i missed out on blogging for three consecutive nights since i was cramming to finish editing a ten-page critique on a comparative study of poverty in canada and the united states of america. it might occur to you why on earth would i dissect a subject that's suprisingly dislocated in the two north american superpowers. it might also be a wonder why i'm doing so whereas i'm not a citizen of either, in the first place. my reply to both queries is, i was asked to do such an enjoyable job, for an honorarium that's adequate to augment my finances. nothing comes close to the joy of performing what i love and being compensated in the process. now, my turn to question: isn't it disturbing that two of the world's most industrially-developed nations should also harbor an impoverished sector despite these countries' filthy richness? modernism indeed doesn't quite deliver its promised social justice; it even exacerbated social dichotomies, as in the outraging case of widened ideological divide between the poor and non-poor. hmmm, i must have sounded too intellectually posturing that my fabulous crush perceived this as an extra-sensory transmission, so he sent me, whoa, a half-naked multimedia picture.
so in spite of the uninterrupted wakefullness, i did not respond to my need to go horizontal (to catch on sleep and not to..., okay?) and just relished in exhilaration. i sensed the avalanche of my IQ points as i surveyed the beautiful bone structures of my crush's lovely face and broad shoulders. why, receiving an mms from gorgeous is more than winning a million-peso jackpot from gay ka na ba?, i mean game ka na ba?. call me moronic, but how can i not stand this zealous devotion when most other gays at the bar did not get his proper attention, even as they're hunky and aggressive and smart-looking? all i can say is, poetry can make my otherwise spiked hair longer than edsa and curlier than dna helix (dahil may diyosa bang hindi mahaba ang buhok?). alright, if you want it less metaphorical, poetry can delight my crush such that he'll present me his calling card.
i can never be sure whether or not the world has tilted a little in favor of the underprivileged, but i am sure about feeling like a beauty queen since i start to become a hunk magnet even for guys who appear merely on my dreams. i used to give myself a pat in the back whenever i grow a fascination over a delicious genetic accident, believing that the most i can approximate this beauty is to be his alalay or something like that. this became especially pragmatic when only straight guys befuddled my world. hell, when i became friends with a heavenly pair of heterosexual couple, i walked along with them at the paved avenues of the university despite people's pointing out that i looked like a sore thumb against my straight male best friend, a campus king, and his erstwhile girlfriend, a local beauty titlist. the ugly remarks whatsoever, i disregarded the monkey feeling because at the moment, i bask in pride and popularity since i came fresh from winning in a regional competition (not a personality contest, much to your relief). when i finally decided to shed my nerdy image in favor of other ideologies, that's when i discovered that there's a gem in all of us waiting to be polished by any or all of the gays in the queer eye show.
some of my surprised friends postulated that i lure men (to their destruction--what, a siren?) on the basis of my good nature, while some theorized that it must be the wit that worked wonders. new acquaintances are outright skeptical if indeed, i get to entice the men i have had passionate trysts with sans the color of money. these people make me laugh: i am not rich and it is not my policy to resort to monetary influences should desperate measures arise. i would like to believe that some of the guys have increased enlightenment and with a dizzying mass of clones parading before them, it is likely that they chose someone different but not too different as to incite their repulsion. if unlike me they don't harbor a disturbing admiration that causes them to drop dead, then it's the way of mother nature--some other genetic makeup can give them epileptic seizures. finally, i want to rest my case by telling everyone that the degree of confidence one carries in his sleeve is directly proportional to the likeliness that the guy he's eyeing will somehow take notice. but then, remember that confidence should not be mistaken for delusion because if you nurture the illusion that you're a frenzy-whisking goddess, chances are that you attract attention only as everybody's object of wrath and ridicule.
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