The Truth, At Last

I came out to my mom today. My head's still reeling, so I can't really say much about it. It just found its way into the conversation, I forget how. The coming out part was pretty natural, just like any old conversation over lunch. We also had a 3-hour debate concerning norms, gender equality, religion, personal opinion--really, my head's throbbing. We're always like that, but it's only now that I appreciate where I got my debating skills. 

For the most part, she was okay with it--except for the God's orginal design angle. As I expected, she had an idea already, and my confirmation was all she needed. Although, I told her about the possibility of me being bi, and she thinks that sexual orientation is a choice, so she's probably holding on the 5% chance that I'll find a guy to marry one day. Knowing my mom, I told her not to expect any husband from me--kids, maybe, but  then she can't wrap her head around the idea of a homosexual couple raising kids, so...

She doesn't like the idea of promoting gender equality, and she thinks that changing culture is both impossible and superfluous. That's where the debate was centered on. In the end, she just told me to be prepared for the consequences of my choices in life--since, you know, she believes while I can't choose to be straight, I can choose to marry a man if I wanted a family; thus she feels I'm just being adamant on this whole lesbianism thing.

Still, I don't know, it's nice that she finally, finally knows. There's still my dad, who'll probably have a fit when he finds out. My mom will probably tell him, and it'll take a day of explaining or something. But right now I'm just glad that I've told my mom. She's not ecstatic over it, but she accepts it, at least, and that's great news for me. It feels like a sigh of relief after holding my breath for so long.

The Janus Tributes 3: Resolutions

Christmas and New Year's were pretty quiet this year, and I wasn't in the usual mood for wishlists, presents and year-ender posts. I did have awesome fun with my friends before the break, but the holidays are a time for family--and honestly, I love my folks but they're really boring. (They read this blog, by the way. Awkward questions, plus I am generally so dead. I hope they forget the url. If you haven't, well hello there parents. Please stop reading.)

Anyway, the main reason for not having a year-ender was that 2010 lacked the usual craziness and chaos that I usually go through. While I'm very grateful for such a stable and peaceful year, those two adjectives barely make for any interesting stories. The last year was great for meeting and keeping friends, but not much for telling tales. I did gain a lot--knowledge; wisdom; friends; weight; and increased alcoholic tolerance (either that, or better control over my drinking) among other things. But I can't rid myself of the feeling that I could've done more. I could've been more.

Thus, I've decided to make resolutions this year. It's been a while since I've made any lists, but here we go.

Dear Rz,

This 2011, never ever forget to:

1. MAKE A LOT OF RESOLUTIONS. And by resolutions, I mean short-term goals; concrete things to work for. 
2. TAKE CHARGE. Of your life; of your relationships; of your work. Don't leave things to chance--or worse--to someone else. You know you can do it, so why don't you?
3. GO FOR IT. [Ehem, OJT, ehem] I'm tired of your easy come, easy go, laid-back attitude. You have to push yourself this year. It's time to get up and get the things you really want. It will get tiring, and you'll feel perfectly like crap, but if you keep giving a little extra, it will all be worth it. On a related note, 
4. GET WHAT YOU WANT. If what you're getting isn't what you want, dump it and find something better. C'mon self, give yourself a treat. Don't settle for second best.
5. KEEP YOUR FRIENDS. You know how bad you are at this. But you have awesome people in your life and you can't afford to lose them, so lose the hermit habit instead. Reach out, let them in, and be good to them, always.
6. MAKE BAD DECISIONS (sometimes). I don't mean the life-ruining, relationship-wrecking type of bad. I mean the type which makes for funny stories later on. Don't be so uptight. Stable is best left to ICU patients and couples trying to start a family, and you're neither. Now is the best time to live for yourself, before you spend your whole life on responsibilities. "The things we regret most are not what we did but what we didn't do."
7. LIVE HEALTHIER. Okay, blogging this at one in the morning is a bad start. But please sleep earlier when you can, and learn how to wake up before 8 a.m. again. Lessen the cough-and-colds count this year. Last year was too much.
8. DO SOMETHING ABOUT THOSE FLABS. It's a bit rich to talk about flabs when you're such a skinny bitch, but they don't look good on you. So hit me with some sit-ups this year. I'm not talking six-pack abs overnight, but if your stomach and love handles get any fluffier, you'll be mistaken for a pregnant woman with your otherwise thin frame.

Just look at this letter from time to time; keep your word, and you'll do fine. This will be your year. Make it worth recalling when December rolls around.

