Topline Report [November 20, 2015]

Good day, all. 

Hope you've had a productive week. Please find below a topline report on the status of project Lui Milanes, 23, San Juan City — we've made excellent progress in some aspects, but little to none in others, and in some cases, there is an obvious decrease in value:

• CAREER — Recently we've seen Lui step up and really commit to his new responsibilities as Account Executive, a position he's held for a little over a month. Pleased to report that we've gotten feedback from some colleagues that his work has been satisfactory and in many instances, excellent. However, there was a recent issue where Lui accidentally sent an unfinished e-mail that had the words "haha," "hehe," and "hoho" as placeholders. This was quickly rectified by him sending an apology and a finished e-mail (proofread three times over for quality assurance) 5 minutes after the initial e-mail.
• KEY TAKEAWAY: Enable "Undo Send"
• RELATIONSHIP — As we all know, Lui has been committed to Ben (29, Antipolo) for the past month and two weeks. Their partnership has proven to be a good balance against CAREER; Lui is inspired to work harder, but he also has Ben to focus on which diverts him from being a complete workaholic. 
• RISK/ISSUE: Although they have made efforts to be together despite their hardly overlapping schedules and locations, they have missed a superficial but/and significant milestone of their relationship: the celebration of their first monthsary*. They have since agreed to make up for it, will keep you guys posted on way forward once confirmed.
• *local social phenomenon similar to the "anniversary," but celebrated on the specific date of the month a couple agrees to officially be together. Lui and Ben celebrate their monthsary during the 7th of the month.
• FINANCE — Although with a higher chance for financial stability, we are having some difficulty gaining traction in accumulating funds. We see Lui's current location of employment as a major factor here, Bonifacio Global City (BGC) is a premium area with many establishments catering to Lui's delusional taste — he constantly purchases goods (mostly food) that he does not need. We are working on mitigating this issue, will keep you guys posted. But offhand, other factors that are contributing to this issue are:
• DEBIT CARD: Lui has recently discovered that instead of using cash to purchase goods, he can just use his Debit Card. This has led him to impulsive buying.
• Recent impulsive purchases include a pair of sweatpants from H&M, Adele's album 25, and VSCo Presets.
• UBER: Closely related to Location and Debit Card, Lui has recently been partial to taking Ubers instead of the usual more cost-efficient modes of transportation (bus, jeep, train).
• WEIGHT — Officially flagging this. Would need further guidance regarding this issue. Maybe we could hop on a quick call to discuss this? Please let us know when you are available soonest as this is crucial.
• @Universe, The Old Gods and the New, Holy Spirit: Kindly asking for your POV on this as we have tried all methods to improve WEIGHT but have not been successful. 

Hope this has been helpful.

As always, please feel free to reach out for any issues and clarifications.

Thanks and have a good day!

Best Regards.

his lover, the lover

he caressed his lover
As his lover came home
but the lover, his lover,
wasn't at all
coming with him

i'm not in the mood

would've worked perfectly
after all, who is in the mood
all the time?

i'm tired

would've been fine,
as the lover worked
a nine to five.

he wondered, why
his lover wouldn't let him touch
his lover anymore

he wondered, and yearned
for the soft mounds of flesh
and fat that gathered in his lover's belly
and thighs
and face
and ass
and he yearned
for his lover's warm mouth
around his yearning cock

but his lover, the lover,
wasn't at all
coming with him

so he gave up and whispered
i love you, lover
and his lover whispered back, with the most emotion he saw that night
i love you, too, you know

what he doesn't know
is that an hour ago
his lover was busy choking
on a stranger's semi-flaccid penis
and fondling a stranger's strangely small
nutsack
and forming circles and swirls on a stranger's asshole

and half an hour ago,
his lover was swallowing
a stranger's cum
and coming with him

I called him Dear.

I'm sure we've all had our "What if...?" moments regarding Almost Lovers, the guys (or girls) we almost had something meaningful with. But have you ever really thought about it, like mapped out the future you might have had if things worked out?

There's this one guy, I refer to him as my The One That Got Away (I wonder how many song references I'll make) because we almost had something, and at the time I felt so full of emotion for him, I felt so ready to do anything for and with him. We didn't work out, and in his words, we probably never will, because there's always something that doesn't go our way, like boyfriends and what have you. But if we did push through, if we did go past that stage of fucking around and actually got serious, I think I may be a little more creative now. A little better with words, maybe, and I probably would be in his field of work. He's a filmmaker, and a damn good one, if I do say so myself. We called each other Dear when we were talking, and one time he surprised me and went to my house (he lives super far away!!!!!!) and I had to sneak him past three dogs and four flights of stairs. He's very sweet and understanding, and he knows exactly what to say to either make you fall for him or make you go away. I should know, I've been on the receiving end. (I like to think I deserved it both times.)

