tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58152852359049530782024-02-22T22:47:39.503+08:00kiks 2.0to eat, breathe, sleep, love and battle hong kongKikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.comBlogger140125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-33891349760355849362012-06-09T18:01:00.000+08:002012-06-09T18:01:00.181+08:00PH9 - Godly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://iseeahappyface.com/upload/i-have-the-body-of-a-god125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://iseeahappyface.com/upload/i-have-the-body-of-a-god125.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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When I saw this at a friend's FB page, I thought it's funny.<br />
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Somehow, it, FB or Facebook, does deliver.<br />
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Buddha bless... us.<br />
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FB has stocks to count on as blessings.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-85693963141914086552012-06-08T09:21:00.000+08:002012-06-08T09:32:06.527+08:00PH8 - VFF<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-size: 13px;">My New VFFs - the Vietnam Football Federation</span></td></tr>
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<br />
I had them <strike>for</strike> at breakfast this morning.<br />
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Feeling happy and filled myself. Sorry, Mislang.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Note: Photos will be posted once i have taken them.</span>Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com0Hanoi, Hoan Kiem District, Hanoi, Vietnam21.0333333 105.8521.0036918 105.81051799999999 21.0629748 105.889482tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-77806209872302660502012-06-07T10:37:00.001+08:002012-06-07T10:37:24.361+08:00PH7 - Wanna wanna<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-81273901389014142662012-06-06T12:36:00.000+08:002012-06-06T12:51:05.451+08:00PH6 - Mac<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQS7OQubxCQVRlW0rwpUP8j0_YUNNWnyqKBRuaozAsGD9N74Sl7Rx0CvvzbD2Q26OXyki2riozH47c1DfslnqTD-PUK1KRsFnbSgNqF25vo11zL6gXXmI1lweENg6gZvOaT2sS5IX_jhFU/s1600/560254_10150857158676048_42268808_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQS7OQubxCQVRlW0rwpUP8j0_YUNNWnyqKBRuaozAsGD9N74Sl7Rx0CvvzbD2Q26OXyki2riozH47c1DfslnqTD-PUK1KRsFnbSgNqF25vo11zL6gXXmI1lweENg6gZvOaT2sS5IX_jhFU/s320/560254_10150857158676048_42268808_n.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I love my MacAir.</div>
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Especially since it is free.</div>Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-3706519184638329312012-06-05T21:00:00.000+08:002012-06-05T21:00:11.543+08:00PH5 - Lessons from a Tranny<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm07zxRlAx9fNeE_31X882xTr5-u3wPYubqAEYmcHwzI82EAm1uNq-1j3Bq4CSElkrbxRJEdtdUbFTDdQTi74z9ESw8YoxhkdlZ82omXOnKq2e-pus96AZ9zczN1LvrCdPSOZuWcSUQ_w6/s1600/IMG_9907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm07zxRlAx9fNeE_31X882xTr5-u3wPYubqAEYmcHwzI82EAm1uNq-1j3Bq4CSElkrbxRJEdtdUbFTDdQTi74z9ESw8YoxhkdlZ82omXOnKq2e-pus96AZ9zczN1LvrCdPSOZuWcSUQ_w6/s400/IMG_9907.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brenda, my transpinay friend</td></tr>
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1. A woman trapped in a man's body is a transwoman, pre-op or post-op. <div>
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2. Ibid for the man trapped in a woman's body. Case in point: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdMKlrtAY7c&feature=related" target="_blank">him</a>. <div>
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<div>
<div>
3. Trannies did not complicate gender preference. They just expanded the definition. How?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
A homosexual is attracted to the same sex. A heterosexual is attracted to the opposite sex. A bisexual is attracted to both sexes. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Considering transwomen are women and transmen are men, the presence of the sex organ is not something one contests but requires in their gender preference. Hence, my gender preference would then be a man with a penis. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
4. A man who wants to have a vagina because he wants to attract more men is not a transsexual.</div>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
5. Trannies are not my enemies when it comes to men. They have a market different from mine.</div>
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6. They can be top.</div>