Love,

Yourself

Reelizations: On Movies That Define Me

One look into my laptop's movie folder and my collection of less-than-legal DVDs will tell you that I'm nothing of a film buff. I do like watching movies; I regard them as one of my favorite leisure activities. Often though, I find that I'm not willing to part with the time and money involved in watching films. As a result, I'm more of an HBO viewer, or else I tend to watch movies on the basis of my friends' recommendations and coercions. This passively affectionate relationship I have with movies makes it difficult for me to name particular ones that define me, so I've decided to do it by categories.

Except for one, that is. I might as well start with the exception. I've recently watched Lisa Cholodenko's The Kids Are All Right, and it struck me mostly because lesbian couple movies are rare. Also, it reminded me of me and my girlfriend, with a slight twist. While I'm (quite obviously) the soft butch one with the Ellen Degerenes clothing preferences, she's the more accomplished and slightly workaholic one. And while I’m pretty self-directed (unlike Julianne Moore’s character), I’m the one who got delayed because of shifting; besides, seeing my girlfriend’s diligence can make anyone feel like a slacker. She’d cancel or turn down some dates or meet-ups for the sake of her thesis or org activities. Admittedly, it’s caused endless issues between us, but we work it out and we’re otherwise very happy—which is why we’ve lasted this long. (In fact, every time I tell people we’ve been together on and off for seven years, I’m greeted with either respectful awe or slight alarm, depending on how fearful of homosexuality and/or commitment they happen to be.) I’m too young to think about settling down and having a big old lesbian family like the one they have on the film (minus the cheating and all), but I hope that when both the time and person for it comes around, my family and other people dear to me would be accepting, or respectful at the very least.

Next up are chick flicks/love stories, which would tell you that I am a sap. Yes, there’s just no use in denying the fact. Love Actually is one of my current favorites, particularly the subplot about the best man (Mark) who is secretly in love with his best friend’s bride. He surprises her on Christmas and tells her how he feels, even when he knows there’s nothing else that can be done about it. I guess the hopeless romantic in me can relate. Among many others, I liked 500 Days of Summer, a non-love story; Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a love story where each character tries very hard, and yet fails, to not be in love with the other; and Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which I rather liked, despite unnecessary displays of Jason Segel’s…err…private parts. In hindsight, I seem to like bittersweet love stories, which I guess makes me an “emo” sap. Actually, it makes sense, seeing how I like to watch chick flicks whenever I’m depressed. Sometimes I just like to shut myself in my room, surrounded by comfort food, lamenting over the fact that—unlike most of the movie characters—I would probably die loveless and alone.

Last on my list are reality-bending movies such as The Truman Show. I only ever saw it once, as a kid, but the concept of creating an entire environment—an entire life—for a person really stuck. Then there’s Inception, the mind-bending film which also happened to be the first one I watched in a movie theater all by myself. I’m enchanted with the idea of subtly altering people’s perceptions. One of my ultimate dreams used to be to change the world—but with the jadedness that comes with growing up, I’ve settled for changing at least one person’s life, or even just a couple of people’s minds. Also, I love these types of films because they distract me completely, and take me away from the overwhelming monotony of everyday. 

After all, isn’t that why we watch movies in the first place? Escapism is a tricky thing, though. At the end of the day, all the films we watch and remember are reality-benders. Truly, we choose movies to take us away. But then, I think it’s about time we choose how much of them we take in, too.

[This was an assigned essay for my Audio-Visual Communication class.]

Skinny Bitch: On The Narrower End of Weight Issues

Ever since the age of ten, when I discovered the amount of time and money that one could save from not eating proper meals, I started growing thin. I grew thinner and thinner until I earned (along with unbearable amounts of ulcer-ish pain) the envy of my diet-crazy friends, and the concern of nurses and doctors whenever they reminded me of my woefully below average body mass index. I started eating properly again, but I just couldn't gain the weight anymore. Well, not until recently. I'm glad to report that my BMI just (barely) made it to normal levels, and all I need to do is maintain the weight.

Still, that's work for me. Yes, I am an effortlessly skinny bitch. To most, it may seem like a blessing. That's probably because you haven't experienced being underweight. It only ever comes in handy when:

• You're involved in those team-building activities where group members need to carry or lift their team mates. I usually get passed around like half a sack of potatoes.
• You're a trained ballet dancer. I was forced into ballet by my high school PE program, and it was one of the most awkward and embarrassing moments of my young life. Needless to say, I am not—and will never be—a trained ballet dancer.
• Your carpool gets very crowded and sitting on each others' laps becomes a necessity. This is rather unfortunate for the person you have to sit on—in my case, my sister who's four years younger. Ha ha.
• You're in the running towards becoming America's Next Top Model. Sadly, not only did I use to have the weight of half a potato sack, I also happen to share its level of fashion knowledge.

