Strike A Pose

My favorite yoga pose is Eka Pada Rajakapotasana, which translates to One-legged King Pigeon Pose. A friend of mine said it's my million-dollar-pose, because if there was a yoga contest, the moment I do that pose, all the other contestants would fold. Lately, however, I am having difficulty doing it, let alone holding it for many breaths.

I am not a yoga newbie, but I do seem to have lost a lot of my flexibility because I haven't been practicing regularly. To be honest, its health benefits as complementary to my HIV treatment are just secondary to me. My real goal is to find the limits of my body and to push it under the guidance of the instructor. I want to achieve a greater range of motion. To me, being able to do a pose such as the King Pigeon and hold it for extended periods is exhilarating. I would like to one day be able to do a full leg split. If you think I am doing yoga for all the wrong reasons, spare me the sermon. I've heard it all, I've read the book by B.K.S. Iyengar, and I know what I am doing.


Now I've set my sights on another yoga pose: Parivrtta Surya Yantrasana, or the Compass Pose. It's got such beautiful lines. Notice how my favorite poses point the head skyward. I think it reflects my longing for greater heights and movement freedom. Being stifled by something like HIV, I look to art for emancipation. Plus, the poses look kick-ass.

QLPC

I am so bored, yet restless at the same time. As always, I am at a transition phase in my career. I have become familiar with it now; I seem to be jumping from one transition to another, always with a goal in sight but never quite reaching it. I don't mind the wait as much as I used to now. Instead, I focus on what's within reach. And that is my health.

I am happy to report that my CD4 count is now within range of an immunocompetent person. I also have normal chest findings as per my X-ray result last week. I have maintained my weight which is actually two or three pounds higher than the ideal for my height, if Wii-Fit is to be believed. I have not missed a single dose of my antiretroviral drugs, and has been religiously taking my multivitamins. I haven't been to the gym in quite a while, which I admit is because of laziness. I hope I find a gym buddy who'll coax me into the fitness habit. I have missed a couple or so yoga sessions in Yoga For Life because of some odd conflicts in my ironically wide-open schedule. All in all, I have no complaints about my health.

I have also resumed the skin care regimen which I have neglected for months for reasons inclusive of indolence. I have long vied for smoothness, and I am armed with the proper creams and washes for it. I also paid my dentist a visit and a certain amount of cash for prophylaxis. Now my pearly whites have their squeaky-clean feel restored where brushing and flossing fall short. I also had a barber shave my noggin down to what may be described as military, much to my mom's and some friends' dismay. I love that a clean stroke of a razor can polarize people around me. They either love it or hate it. My BFF is sure to love it, ovoid that he is.

Sex is left in the backburner as of late. I have forgotten when my last lay was. Not that the opportunity hasn't presented itself, especially now that the bed weather is making guys' hormones go haywire, mine included. I have made the firm decision to give my disco stick and my man-pussy some rest, in preparation for someone who'd give more than a fuck. I don't want to rush headlong into Couplesville. One wrong turn and I'd end up in Splitsville instead, which is adjacent to Bittertown and Remorse City. You don't get into a relationship when you're lonely, they say, you get into one when you're ready. I don't think I'm ready yet. And so I subsist on all the effing porn I can get my non-stroking hand on.

In sum, my career is in standstill, my health is robust, beautification is in progress, and sex and love are put on hold. A typical profile of a gay guy in quarter life, um, petit crise. I'll close with the definition of QLC as performed by The Rembrandts.

So no one told you life was gonna be this way
Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's DOA
It's like you're always stuck in second gear
When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year

but...

I'll be there for you~

Let's Go Green

The About Me section of my blog came from this poem by Gwendolyn Brooks. I chanced upon it while I was languishing in the depression phase of grief for the newly diagnosed. It serves as a reminder for me and hopefully for the readers of this blog that we, I, must stay and fight.

-=-=-

To The Young Who Want To Die

Sit down. Inhale. Exhale.
The gun will wait. The lake will wait.
The tall gall in the small seductive vial
will wait will wait:
will wait a week: will wait through April.
You do not have to die this certain day.
Death will abide, will pamper your postponement.
I assure you death will wait. Death has
a lot of time. Death can
attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is
just down the street; is most obliging neighbor;
can meet you any moment.
You need not die today.
Stay here—through pout or pain or peskyness.
Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.

Graves grow no green that you can use.
Remember, green’s your color. You are Spring.

Sullen

Geez, my last post made me feel like I'm such an old sourpuss. I actually don't feel that way. I'm just turning 25, for Pete's sake. But yeah, whenever I'm not with friends, I turn into this dour, humorless, boring guy.

For example, people at work see me as a snob. Mahirap daw ako pakisamahan. But you know what? I couldn't help it. The time I spent at work was the same time I learned about my status. Naturally I was at my wits' end trying to stay productive despite of having this virus wreaking havoc in my body, that's all! I mean, who would stay all happy-cheery during those days, right? Worst part is, I can't explain it to them why I was so grumpy. All they knew was that I'm a bitch. I was good at what I do, yes, but I was a bitch. At least it was easy to leave.