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<br /></div>Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-55845662608752744362012-06-04T21:07:00.000+08:002012-06-04T21:07:00.066+08:00PH4 - PogiThis is how a young, typical -er in Hong Kong looks like.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQlMlrc_DYlikUCqUel8MegTfHa5uL20wGkFN2cFB_iQbS82pbEUqmJz9wu1rf81JORQXqQerqD70FOQPQwLUrIK0X565O-uj8vsAbc4JRnwTLTIrRSQgGY_6M9KzW5tdLFDZgufrfdCb/s1600/IMG_1514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQlMlrc_DYlikUCqUel8MegTfHa5uL20wGkFN2cFB_iQbS82pbEUqmJz9wu1rf81JORQXqQerqD70FOQPQwLUrIK0X565O-uj8vsAbc4JRnwTLTIrRSQgGY_6M9KzW5tdLFDZgufrfdCb/s400/IMG_1514.JPG" width="246" /></a></div>
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And this. is. exactly. what. I... er, my friend. needs.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-19043062336654751732012-06-03T17:54:00.000+08:002012-06-04T18:08:44.901+08:00PH3 - UptightOver snacks and HH (which I only knew at that time as happy hour), we learned that a friend has not had sex.<br />
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In our minds, all of us except her, a realization screamed about: <span style="font-size: x-small;">NO WONDER SHE'S UPTIGHT</span>.<br />
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So with cheese, grapes and breadsticks, we told her what she needed:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJYVaEf4DiLq2KnqED4fvgQ2czpuzcz3AwdPSPMTq6WjyAGbvpQDZLK1W8-tcK9_u_YcKi55PURkITQ32tVU5JF36lE_GLyFngtTJfaXVoSQ_wnBZLT9GP9hRzra1iU9DsUq73L1AujYu/s1600/IMG_1490.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJYVaEf4DiLq2KnqED4fvgQ2czpuzcz3AwdPSPMTq6WjyAGbvpQDZLK1W8-tcK9_u_YcKi55PURkITQ32tVU5JF36lE_GLyFngtTJfaXVoSQ_wnBZLT9GP9hRzra1iU9DsUq73L1AujYu/s320/IMG_1490.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Somehow, until the end of that night, we didn't think she got it.<br />
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Maybe a real one will suffice.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com3Soho, Central, Hong Kong22.024545601240337 114.29077148437521.083628101240336 113.027343984375 22.965463101240339 115.554198984375tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-30524074033679067942012-06-02T17:34:00.000+08:002012-06-04T17:52:10.968+08:00PH2 - Bebeng<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlFF29z8cFgZc8xie5rpRI5PjOzEjaEcKToMdt9c9HYLOlRgc5ySOV4YrmtDnFbBLxdZUFlQztyLjF2X0w0oEA-zrlyosUQXcIcW6clwsgiU6ZJijyqkKBFkk6SCVKlHYsI7il0d7j3co/s1600/IMG_0951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlFF29z8cFgZc8xie5rpRI5PjOzEjaEcKToMdt9c9HYLOlRgc5ySOV4YrmtDnFbBLxdZUFlQztyLjF2X0w0oEA-zrlyosUQXcIcW6clwsgiU6ZJijyqkKBFkk6SCVKlHYsI7il0d7j3co/s320/IMG_0951.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
This is Bebeng.<br />
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At half past 1, she can walk, talk and <i>birit</i>.<br />
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Like her mother, she would reach out to your camera once you take a photo of her and look if you took a good shot or not.<br />
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At her age, she could discriminate. And she would make her point. <i>(mana sa ninong)</i><br />
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Smiles she has a-plenty. Tricks innumerable. Energy enormous.<br />
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One will never get bored with her. Maybe just tired.<br />
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Now I understand what Freddie meant with this crazy little thing called love.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com2Tsim Sha Tsui22.217920166311025 114.213867187521.280509666311026 112.9504396875 23.155330666311023 115.4772946875tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-1027272744258917062012-06-01T12:16:00.000+08:002012-06-01T12:16:10.111+08:00Project Happy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-j7eslNQbu0MCbMb2uM9gc1cvUGQ_hIt1npxAGQym07l0Pndy7yH5YNM0K_JnDbXFkP0bE_ksGUaiTrvOdT-gicdzt78GxfwfX70VD7Aq7KWTyK_T887UFUW85aoqp0N7SWrtaOBCXhbm/s1600/Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-j7eslNQbu0MCbMb2uM9gc1cvUGQ_hIt1npxAGQym07l0Pndy7yH5YNM0K_JnDbXFkP0bE_ksGUaiTrvOdT-gicdzt78GxfwfX70VD7Aq7KWTyK_T887UFUW85aoqp0N7SWrtaOBCXhbm/s320/Me.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This is me. I have a big nose. I have scissor teeth. I am short. I have nice pecs. I am Filipino.<br />
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Being Filipino is something I am proud of. It is a legacy that I wish to continue and give as inheritance to my children should my relationship with Shaun continue and blossom to the point of us wanting children.<br />
