I Am A Guardian Becky

Photo Graphic Evidence

I’m fascinated by this whole Marjorie Barretto photo scandal. What I find interesting is that her lawyers advised her to bite the bullet and confirm that those were her photos. By admitting that she was the one in the photo, the lawyers were able to go after the online sites that published the photos and forced them to take down the photos. Furthermore, she allowed her lawyers to now speak for her. She has since kept silent about the issue. (At least, that’s as far as I can tell given a cursory Google.)

So far it looks like a smart move. Her lawyers have been very thorough in going after those who posted the pictures; in effect, it’s difficult to find the photos online now. And although she admitted to posing for the pictures, her silence on the issue prevents her from further self-damage. Her silence has also effectively kept people from further gnawing at the issue like vultures.

In fact, people may now be thinking, “What if those photos were really for private consumption only? What’s wrong with having some naughty poses anyway, if they are intended only for her loved one?” In this day and age of photo selfies, that doesn’t seem unreasonable at all. Since the photos of her in flagrante delicto are nowhere to be found online, her offense now doesn’t sound too crass, compared to other celebrity sex scandals. And silence is often seen as a class act; her poses may not be classy, but her handling of the scandal is.

Out of sight and out of sound, out of mind. (That is, until someone from her family resurrects it in a future word-war.)

Band Of Bruthras

“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers….” 
— William Shakespeare, King Henry V: Act 4, Scene 3

* * * * *

I don’t know what happened, but yesterday morning when I checked my Blogger account, it told me that my reading list was empty and that I was not following any blogs. I just assumed that Google did some resetting, so I decided to re-follow the blogs on my blog roll, completely forgetting that I have probably more than a hundred blogs listed under “Links.”

I was only on letter B but I was already tired and dismayed. So many blogs had either been taken down or the last entry on it was back in 2012. The blogging boom of several years ago has gone bust. Online personal diaries have been replaced by special interest columns, public relations articles, and paid marketing. And the bloggers of before have now taken to Twitter and Facebook (and sadly for some, Instagram).

Still, there’s something to be said about full-on blog entries. I’m talking essays, not Tumblr-sized entries that read like tweets with pictures. It takes skill and thought to present something that goes beyond 140 characters. (Facebook allows longer posts, but really, a “read more” button often acts as a hurdle more than a welcome mat, unless you know the one who’s posting, or the first few sentences are compelling.)

I followed only pink blogs (with just one or two exceptions). And what a colorful bunch, the many shades of pink! It was great to hear disparate voices offering particular points of view. My blog feed looked like a smorgasbord of various concerns and musings, gay and not-so-gay. There was no such thing as “trending,” unless it was the day after Miss Universe.

Blogging afforded anonymity. It allowed closeted or discreet gays to speak out (or “act out”) what they couldn’t in public. For some, blogging was the venue that allowed them to spread their butterfly wings and take flight. Twitter could accommodate a condensed version of their blogger persona. Facebook however proved to be too public, too tedious for the closeted bloggers. But alas, Facebook hijacked the online conversation.

And so most of these voices moved on from blogging. They are still very much online, but they’re expressing themselves in shorter bursts. And in real time—the rise of smart phones and “unli” promos created the perfect storm, allowing people to be always connected. The “comment” button allows real-time exchange and dialogue. Ideas are submitted, examined, liked, and rebutted with the speed of Internet connection.

Thank god some of us still continue to blog on. When I finished going through my blog list, I ended up re-following more than 20 blogs. There are as many motivations as to why gay bloggers continue to blog as there are colors in a rainbow.  When I first started, I wanted to “put on a show” (thus the name of my blog); I thought of it as a personal experiment to see how much of my persona I can present to the online public. That quickly evolved into, well, bathhouse stories and other sexcapades, with reviews of plays and movies in between. Nowadays for my initial reactions, quips, and take on things happening around us, I take to Facebook and Twitter; I reserve my more lengthy musings for my blog.

We may not be as prolific as we once were, and we may not command the same number of readers as before. But perhaps it matters not why we continue; we just choose to blog away. Whether by tweet, FB status, or blog, pink voices should continue to be heard, now more than ever.

P.S. – And just as sudden as a computer glitch, my reading list is back to what it once was. Ghosts in the machine, I tell you; ghosts in the machine.