But that has left me wondering, how long am I gonna stay this way? I dislike being an asshole. I'm a nice person by default. Too nice to the point of boredom. Seriously, I've no social skills whatsoever. It's a good thing though that I'm past trying to please everyone around me. But still, it bugs me every once in a while.

Grand Scale

Okay, so I've been doing a lot of stuff lately. Since knowing about my status, it felt like time is running out, and if I will ever make any difference, it has to be at the soonest time possible. That to me meant leaving my current job and getting on a career track that would allow me to reach out to as many PLWHAs as I possibly can the way I know how.

I enrolled in graduate school. It's something I've wanted to do from the very beginning - to pursue the highest degree I can possibly attain. My motivation back then was just to gain bragging rights; I wanted to show people around me that I can make something out of my being a nerd. Now that I'm actually doing it, I've a different reason for enrolling: I want to help. Being able to take up a higher degree opens more avenues for me to aid the cause. I want to join the movers-and-shakers of the PLWHA community in the country and improve our lives further. I want to help in making sure that if there are new developments for the condition, it reaches the Philippine shores.

Everyone of us is born into this world not simply to become a passive observer, but an interactive participant. Our uniqueness allows us to make contributions to society the way we know best. There's no big or small when it comes to helping others, what matters is that we do our part. I can't wait to get started on mine.

I can't wait, because it's the only way I can redeem myself.

My Side

We broke up a day before our 28th monthsary. He can't forgive me for what I've done. I contracted the virus through unprotected sex with other guys. It is not the fact that I've become HIV-positive that he's angry to me about, but rather the manner with which I got it. I was promiscuous. I got it where I could find it, and picked something along the way. It all happened last year. I know, because I had myself tested early last year and I came out negative.

Why did I do it? Why did I sleep around when I was in a relationship?

I was diagnosed with erectile dysfunction four or five years ago. It is caused by a hormonal derangement from a tumor in my head. Since then, I have undergone medication to treat the underlying cause. But I did not exclude the fact that the problem might also be psychological. So I began experimenting with various kinks and quirks that might trigger a better arousal.

Then I met my now-ex boyfriend. He swept me off my feet. He was (is) everything I've ever wanted in a man. I told him about my condition, and yet he accepted me. He did his best to please me sexually, and eventually he triumphed. He became the first guy who has ever made me orgasm. No one has done that before. I was always the doer. It's probably because my tumor was there during my experience with other guys, and it got treated by the time my boyfriend came along, but the fact remains that he's the first to make me cum on his own. I was hooked.

He is a very busy person. Lives literally depend on him. That means 24 to 48 hours of no contact, hours before receiving replies to texts. And when he is present, he's always tired, would rather just stay home and sleep, talk some if I'm lucky. Prior to all these, I tried to be supportive. I sent him food when he's too busy to go out and get food, forwent plans to go out, sacrificed time, money, effort and sometimes pride for his sake. I put his needs ahead of mine.

Things changed when he began meeting other guys. To this day, I do not know if he had sexual relations with other guys. But he admitted to meeting them. I felt betrayed. It shattered the complete and absolute trust I gave to him for the acceptance he made me feel. I told him I forgave him, and I tried. All I ended up doing is denying what happened. It has sown seeds of paranoia in me. I began looking for faults in him, spying on everything that may contain incriminating information. And the worst thing that happened was that I plotted revenge.

I gradually reverted back to swinger mode. At every act, I always thought, oh, he's doing it anyway. Also, I wanted to test myself if I can still get it up despite his absence. I was challenging the treatments I had. All in all, I got reckless and began doing it irresponsibly, unprotected.

Why didn't I just let him go? I couldn't. I didn't want to lose him. Like I said earlier, he is everything I have ever wanted in a man, and I wasn't prepared to lose him. I thought I can never find another like him or better than him. I was selfish. I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I sunk to the lowest that I can become.

So here I am now, alone and with a major crisis looming. So far I've only told one very good friend about the whole story. I've told another, short of the sordid details. My ex-boyfriend still wants to be around for me, which he says is out of love, but which I think is out of pity. He is an HIV/AIDS advocate to begin with. But since he cannot forgive me for what I did, we can no longer be together. He says he needs time, my friend said we need time. I need time too. Sadly for me, time is a luxury I can no longer afford.

Please, call me Frog.

This is where I shall write my thoughts. They're gaining in number uncontrollably, and they need to be contained. More so now than ever, since finding out that I am living with HIV. Wow, that felt awkward. Reading what I just typed felt surreal, unsettling, troubling. I am currently fighting the urge to hit the backspace. HIV is not something you want to associate to yourself in writing if you are as insecure as I am. I am, however, on a mission to preserve my sanity by saying what I have to say, especially now that I am being forced to curtail my sentiments for the sake of my relationship. Not to mention that the Internet offers a veil of anonymity, under which I shall cower as I type bravely. Oh and yes, I am in a relationship. The discordant type. We are both suffering from my condition, and it pains me to see him buckle under the pressure of tending to the sick. My support system can only handle so much, and I don't want to overload it.

I am unloading my burden here, limited only by character spacing, inarticulateness, and IT department blocking. Fuck you, HIV. We've new weapons.

Oh, and read Murakami's After the Quake. Please, call me Frog.