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For the mean time, let me settle with happiness and laughter. Which is something innate in most of us Filipinos.<br />
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And this starts my 365-day project - Project Happy.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-78590742410573258152012-05-14T16:20:00.005+08:002012-05-14T16:20:56.458+08:00On Singaporean Men-uEither mali lang ako ng pinuntahan o sadyang wala akong nakitang masarap na Singaporean... dish.<br />Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-12266488194901363352012-04-13T13:18:00.001+08:002012-04-13T13:18:33.261+08:00DragonflyOne high school day, I sneaked out of the Mendiola gates of my school and walked with my friends to Greenhills.<br />
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There we ate tacos, drank Mango Brutus (and once thought that Orange Julius was a cheap copycat) and wandered around Filbar's and Nova Fontana.<br />
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And bought my first Dragonflys. For 100 pesos.<br />
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A few months back here in Hong Kong, all these memories started streaming back to me and I suddenly craved for that same pair.<br />
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I thought, since I am in Hong Kong which is part of China, baka meron dito. I traversed the whole territory only to be shocked to have found it in the wet market closest to my home.<br />
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And bought my second Dragonflys. For 50 hong kong.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUf5I_aGizQbXI4kCIl2X9zsKugKFRsxLEa0oMeOoPynpMv2Xo4-nJLVHFbnKPx5ZzGNEBdIsTgsXg0GSiaLNLWl5ZQMRhE86i-gEp7_Kv0oKTxsXeK5Ku-j3P7_dvOrn1ITg3MUmZ-GX/s1600/IMG_0724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUf5I_aGizQbXI4kCIl2X9zsKugKFRsxLEa0oMeOoPynpMv2Xo4-nJLVHFbnKPx5ZzGNEBdIsTgsXg0GSiaLNLWl5ZQMRhE86i-gEp7_Kv0oKTxsXeK5Ku-j3P7_dvOrn1ITg3MUmZ-GX/s320/IMG_0724.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dragonflys resting on steel</td></tr>
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<br />
I posted this in my facebook and a dear friend from high school, Arvin Penaflor, commented on it saying, "Ah the wondrous memories of high school."<br />
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A few days ago, Arvin passed away. He succumbed to a cardiac arrest. At 38.<br />
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We were supposed to see each other here this April. Him showing off his beautiful wife and children. Me my Dragonfly.<br />
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I guess that will never happen. Or maybe a few more years and I can show him off my shoes. And we can talk about how life is/was/will be like.<br />
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This one is for you, Arvin. This blogpost and my Dragonfly shoes.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-41054031296176588712012-03-16T16:14:00.000+08:002012-03-16T16:14:01.040+08:00Pichur<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wherever this blog will lead me to, I am making sure it will walk the walk.</div>
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Well, until I reach the end of the escalator. </div>Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-75970178894567487342012-03-02T10:23:00.003+08:002012-03-02T10:23:53.869+08:00Sorry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Hindi na ako nakakapag-post. Hindi na ako nakakapag-bloghop. Hindi na ako nakakapag-comment.</div>
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Nainlove kasi ako eh.</div>
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<a href="http://s3.amazonaws.com/data.tumblr.com/tumblr_m08f0jNF2d1r02upxo1_1280.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAJ6IHWSU3BX3X7X3Q&Expires=1330741325&Signature=a7sKZrPk%2FFyup3BPywTh8fCJP%2FM%3D" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://s3.amazonaws.com/data.tumblr.com/tumblr_m08f0jNF2d1r02upxo1_1280.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAJ6IHWSU3BX3X7X3Q&Expires=1330741325&Signature=a7sKZrPk%2FFyup3BPywTh8fCJP%2FM%3D" width="266" /></a></div>
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But not to him. Pero briton din.</div>
<br /><br />Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-89611539935099044662012-02-19T11:14:00.000+08:002012-02-19T11:14:12.043+08:00Benoodled<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