On the other hand, here are some challenges I've encountered as a skinny bitch:

• There's a reason it's called underweight. Just like being overweight and being obese, being underweight is medically not normal. 
• You can't donate blood. The last time I tried, I came up short by half a kilo, I think. And it's something I've always wanted to do, too.
• You're something of a weakling. Especially since my arms seem to gain no fat nor muscle, I could never lift things. Those carry-your-team-over-the-web activities? I proved pretty useless once I got to the other side because I couldn't lift my other team mates.
• You get trapped outside with a signal #4 storm. Seriously, I've tried. I happened to be walking on a slanted surface during a really windy storm. I could feel my balance being affected. I imagine it would have made for a really bad Mary Poppins knock-off.
• You're not even tall and you get mistaken for a kid. Which always, always happens to me. Either that or people mistake me for a prepubescent boy, which isn't comforting either. Damn it people! Do I have to wear my birth certificate on a chain around my neck?

But really, this is all for fun. To normal-weighing people who go crazy about dieting (especially by unhealthy means), please don't stone me to death. And please, stop trying to be those starved skeletons you see on the Internet.

Weight is just a number. Whether you have a little too much, or too less of it, should not run nor ruin your life. If you're really trying to gain or lose some pounds, you should do it for yourself, and not for those critical significant others, relatives, neighbors, or friends. 

And if you happen to be a self-imposed weight critic, please do the world a favor and STFU. You know what everyone hates more than a skinny bitch? A nosy one, I'm sure.

Bad Decisions

A week or two ago I watched this one episode of How I Met Your Mother, where Ted, one of the lead characters, has to tear down an architectural landmark (The Arcadian) to make way for a new building he was designing. He was pretty reluctant; at first he thought it was about the building. But then he realized it was really all about a girl who was protesting against his project. His friends then recalled the silliest things he'd done, all for the sake of dating particular girls.

I just love that show (you should watch it, it's awesome). And—not for the first time—I found myself being able to relate to Ted. Embarrassing as it is, I have to admit I may have, on occasion, gone totally out of my way for a girl I liked.

There's this incident from almost ten years ago that I remember vividly. I was in fifth grade, and I had developed a crush on this girl, who upon meeting me, apparently decided that she hated my guts. She teased me relentlessly, until one day she decided to stop; at that moment I realized that I liked her. Now, I don't know what that says about me, but (*cough* masochist *cough*) I guess I was pretty much a hopeless (and clueless) romantic at the age of ten.

So anyway, we were friends already, and there was a fair of sorts in school—with mini-rides, inflatable houses, and all that. I was with a couple of friends when she and a couple of her friends went up to us, joking around and asking to be treated.

And, before I knew it, I had my wallet in my hand. I wasn't a rich kid, so I handed her the remaining 50 pesos in my wallet. I got a sweet smile and a peck on the cheek, and I guess that made my day back then, despite the fact that I had no money left for the rest of the day. Later on she went on to be the first girl to officially break my heart, when she started dating a close friend of mine. Tss, kids those days.

Here I am, ten years later: about five inches taller, with a better haircut and better fitting clothes, but almost exactly the same attitude when it comes to my love life. I may not be tripping over myself in the haste of doing irrational things for every single girl I happen to like, but I can't say I've quit the habit entirely.

Over the years, in the name of dating, or simply liking someone, I have:

• embarrassed myself multiple times by trying to pull off something I normally wouldn't even want to try;
• been dragged into awkward events and situations wherein I knew practically nobody else;
• taken impractically diverted routes home for the sake of being able to commute with aforementioned someone;
• stayed up amazingly late, or woken up amazingly early to talk to said someone (depending on whether she's a midnight or morning person);
• regularly attended classes which I wasn't enrolled in;
• waited for hours, hoping to casually bump into said someone during her free time;
• gotten lost multiple times, trying to find/buy things as gifts;
• learned to play the guitar to impress aforementioned someone;
• totally overhauled my wardrobe (yippee for me);
• played nice (actually, I really am nice), even when it felt like torture;
• tried/am trying to change my attitude toward things (yeah, that's mostly for the better though);
• and some other things which are too specific and/or dramatic to disclose here.

They might sound like totally normal things to do. I guess that's because at some point, we've all done irrational—or, at the very least, uncharacteristic—things for the sake of love, or the faintest illusion of it. If you haven't...well, hang on, you'll find your match.

Does loving or liking make us foolish, or does it make us brave?

Hands down, I'd have to agree that it drives us to make some really awful decisions sometimes. But still, unless you'll end up getting seriously hurt physically or psychologically (or something horrible like that), I'd say go for it.

After all, bad decisions make for good stories. Or so they tell me, anyway.