine's day - i got really dizzy and it reminded me why i do not read or write in a moving vehicle. 02/13/2006

Nine fifty pm. Good thing that I didn't take my car today. Gives me time to write. The city is in transition, in the clutches of halogen and gaudy neon lights. It never really sleeps does it? As I make my way home, tired and drained as a lot of the other passengers and some of the people I see, there are those who are about to start their day. Until about two weeks ago, I was part of them - nightcrawlers.

I had been oblivious, reason why I am happy I commuted today. The woman in the dark blue pant suit passing by like she was floating, as graceful as a swan. Her hair looked like it was still damp, I wonder what scent she uses. The young couple ambling along the sidewalk, looking like the world was theirs alone. The ambulant vendors with their toothless grins and sunken eyes, still managing to be cheerful in their impoverished state.

I sometimes get so wrapped up in the foibles of my own existence that I forget to live. It's now eleven twenty and I am still stuck in this traffic jam's hellacious death grip. I live just a stone throw away from where the city's florists are, and since it's the eve of Valentine, well everyone is here.

grounded

Been stuck in bed for two damned days. I hate being sick. My kids have been driving me nuts about how it may be bird flu, and then my son developed a new one today. He told me my bird's got the flu. Tee hee.

I have some things swirling in my head right now, including making a new blogpage, for my politicking. Somehow it does not feel right, but then I said anything and everything right? I'll try and figure things out. Also, how do I put just the initial paragraph on the blog entry? How do I put the "want to read more?" Been meaning to ask Patricia Kirby how she does it, but it always escapes me. I have dial up internet see, and by the time my tortoise like connection gets to where it's going, it is a wonder I still am able to have any coherent thoughts at all.

Anyway I was holed up in my room channel surfing and I come across ANC's (ABS-CBN's news arm) Top Story. They had Professor Winnie Monsod as guest and I found myself glued. After the subsequent accusations that the network had been overboard in delivering the news, I would say that having one of the most respected and level headed people in the country as your guest would more than make up for it. And Professor Monsod, you are correct, Filipinos are not stupid!