When the book Chicken Soup for Whomever Soul came up years ago, I inadvertently distanced myself from it. Self-help books are for the bored person in the city who may choose to have it and read it rather than talk to friends, unless his friends are equally wrapped up in ennui-driven money-making schemes for a hopefully brighter future.<br />
<br />
I wondered at my friends who had it, this gremlin of a thing that simply popped and pooped - sans the watering - with possibly equally deadly sequels - for the pregnant, for the cat lover, for the butcher, for the pole-dancing mistress. How much advice can one get in a day? And whom? What if I were an ice-cracking soccer player who loves fondling his friends' nibbles while popping beer and e? Okay, I didn't say that.<br />
<br />
Until the inevitable came.<br />
<br />
Days ago, as the boyfriend was packing for his trip back to Kathmandu, he popped out the Campbell's Creamy Chicken Noodle Soup as a present, together with thyme that he probably bought from the Hezbollah and the plastic flowers (see photo).<br />
<br />
The following day was dreadful. Throat sore, vocal chords ruined, feet cold, I got up from bed missing the warmth of his arms, chest and heavy breathing (and occasional snoring). Convincing myself that this ought to be a good day despite the absence of the boyfriend, I placed the plastic flowers on a jar, cooked the noodle soup and turned on the TV.<br />
<br />
The first sip of soup bitch-slapped me with such deliciousness and orgasmic joy. It got me virtually scratching my head on how eating it could make one's mouse-grey day suddenly bright-sky blue and filling up with colors of Nips rainbow.<br />
<br />
Was it the soup itself or the one who gave it as a get-well gift? It didn't matter, like the fact that we are four-hours away from each other and this is another long-distance relationship I am having despite my obviously futile attempts not to have another one.<br />
<br />
With the new boyfriend, everything seems astoundingly well in place and that unexplainably we see ourselves together for far longer than the moments of all our past relationships combined. And despite having said yes to each other on the frrrrrrrrrrrrtnth of Febrrrrrry.<br />
<br />
Now, don't ask.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-13227177571975876292012-02-14T13:30:00.001+08:002012-02-14T13:30:24.489+08:00Nathan@night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahRNP0pAguyVyXqx_ytzxPci0sz_rf8jJ14M1GmBs-uEwXFtRkefi4bK8cd3SG8OrBpiP9jlymgMwJH9i2BzFmpWIb6H6HAVJ1tCIZVincUebfmBqavV0hyphenhyphenJlKQ_bSBwW3lf9RKlUKG65/s1600/Nathan@Night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahRNP0pAguyVyXqx_ytzxPci0sz_rf8jJ14M1GmBs-uEwXFtRkefi4bK8cd3SG8OrBpiP9jlymgMwJH9i2BzFmpWIb6H6HAVJ1tCIZVincUebfmBqavV0hyphenhyphenJlKQ_bSBwW3lf9RKlUKG65/s320/Nathan@Night.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Tonight I will be at Nathan.<br />
<br />
Tonight I will walk along its neon-lit street and wander not in despair or utter sadness.<br />
<br />
Tonight I will look up at the blue-grey skies hoping that the rain clouds have gone to sleep and that I and the one whose hand I will be holding while walking will be all alone with nice weather.<br />
<br />
Tonight I will bask in its electric glory, seek refuge in its tall comforting concrete buildings, and be guided by double-decker buses, red taxicabs and fast-walking passers-by.<br />
<br />
As I and my love walk home.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-14630311143463392952012-02-09T11:13:00.000+08:002012-02-10T12:02:47.971+08:00I watch Koh Masaki because...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxb7ouLPVs1r69ekzo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxb7ouLPVs1r69ekzo1_500.jpg" width="271" /></a></div>
He has a story to tell.<br />
<br />
He makes me feel complete.<br />
<br />
He has the full package.<br />
<br />
He delivers.<br />
<br />
And while most non-porn gay movies have sad, tragic endings, gay porn does not.<br />
<br />
Everybody goes home happy. Others creamed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>I'd rather have cum on my face than die at the end of a movie.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Check my favorite porn actor <a href="http://kohmasaki.com/" target="_blank">here</a>. And especially, <a href="http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/koh-masaki?before=1326780389" target="_blank">here</a>.</span>Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-37048754397123475392012-02-03T10:03:00.002+08:002012-02-03T11:31:10.455+08:00Chicken soup for the soulless old bitchLast night was a classroom of old-age lessons:<br />
<br />
<b>a) Listen and be genuinely interested.</b><br />