Sometimes I think about him and I get the urge to convince him that we can be a good thing, that we can still have that great relationship we both envisioned when we first met 4 years ago. And then I remember that he doesn't look at me the same way anymore, and that he probably never will, and that's okay. Our relationship is much more poetic that way. He'll always be very special to me, very special in that I'll always think of him with fondness and just the slightest bit of heartache. I was almost in love with him, but alas, almost is never enough (song reference count: 3).

What about you, how different would your life be if a failed almost-relationship worked out?

Maybe I'm doing this job hunting thing all wrong.

Maybe I'm doing this job hunting thing all wrong.

I've applied to a couple of jobs that I really really want, and to a couple that I'm kinda meh about. The ones I like are as follows: copywriter at a really nice ad agency (but they refer to the company as something else, something like "communications center," I forget), editorial assistant at one of the best magazines in the country, and staff writer at a website I actually go to. I landed an interview with the agency, but not with the magazine and the website. The agency hasn't called back and I'm sort of losing hope at this point tbh.

Here's the thing; I want to start a career, not just have a job and a salary, and I want that career to be in an industry that I relate to, where I know the work is significant in the aspects of life that I subscribe to, and where the people are creative, intelligent, and know what's going on. I want my work to be a part of my life, not just an office where I spend 40 days a week in, something that I can forget about when I go home. I want the kind of work that makes me want to get up in the morning, something that invigorates me.

Am I being too ambitious? Am I just not cut out for the kind of work that I want to do? I'd like to think not, because I worked for a magazine before, and even though the job was sometimes hell, I loved going to work. I loved being exposed to the world that I want to be in, and I thought I was making it. Apparently I wasn't.

I wonder what's wrong. Am I too "fun" during interviews? Are my credentials not good enough? (I come from a pretty good school, and I've worked at one of the best publishing houses in the country, just to be clear.) Is it because I don't wear slacks to interviews? If I were thinner and slightly more pogi, would I get the jobs I want? Or am I just not as good as I think I am? Oh dear god I sincerely hope it's not the last one.

Maybe I'm doing this job hunting thing all wrong.

Maybe I should just settle for the proofreader job at the financial publishing company I'm almost sure I'm gonna get (I'm a damn good proofreader). Maybe I should try out English tutoring with companies that hire in the dozens. Maybe I should just settle.

Let the bough break, let it come down crashing.

I've created a playlist of, in my opinion, the most heartbreaking songs. A lot of Robyn, Sara Bareilles, and the odd Atozzio. Sam Smith, Adele, Whitney, Up Dharma Down, etc. Wallowing is a good thing, because it confirms what you're feeling, it makes the situation real, it slaps you in the face that hey, it's actually happening, you're actually alone now. It makes you accept the fact.

What sucks are the happy songs. Whenever I hear a genuinely happy song, the kind that sad people write, it's incredibly heartbreaking. Sad people write the happiest songs because they're not used to it, I think, so when they feel that joy, that blip of happiness, they put it into words so beautifully, they make it a song. So Bareilles's "I Choose You" has been a real bitch lately.

It's not the sad songs that get to me. They help me, actually, because they push me to acknowledge whatever's going on, I get to see what I actually feel and I get the chance to confront those feelings. It's the happy songs that make you feel like shit and make you wish you could go back to two months ago and just not fuck things up. It's the happy songs that remind you, it's the happy songs that say remember when you felt this way?

Here, have my heart, it's all poured out.

Throughout my entire life I've never regretted my decisions. I always believed that whatever I did led me to where I am, and I'm not very big on the "what if" mindset. Sure, I'd regret wearing a red shirt with blue shoes, but those things are trivial. I don't do regret.

Until now.

See, last December, I decided to end things with him. Why, I'm not gonna tell you. Let's just put it in the most cliché way possible; it wasn't him, it was me. And before you roll your eyes and raise your brows, let me tell you, it really was. I never felt that before, where it felt so wrong to be with a person even though there was, technically, nothing wrong. I just knew that something was off, something needed to get fixed, something needed to change. With me, with him, with us, I don't know. I was confused, and I almost never am because I usually keep my feelings in check. And at the time I couldn't.

The saint that he is, of course, understood me, gave me what I needed - space, time, all the things someone going through a personal struggle needs. He was, comme d'habitude, perfect. We didn't stop talking, however. I couldn't stop because I was so used to him, and I didn't want to fully let go. I was incredibly selfish. Still am.

And then he decided he had enough of me hurting him over and over and over again, because to be honest, I did. I hurt him over and over and over again.