I Can Be A Lousy Listener

I read this online article, “10 Types Of Lousy Listeners” (click HERE to read it in full) and was struck by one of the types mentioned: The Problem Solver.

As a listener, I know that sometimes we just want a sympathetic ear, and that we just want to rant. And normally I am very patient when it comes to listening. I have been told more than once that I’m a great listener. I guess that’s because I can easily keep a detached distance.

The irony here is that I’m a lousy listener with D. Because when he approaches me with a problem, the first thing that kicks in is, “I HAVE to help him. I HAVE to do something, I HAVE to solve his problem or at least come up with ways to a solution.” I can’t stay detached; I instinctively want to alleviate his worry. Because nowadays when I am faced with a problem, instead of ranting (which I sometimes do) or worrying (which I also sometimes do), my default reaction is to not wallow but instead figure things out.

Twice already I’ve failed D. I remember when he first told me, “I’m not asking you to do anything. Just listen.” But how can I just listen when my mind is already taking in the big picture, looking at it from different angles, and always asking, “What if?” or “How about?”

Through the years I’ve learned not to wallow in worry. Worrying is a waste of energy. I’ve taken to heart adages like: “Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy” by Leo Buscaglia, or what the Dalai Lama said: “If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need to worry. If it’s not fixable, then there is no help in worrying. There is no benefit in worrying whatsoever.”

However, that’s a lesson that not everyone gets or even appreciates immediately. I too loved to wallow when I was much younger; the realization that my time is better-spent elsewhere was something that crept up on me through experience. And it’s unfair to force it upon D.

Sigh. 2 years and 11 months in, I still have a lot to learn. (But perhaps that ought to be a comforting thought.)

So Let Me Just Comment Here

When I read the Facebook exchange above, I was sorely tempted to comment. But then I realize that there is a difference between opinionated and intrusive. So just let me publicly reflect here.

Gleaning from the author’s choice of words and phrases used, one can get a hint of his problem: “everything has been against me;” “lived my life by the book;” and “deserving of all the good things that life can bring.” I was sorely tempted to ask the following: How sure are you that everything is against you? What is this “book” that are you living by? How can you say that you “deserve” such things? And what makes you say that these things are “good”? 

One important lesson that we need to learn while growing up is to be able to think for ourselves. This results in us defining our world-view. Our world-view isn’t shaped instantly, and it also can change from time to time, as we gather more and more experience.

However, thinking for oneself isn’t exactly a value that Filipinos are taught early on. Like most Asians, we are taught to value the collective more than the individual. Add to that the fire-and-brimstone message of the Catholic Church, and you have a people raised on pakikisama and Catholic guilt. I find nothing wrong with collective thinking; however, I feel we should also be encouraged more to think for ourselves. 

And when we start thinking for ourselves, we will also slowly realize our place in this world. I find it both a terrifying and wonderful moment when we slowly realize that we are so miniscule in the larger scheme of things yet so infinite in our minds. More than being bloated with a sense of entitlement, I worry about that realization. How easy it is for us to feel entitled. Or how easy it is to forget how much Lady Luck plays a part in our lives.

Which leads me to the comment about optimism and the grand conspiracy theory of the universe.

“The universe conspires” is the same as “shit happens.” Both are valid ways of making sense of the world. The difference lies in the attitude of the author. Speaking for myself, I often find myself bemusedly thankful at the former and amusedly resigned with the latter.

What works for me these days is a balancing act. When something good happens, enjoy it while appreciating the fact that the opposite had an equal chance of happening. And when things turn south, accept it. The sooner you do, the sooner you can move on and figure out ways to improve your situation. Hope is a combination of doing things yourself while allowing the possibility that forces beyond your control will align with what you want. 

When it’s good, don’t forget that the other shoe could have dropped. When it’s bad, try to make do, but be open to the possibility that Lady Luck may just smile at you.

At The End Of “Sa Wakas”

At the end of “Sa Wakas,” the new musical featuring the songs of Sugarfree, there was a directorial flourish at the end which (no spoilers here) made the mostly young audience gasp and exclaim, “Ooh!”

