I found this wheat pancake thing at the back of my pantry. I thought I’d give it a try.
They tasted exactly like wheat muffins <3
A couple of days ago, a friend of mine announced that he (keeping identity to a bare minimum here. Actually, let’s name my friend as Jude, one of the greatest names!) is in a relationship with a person of the same-sex, hence, the title of this blog. I’ve actually been having thought’s on Jude’s sexuality ever I first met him. The dude’s really intelligent, though he can be quite klutzy. He is a really awesome friend, and he’s very open to new things and new ideas. When he updated his Facebook status as “now in a relationship,” a load of people bombarded his wall with questions. Although, nobody knew that he was in a gay relationship (the word gay is not offensive. I would know, I had gender studies at uni.) He messaged me on that same night saying: My face just lit up like a fucking Christmas tree on Christmas eve. I LOVE gay couples, especially gay guy couples. Why? Well, I guess it’s because I have a bias for gay guy couples, and I was once in a gay relationship. This relationship was my second-to-the-last I had before I met my ex- (I love how she’s just a basis for everything in this blog.) This was also the point when women started to bore me (I apologise to the female readers), and I needed some extra excitement in my life. I’ll be brutally honest, all I wanted from that relationship was sex, and I played him into thinking that I truly had feelings for him. I got what I wanted, and I basically threw him away because I found another person that could “fulfil my carnal desires.” My gay relationship ended badly, and it was very ugly. At any rate, I wished Jude good luck and help if he ran into any problems.
In terms of me getting into a relationship, I have no idea where I’m headed. Acads and uni seem to be the centre of my existence, and it’s frustrating to know that I don’t have time to like someone, to let her know that I do genuinely love her or to make her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Ironically, I had time to tell her that I wouldn’t want to see her (here).
I am all sorts of confusion. I might write about my gay relationship one day, omitting the sexual content of course.
A song by my very talented cousin! I have I high standards when it comes to art, and this is fan-blooming-tastic!
When I was a kid, I had one of those friends who just accepted me for what I was. I called him Tan-Tan, as we all did, since we were like 6 or 7-years-old. He was an all-around good guy and smart to boot. We first met through our parents, I don’t exactly know when, but we pretty much kicked it off straight away. We would have sleepovers at his place, and we would play the heck out of Crash Bandicoot. That game was the last game we played together.
I met him years after at a reunion. I had gotten fat, and he had gotten a lot whiter. He apparently had some sort of rare blood disease, but it wasn’t so apparent then. We talked about how we did and what we did since we saw each other. I took up football; he took up archery. I went to musical theatre during summer; he went to science camp during summer. I had turned out to be a delinquent (I never told him that though), he had turned out to be gifted.
A couple of years more, we met up again. I don’t remember much, but I do remember my mother being disappointed at me. “They keep telling me how well Tan-Tan is doing! He has all these awards from school and competitions! AND ALL I COULD TELL THEM WAS THAT YOU COULD ACT!” Then she would hit me while we drove home, and my father would do nothing but keep his hands at two and ten.
A few more years passed, and I heard that he got into the Ateneo School of Medicine and Public Health, one of the country’s top medical schools. He wanted to be a doctor and help those who had the same disease that he had. It’s a noble pursuit and one that I could never top, even until now.
One or two years passed after I heard he got into med school, he was admitted in a hospital. His body was weakening. Continue reading “I Would Trade My Soul For You (part 1)”
Around three weeks ago, I finally decided to buy something that most men never thought existed. The reason why I bought this was because of a blog that I’ve been following since 2011 entitled Art of Manliness. I was looking for a way on how to grow a very manly mustache, just like the ones we see in the movies set in the 1800s. I was fascinated by this art of being “manly”, and most of these practices aren’t practiced anymore (see what I did there?) I find that quite sad.
I came across this post about shaving with safety razors, and I decided to give it a go. So I went down to my local drugstore and bought myself a box of Gillette Rubie razors and one cheap-ass plastic safety razor (definitely not like the one depicted on the right).
First thing I notice when I used the safety razor is the difficulty of using it. My Gillette Mach3 gives me the comfort of shaving quickly and cleanly, because it has a swivel that goes up and down while I shave. Art of Manliness was right, it takes time and patience when using the safety razor, and it was something I had to learn the painful way. I cut my beautiful face five times when I first tried it out.
I got used to adjusting the angle of the razor while I shaved (after five or more cuts, that is). I’ve never had such a relaxing experience doing such a mundane task. It usually takes me three to five minutes to shave when I use the Mach3. With the safety razor however, it takes me more than ten minutes. But in those ten minutes, my mind is so aware with what I’m doing, because it takes precision to get the right shave WITHOUT cutting yourself. Last shave I had was around five days ago, and I must say, my face has never been so smooth.
I’m looking to upgrade from my crappy plastic safety razor to a heavy-duty metal safety razor (like the one above.) I hear that I can get better control from using that. That, and it’s just much more manly to use. After I do master using the safety razor, I’m going to upgrade to a straight razor or how the barbers in my country like to call it: labaha (with a razor cartridge at first, then a proper one when I get enough cash.)
I hope to see you soon with my baby smooth face.
There’s a girl in one of my classes that I like observing. Although, first I must explain that one of my obsessions are women. Women are interesting, delicate, surprising, delicious and captivating creatures. This girl in my class is one of them.
As I sit behind this girl whose name I’ve never gotten; her body language begins to give me a picture of who she is. She is, as Jose Garcia Villa would say, “as slender as a bell.” The clothes she wears masks her physique but is obvious when she sits down. Her polo embraces her hour-glass waist, showing the smooth magnetic slope that falls to her hips.
The manner of how she sits is most curious. She crosses her legs like man, for reasons I do not know. Probably because she continuously strokes her inner thighs. It is for pleasure? I do not know, but the room is quite cold, so that might be the reason. How I wish I could probe into that mind of hers. Everyone else in the room consumes this freeze by chattering, laughing and shifting uncomfortably in these old wooden seats. Continue reading “Movement 2: The Girl in Front”
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