I'm a slut, but I'm a slut for everyone.

I was a very strong advocate of coming out of the closet when I was younger and very anti-straight and anti-"discreet." I didn't like the idea of a gay man not admitting to being gay and I felt that that hindered gay rights and all that political and social stuff even though I didn't really understand a lot of it back then. My mindset was if you're gay, you have to announce to the world that you're gay, you have to be proud of your homosexuality, otherwise you're setting the gay agenda back.

I'm kidding. We don't have a gay agenda. Wink wink.

Lately, however, I have become a lot more pro-choice. Because one's sexuality is one's business (and the business of one's partner/s, if any, to a lesser extent, of course), and because discreet shaming and in-the-closet shaming is very similar to gay shaming; it's discrimination. Maybe being a flaming 'mo works for me, but it might not for all the other fags out there.

(I can say fags, right? No?)

Another reason I've become pro-choice is the realization that sexuality, like any other aspect of one's identity, is very fluid and susceptible to change. This isn't a world that's divided into two, straight and gay, it's a world where there are bisexuals, pansexuals, asexuals, etc. (sorry if I missed what you identify as, kisses). There are also people who choose not to identify with a label, simply because they feel that they don't really fit in any of them, and that's totally fine.

I'm saying this because I think I'm one of those people who choose not to identify with a label. Sure, I am your stereotypical millenial ~cultured~ witty bakla, I am loud and funny and bitchy and I have watched every episode of America's Next Top Model, at least until Lisa won. But my behavior, my appearance, the way I talk and move and suck dick isn't necessarily congruent with my sexual preference. Yes, I like boys. A lot. But I may also be into women, and I've also entertained thoughts of engaging with transsexuals and transgendered individuals and cross-dressers.

Basically what I'm saying is I'm a slut, but I'm a slut for everyone. I want to experience any and everything, and that includes orgasms from all parts of the gender and sexuality spectrum.

I have never been one to give up (mostly because I don't take on things I know I can't handle). I've always taken pride in the fact that I stand by what I say and that I stick to my principles. If I'm gonna lie, I'm gonna do it really well that even I would believe it. I think this comes from a fear of being called out, of being told that I'm going against what I say and that I'm not as good as I claim to be.

Lately, however, I've stopped caring about how I look to others, specifically the office. And I don't mean look as in my outfit and my hair, but look as in me as a person. To be honest, I've just stopped caring about this job. Not that I purposefully don't do my job, more like I'm gonna do the bare minimum. I arrive at the office an hour after official time-in, and I leave the moment the clock strikes 6. The first thing I do when I get to my desk is update on social media; actual work doesn't happen until my boss has something for me to do. The amount of work I actually do I do in 3 hours.

If I were a total asshole, I'd just stop coming in and work from home. But I'm not, so I just come in late and pretend to be writing e-mails when the general manager walks by.

I've stopped caring and I feel like I should feel guilty. But I've stopped caring about feeling guilty, too, so...

P.S. I only have 8 days left until my resignation kicks in so GOODBYE COMPANY

It's the stuff of values textbooks and GMRC homework.

Earlier today, I took my usual route to work. A jeep to Pinaglabanan, and then a jeep to Ortigas, where I would catch a bus to Boni. As I got on the bus, I noticed that the conductor seemed out of sorts, and not the sad melancholy kind. He seemed hungover, or still drunk. I didn't mind because I didn't really care. As he did his rounds and gave out tickets, I handed him three 5-peso coins (fare is Php12). Another passenger handed him a bill, and then he handed me my ticket. I still had my palm out waiting for my change. He asked me "magkano binayad mo?" to which I answered "fifteen." He replied, brusquely, "wala ka bang dos?" to which I answered, meekly (because I'm super sweet and demure), "wala po."

He started grumbling under his breath and I found it funny because dude, it's not like I gave you a thousand-peso bill, calm down. I only need my three pesos back.

He handed me a 20-peso bill and a couple of coins. He misheard me and thought I said "fifty."

Right then and there I debated with myself whether I should keep the extra extra extra change or give it back, and right then and there I felt guilty because I shouldn't need to think about it; it was the right thing to do to tell him that he gave me far too much change and be done with it.

But the guy was rude, and it was only 7 in the morning.

What stapled my decision to keep the extra cash was how he acted during the rest of the ride. He hit me twice while walking along the aisle (and I understand that people will bump into you on public transport, but he hit me hard and didn't even have the decency to utter a sorry or an excuse me). He was rude to other passengers and seemed over it. Unlike most other conductors, he didn't herd the passengers into a neat fashion, nor did he alert passengers regarding bus stops.

I didn't need the extra money, but I'm not gonna be nice to someone who is obviously incompetent at what they do (how could he have confused what I gave him when it was only just me and one other guy who paid at the time?) and doesn't care if he's rude to other people. So thanks kuya, for the extra Php25!!! <3

an update on work and relationships and blah

Remember that scene in The Devil Wears Prada where Nigel (Stanley Tucci) tells Andy (Hathaway) that she's doing well at work because her personal life is going up in smoke? I can relate to the opposite of that.

This is my 15th day (3rd week) of working for this publishing house, and I've never been so miserable. Before we get into the sordid details, lemme tell you how I got this job: I initially applied for an editorial position. I was interviewed on a Wednesday and was asked to come back for a second one the following Friday. During those moments, I really wanted the job (if you follow me on twitter, you'd know that). I was really hopeful and I was thirsty for employment after 4 months of bumming around. The weekend passed and the following Monday, I was asked to come back again, to be interviewed by the boss of the marketing department. The marketing assistant went into maternity leave and they needed a replacement. I agreed to take on the job on the conditions that I not lose a job when the marketing assistant comes back and that I still be considered for the editorial position. They agreed.

After two weeks, I drafted a resignation letter and was about to hand it in when the girl who hired me and the boss from a different department talked to me and somehow persuaded me to stay a little longer and let myself simmer a little more. I don't wanna get into why I'm so miserable, but I will summarize it by using a line I told the boss from editorial: "There's no perfect company and no perfect job, but it's like everything wrong about a company and a job can be found here."

And because I'm so miserable with my job, I've found myself being extra sweet and loving to my boyfriend. I have never been happier with our relationship. Whenever I get too stressed with work or my boss, I call him up and text him and for a little while, everything bad just disappears.

Last Wednesday, he picked me up from work and I was over the moon with joy. It had been a tense day, what with my boss barking at everyone, and seeing him outside our office just gave me the high I needed for such a low day.

When I start crying because of this job, I know that's when I'll be the most in love with him.