Outside, D and a friend were gushing over that particular scene, and I said, without much reflection, “Wow ha, you really fell hard for that? But that’s been done so many times before.” Which prompted D to exclaim, “Well, you’re so old, you’ve seen more plays and movies than us!”

That got me thinking. My friends in high school were the nerdy, geeky ones who listened to Kate Bush aside from Madonna, and obsessed more over Francois Truffaut’s Day For Night than Caddyshack. It was our way of forging an identity that separated us from the jocks whom we despised yet secretly envied. At first I just faked interest in subtitled, obscure films that was more interested in the human condition than blowing things up. But after a while I developed a healthy respect and interest in them (though I still like blow ‘em-up movies once in a while).

Of course, my DVD collection isn’t chock-full of obscure, highfalutin’ foreign films. (To be honest, I like having summer action blockbusters in my collection because I like how they sound in 5.1 Dolby surround sound.) But thanks to my Big Bang Theory friends, I have seen my share of classics films, the kinds that appear in all-time greatest lists. And thanks to my stint working at the CCP (and specifically, in my interest in theater), I have also seen a fair amount of stage productions, from straight plays to musicals to folk theater to what is politely called “performance art.”

Exposure is great, because one gets to appreciate all sorts of art that is out there. But with exposure comes familiarity, and with it, the danger of ennui. Worse, there’s also the danger of an inflated sense of self-importance.

That’s why I am amazed at those who retain their child-like innocence and genuine appreciation and surprise despite extensive exposure. And how does one avoid being a know-it-all?

I realize it all boils down to two things: humility and kindness. Be humble enough to not flaunt one’s knowledge. Be kind enough to appreciate other people’s appreciation.

For so many years I’ve developed my sense of pride and self-worth so that I can be a self-contained unit who is capable of surviving singlehood. But three years into a relationship with D, I am still realizing that what is more important than knowing your self-worth is the maturity to set it aside lest it bloats into self-importance.

Maybe then I can again watch with an innocent heart and an uncluttered mind. And maybe I can still grow to be more patient.

Ang bagong crush namin. You will fall in love with his voice. He actually can out-Ebe Ebe.

On Marriage, Gay Or Otherwise

The remaining Fabcasters and members of the peanut gallery who were staycationing in the metro met up at Casa De CC last Holy Thursday to enjoy pizza, get drunk on wine and harder spirits, and shoot the breeze atop CC’s rooftop balcony. We even saw a double rainbow before we started seeing double, thanks to all that alcohol.

But sometime before everyone got too tipsy, CC posed a question for everyone: Do you believe in gay marriage? And will you marry your current partner?

In the next few paragraphs, I’m not out to convince anyone to think the way I do. I’m just stating what I believe and don’t.

I do not believe in happy ever after. Happiness isn’t a constant state that remains with you and your partner the moment you two make it official. One day it’s there, the next day, it’s threatened. Happiness is something that the individual chooses and that the both of you work on.

I do not believe in everlasting love. Everything ends in death. When the two of you die, what’s left is only the memory of the love—and perhaps an offspring, a pet, or a piece of property—shared.

I believe civil marriage should be made available to everyone who wants to enter into such an arrangement, regardless of sexual preference. I may not necessarily get married, but I want those who desire marriage the opportunity to marry.

Having said that, I prefer that divorce should be made available too. There must be a way to dissolve a partnership, especially if both parties agree to the dissolution. I don’t believe in the quote, “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.” That quote is applicable only to the faithful. But why apply the same norms to non-believers? My eyebrows also fly off their handle when I hear the argument: “But divorce will weaken the institution of marriage by making divorce available even to the faithful.” First of all, the institution is still thriving despite divorce being available in almost all countries. Second, it is not the institution that’s weak; rather, it speaks more about the weakness of a couple’s faith should they allow themselves to succumb to divorce.

So will I want to marry D? Funny thing is, had I been asked the same question almost 3 years ago, when D and I first started out, my answer would have been no. But after hearing Suze Orman explain clearly the advantages and benefits of marriage, I revised my initial decision. Yes, so long as we can also opt out of such an arrangement.

As for those who point to their parents as shining examples of sticking it out through thick or thin, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do them part, I say, “Good for them. But again, not everyone will want that.

At the end of the day, it’s all about allowing personal choices and upholding personal responsibilities for making choices.