And for a while I though he finally realized it, he has finally accepted that I'm not good for him. That he could be so much happier without me. I told him that once, you know. I asked him, "What if you could be happier with someone else?" "But I'm already happy with you," he replied.

And right now that's what's breaking me, that I let go - woop, no, scratch that - I pushed away this person because I was being a brat. I let my emotions get the better of me, I gave in so easily. I convinced him that he's better off without me. And maybe he is, and I don't know what to do anymore.

A lot of people say that the nights are difficult. I disagree. Waking up is much more difficult. I still reach for him when I get up in the morning. And then I remember his little quirks, like constantly scratching his eyes, or falling asleep instantly, oh and on instinct hugging me when I call his name out when I wake up in the middle of the night, and I break inside.

I don't do regret, except now. I regret having hurt him so much, I regret being so selfish when he was the best thing that happened to me, the best person to have come into my life.

And I'm a whore now because if I stop even for a second, if I'm not preoccupied and buzzing, if I have even the slightest blip in activity, I think of him, and how we're not together, and it breaks my heart so so much.

Hello, 2015

It was 11:58 and my family was already scrambling to go outside and watch fireworks. I, on the other hand, was scrambling for, guess what? Scented candles.

I knew my mom had a Raspberry Sorbet one and a Fresh Cotton one but I couldn't find them. I needed the scented candles because my room smelled like dog, see. And not just any dog. My room smelled like two freshly washed dachshunds (freshly washed dachshunds smell like regular smelly dachshunds) because I had just washed my two dachshunds, Woody and Katniss. The smell wouldn't bother me so much if I could just leave the windows and the door to the balcony open, but I couldn't due to the fireworks, which I and my dogs dislike. (I still took several burst shots, though, because Instagram is my religion.) I wasn't going to leave my dogs outside the house so I had to suffer the smell of two freshly washed dachshunds, and to lessen that pain, I really needed the scented candles.

I passed my uncles drinking and my cousins blowing horns and went through my mom's container of candles (yes, she has one). The candles there weren't scented, and I was running out of time. I didn't want to spend New Year looking for candles, I wanted to spend it in my room with my dogs and my teddy bears with the smell of either Raspberry Sorbet or Fresh Cotton wafting in the conditioned air. Thankfully, I found the jar of Raspberry Sorbet-scented candle by the dining room TV. What it was doing there, I don't know.

So I locked myself in my room with the jar of Raspberry Sorbet-scented candle and waited for the fireworks to stop.

Here's the scented candle, it even has my mom's name on it (it's a gift, apparently). The freshly washed dachshunds are fidgety underneath my desk, obviously not shown

* * *

Now it's 12:42 and I'm ready to go to sleep. Happy new year!

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.

An update on my life.

Hello!

I've been employed for the past 4 months (I started May 27). At first, I loved my job. I actually still do, but after a couple of weeks, the shine and glimmer of working starts to wear off. I still adore what I do and I count myself lucky to be not part of the unemployed sect of society.

Having a job, this job in particular, has been immensely great for me. I've broadened my horizons exponentially and my database of contacts has expanded and I've found future employers, should I need to leave. I feel as if every aspect of my personality has improved, or at least changed. I've found out that like most of the things I found intimidating, work isn't half the stress I imagined it would be. 

Work, however, isn't fun. It's fun at the office, sure, but work itself isn't too much of a ball. Or maybe I just have a predetermined mindset that work shouldn't be fun, so it isn't for me. I'm not complaining, though.

Also, I don't know why people keep saying that school is easy compared to work. Work has been a breeze compared to school. I'm not saying that school was difficult, but work is so much easier. Or maybe I'm just lucky enough to be part of a creative and not-too-strict workplace? I dunno, you tell me.

Anyway.

whtvr

Hello.

Ever since my family's move to the San Juan house and my boyfriend's acquiring an apartment in Sta. Mesa, we've been together a lot. At first, around summertime, we'd see each other maybe 3 times a week, when he'd stay the night at our place. As the months went by, however, he's been staying with me all the time. The only time we're apart is when he goes to school and I go to work. He basically lives here.

And I love it.

I realized a couple of weeks ago that I've forgotten how to sleep alone. I used to do it every day for a solid year, and now I can't. I've gotten to used to his arm around me belly, to his hair grazing my neck, to his little pecks on my back before going to sleep, to his general presence in my bedroom (and life) that I've forgotten how to be alone.

Last night, he wasn't here. He went home because he actually still does have a family. I tried sleeping at around 1am and truly fell asleep at 3. To be fair, I actually do find it difficult to sleep without the aid of TV or music or whatever, but last night was extra difficult. I felt that without him beside me, my bed was a little too big, and my legs were a little too free.

omg

I went to the market with my mother today. Lately I've been feeling a lot more responsible and obligated, so I've been trying to help around the house. I got up at a quarter to six, and my mom was getting dressed. She was about to wake up my younger brother, the burlier one lol, when I volunteered to go, instead.

