Want Dick, Tracy?

Want Dick, Tracy? (07-18-2009)

It just suddenly became unbearable, the office asininity, that is. I haven’t written anything for quite some time (2 years of wonderwalling). I’m feeling as though I’ve acquired a dismal amount of rust in the functional sector of my brain and I’m trying to shake some off if possible. It just cannot be as pristine as it used to be. Getting older is scarier if dumbening is part of the process. Anyway, in this chosen “career” of mine, neuron death rate is included in the job description. Yes, we do consider that as occupational hazard. I’d be brain dead at the age of 35.

Anyhow, I’ve read something interesting lately. When I say interesting, I don’t mean intestine-churning, so no – it’s not the Twilight series. But something rather about the Twilight girls, Kristen Stewart (a.k.a. Belya) and Nikki Reed (one of them vamps), being amongst the envied-hence-oppressed-minority. Well, it’s not really a fab thing if Kristen is indeed gay. I mean, she dated Michael Angarano for four freakish years, yes; the Sky High boy who went all muscular in the Forbidden Kingdom yet retained the minute face of Jack McFarlane. If she can beard as long as that, then everything for her must be a phase. Nikki Reed, on the other hand… is a completely different story.

Here’s one during their New Moon photo shoot. Certainly not done for publicity, I don’t think the gay community is really a target market for movies such as this.

Ok. I’m just psyched. I was forced to watch the Tweaklight movie due to peer pressure and sanity lapse, I know I’d be forced to watch the New Loon sequel as well, but at least now there’s actually something to look forward to.

Another very interesting faction I’ve stumbled upon lately is Bleighton (Blake Lively and Leighton Meester). Yep, Gossip Girls’ Serena and Blair. There’s this web shrine containing gazillions of photos of them posing for… who cares who they’re posing for. Who cares why they’re doing it? It’s just fun to stare and smile… *a very wide smile* while hoping it’s true… that they do understand.

Pretty much everyone has been out lately. Even in our marshland of an office, eGay Inc. has recruited crows of the same murder. It’s just sad that the classes dominating the fields right now are orcs in search of a Master Piece. Ergo, leading to the assumption that everyone who belongs to the lesbian community is rummaging to have a dick. I don’t want a dick, I don’t need one -- in my mouth or in my pants, attached or penetrating.

It’s just at times dismal, the way people presuppose. If being what the society coined as “normal” works for you then shut the gates of your straight lifestyle and quit convincing other people that that’s the righteous path to follow. Sexual preference does not delineate or degrade the value of a person. Close-mindedness does though.

Straight people should keep straight idealisms to themselves. It’s one way of keeping respect in the axis of all that must remain taboo and fighting the very infectious idiopathic existence of those living detached from the guidance of their brainstems, especially in call centers.

And with this, I succumb to awesomeness, Blake and Leighton… you complete me.

The L Word Parody

“Tomboy ka ba, anak?”
"Mom, I prefer the term lesbian."
- The Narcissistic Princess

It’s been a few weeks since I had the pseudo-confidence to admit to my mother that I am one of those legendary evil-possessed residents of Sodom and Gomorra. It wasn’t exalting, pukish -- yeh, traumatic, condemning, relieving, all sorts of emotions combined in this thermoplasmic cocoon of immense inhibition. I know that she knows about my sexuality someway somehow, but denial was her only cushion and I dared take it away, totally drastic and inconsiderate of me.

I don’t blame her. Growing up with this culture… Being a Catholic and a moron… I shouldn’t really expect much open-mindedness from someone who has been held captive for a very long time by the vilest creature that ever walked the surface of this planet, a.k.a. my grandmother.

Our conversation or my confession slash interrogation was actually hilarious, or rather ridiculous, for its explicit contents. My mother’s not very well-known for her thinking abilities but the injection of anger or disgust or misbelief or whatever it was that dwelled upon her, pushed her to retire to retorts that made gore and violence pleasurable to the eyes of minors.

Inclusive of lines such as, “Ang sarap sarap maging babae…” and, “Sinasayang mong mukha mo sa babae ka lang papatol…”

Never have I once said that I didn’t like being a girl. The Ang sarap sarap maging babae line was conclusive of a misconception that I wanted to be a chap. How gross is that? Why the hell would I want to be something that I am not attracted to in the first place?

This society we’re struggling to survive in believes in the dismal idea that we, lesbians, are willing to give up everything in exchange for a cock. Trade the curves for chest hair and a mono brow. Prove Jack Nicholson’s character (in As Good As It Gets) right as to how a woman should be defined –- a man without reason and responsibility. Concur with me when I state, it is the other way around.

The machismo. The double-standard views. The homophobia. The constant propaganda of the religious that we are amongst the children of Beelzebub. How do we break free from all these?

After all the pride marches there are still only four countries honoring the legality of same sex relationships. Though, I don’t really care cos I don’t believe in marriage, and I don’t join the pride marches. A lack on my part? Sue me. Provide me a lawyer.

Yet, who’s to blame really? The pretenders? The bandage wearers? Those who choose to strap their bosoms with a male’s under garment garter? Those who’d rather have their hair two inches above the ear and three inches above the nape? Those who aren’t willing to accept their being a woman at all?

We cry, “Discrimination!” We yell, “Acceptance!” When most of us haven’t truly acknowledged who and what we are in the barest essence of being ourselves – biologically female and not able to grow a beard.

Resulting to brands. Submitting to roles. Adding confusion to an already confused sexuality. Is uncertainty such an in thing now that the more perplexities there are the better?

Nowadays, there’s a new opening query in lezpinay (a lesbian channel, obvious by its name), it’s no longer “asl?” It’s now, “femme?” Well, amazing, aren’t we all females here? Or, “f2f?” I don’t know if that stands for ‘free 2 fuck?’. If it happens likewise in a faggots’ chat room, would they have to result to queries such as “m2m?” or “papable?”

It’s sordid. Supposedly, you are in an all women chat room, able to expose that element of you that remains skulking in the closet when you’re with your value-laden family and friends, and still, you’re forced to limit your already limited range to a more limited variety.

Women acting like men. Women not wanting to date the women who are acting like men. Women who do not want to date the women who are not acting like men because (they say) it’s like dating their best friend. What’s with all the classifications? What’s with all the labels? We’re all part of one group here. We’re all members of the oppressed. Quit shunning each other for crying out loud!

I got propositions:

Those who want to prance around with their humongous clothes, shave their imaginary mustache, grow armpit hair, and screw girls for a living – whore around for a period of time, save enough money, surgically complete your long-imagined forms of transmutation, and get the hell out of our genre.

Those who are under the influence of the Anne-Heche-Lesbian-For-A-While-But-Later-Married-A-Guy-And-Forgot-About-Everything-That-Happened-With-Ellen-Degeneres Syndrome – make up your minds and don’t use your own version of selective amnesia as an excuse to be welcomed back to the hypocritical majority.

And finally, for those who are happy for being what they are, not engulfed by pretensions and not humiliated by their sexuality – steer clear from my mother.

“Ang babae para sa lalaki, hindi mo pwedeng sabihin na mahal mo yung kapwa mo babae, ano ka.” Long pause. Clattering of plates. Tinkling of utensils. Stern look back at me with gaping mouth. “Anong gagawin nyo non magpipingger-pinggeran?!”