The market is a magical place. To be honest, I love the smell of raw meat. Because I can imagine how it'd smell cooked lol. I discovered how my mom does her shopping, and man was she quick. She'd go through all her suki stalls and order and pay for her meats. She'd do the whole circuit of the market without carrying anything, and then when we've ordered the final things, which were the vegetables, she'd go back to the prepared meats and come out with a bayongfull of beautiful animal carcass <3

We took less than an hour to shop for a week's worth of food.

It's amazing how much your school doesn't teach you. You can be as ~intellectual~ as you'd like to be, but at the end of the day, if you don't know the streets, you don't know shit.

Peace out.

Y'all.

omg

I got a job meotjin.

Okay so the title sucks. Get over it. (It is, by the way, a reference to SNSD's song "I Got A Boy")

I went to a job interview yesterday. That wasn't really my goal, though. My boyfriend asked me to go with him to get something from his dad, aaaall the way to Binondo (I live in San Juan!!). So I had an idea to just pass my resume to Northpoint (which is owned by boyfriend's sister, and operated by boyfriend's brother and sister-in-law...... okay) and maybe get an interview.

I don't know why I keep expecting these harsh and unfriendly environments whenever I enter something new, like college, or a forum, or whatever. I always get "disappointed" because things turn out to be a lot more casual than I'd expect them to be. That's good, I guess, because then my nervousness just goes away and I start... babbling. Lol.

After almost 2 hours of talking, the executive editor asked me when I can start, and in my head I was screaming "omigod i got the job? on that interview? am i just that good? lol."

So yeah, I have a job as the editorial assistant of Gala magazine under Northpoint and I'm a happy platypus BYE SORRY ABOUT IT.

Sup.

I'm not going to start with "It's been a while..."

So what's happened since I last posted? I finished PI 100 with only a 2.00 because I did not go with the class to the shitstorm that was a field trip, I didn't stab anyone trying to get a PE class last June (I got 2, so yey me, I may still graduate on time), I changed my thesis topic from Postmodern Film Commentary to Drag Culture in Media, aaaaaaand that's pretty much it (school-wise, anyway).

I got a BlackBerry to replace the really sad excuse for a phone that I was using when my poor sweet iPhone died on me (finally, after 2-ish years), I've pined over Yohan every day for the post, oh, 5 months, I've gotten myself a Paul (and this is the first time I mention his name on the Internet that is not Facebook), and I've written more decent poems in a couple of weeks than I have ever in my whole life (minus the couple of weeks, obviously).

I understand Postmodernism just a tiny bit more, and I've gotten better at making friends with people whom I normally wouldn't even think of thinking about, I've given a lot of really helpful advice (I think) to people who think they need it. I know better. I always do.

A visiting professor from the University of Manchester is teaching us Hispanic Literature. Her name is Rocio.

the problem is

that i know no one is ever going to take me seriously. i'll always be the annoying fat fag, and he'll be the cool hipster-y person who takes amazing photos and isn't fat.

so yes, i will claw at anyone who attempts to come near him, because he's the last person who will take me seriously. and when he finds someone else, i will be left alone with the son of henry kipping, dying from despair because my cousin did not come back for me.

for a while there i though i was leonor rivera. i'm fine now.

For the jerk who kissed so well, he broke my heart.

After a long time
that was the first time
that I felt my lips
melt into another's

As you grabbed my hips
and I scratched your back
I could feel my soul
leave my body behind

I felt it, your tongue
sliding over mine
and when you bit me
I almost cried

when I got home
I smelled of smoke
and of frying fish
and of desperation

     for the jerk who kissed so well, he broke my heart

From the notebook

As of now, I don't think I'll ever see him as less than "the boy I loved with all my heart." I can't be friends with him, and I don't think I'll be able to move on from him. I mean, he's Yohan. The Yohan.


As I write, SNSD's Time Machine is playing in the background. You can just go ahead and Google the lyrics + translation.

It was, simply

It could have been a metaphor for something like

Maybe if you try too hard, you end up on the ground. Hurt and alone, and with a whole lot of noise blaring around you. If you wait for something so specific, so improbable, and then put all your strength into it, you end up with nothing. Nothing but pain.

but I'm sure it's not.

Or it could have been a sign. A sign of things to come. I will get hurt with the things I love the most.

but I'm sure it's not.

It was, simply, my knee snapping as I danced to Girls' Generation's latest hit The Boys. And me falling to the ground with the girls still screaming in my ears.