<br />
It is hard to think of a quick retort when you have not taken a bit of food or gulped even bad beer. Difficult to keep eye contact when your insides are planning a revolt. Then again it is your body and you just have to control it.<br />
<br />
What you do is mentally open that old notebook of good manners you had in grade school and keep up. Keep your tact and don't let the blond-haired remarks out. Look deep inside your heart and shovel down your brain for anything remotely close to the topic the person in front of you is so excitedly talking about.<br />
<br />
<i>I think she noticed that I had nothing to say and was just being polite.</i><br />
<br />
<b>b) No such thing as Your School and Others.</b><br />
<br />
A mere mention of another school in an alumni association's event breaks open the library of Melanisms, Eraptions and school-bastardizing.<br />
<br />
<strike>Ah, the Goldilocks-dressed Povedans. The tusok-tusok Assumptionistas. The no-brainer Taft people. And the Arreneans.</strike><br />
<br />
Last year, while I was downing my <i>bagnet</i> in Pino's, a bunch of students from my school came in with iPads, Mac air and severals in big-branded bags. They opened their textbooks, apparently preparing for an examination. After ordering what seemed to be a feast, they started chatting away in Tagalog as if they were playing Pinoy Henyo. Except, they had a twang. While this may somehow be a normal sight in Quezon City, it is fairly new and alien to me.<br />
<br />
Each school, like any other person, has its own character and set of values.<br />
<br />
With that, the person is not necessarily the school. Nor is the school the person.<br />
<br />
<b>c) Act your age.</b><br />
<br />
Old dogs still can learn new tricks. They, nay we, just have to do a bit more of stretching everyday.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-81531464716825687472012-02-01T06:19:00.001+08:002012-02-01T16:18:34.995+08:00ShameA checklist of January's expense -<br />
<br />
A grey suede kid's cap<br />
A white almost seamless top<br />
Black tuxedo shorts<br />
Two usual tees<br />
A pair of khakis and two scarves<br />
Two blue tees<br />
A headpiece, easy-to-pack down jacket, 2 pairs of organic denims, a pullover, happy coat pyjamas, a pair of boots and several stationery<br />
Running shoes<br />
<br />
- at my expense.<br />
<br />
Let this be a constant reminder, and warning, that money does not grow on trees. <br />
<br />
And that I am not Miranda Priestly.<br />
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</div>Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-2242636441660886702012-01-30T10:12:00.001+08:002012-01-30T14:17:49.876+08:00being the activist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://projectbalikbayan.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/img_6484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://projectbalikbayan.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/img_6484.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">feeling it a la Liza Maza</td></tr>
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<br />
At some point did <a href="http://kanesulfur.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Kane</a> tell me that I should blog about my activism -<br />
<br />
how I became it<br />
what made me do it<br />
to which depths of the earth have I gone to express it<br />
why I continue doing it<br />
<br />
The trips I have made, the places I have been to - they are but perks (and sometimes, quirks) of my work, nay, commitment. Some think my work is cool and that I get on the plane every month, taste different types of god's meals (which is not entirely true), and I am so <i>shushal</i>.<br />
<br />
Not.<br />
<br />
If I had a choice, I would rather stay and sit with fellow kababayans in Chater Road every Sunday and chit-chat about their lives and why we need to stop that i-am-just-a-maid mentality. And if go take that trip, I'd be in wet markets, small unnoticeable nooks and corners talking with shop owners, butchers and bus drivers. And young people.<br />
<br />
I do what I do simply because I do it. And I want to do it.<br />
<br />
And I believe in it.<br />
<br />
People think the problems of the world are like the world itself - hard to change. But with global warming propping up and forced migration, there are indeed <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">certain</span> people who made these things happen.<br />
<br />
With that, I think we too, can change things. For world peace.<br />
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<br />Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-84909646787801641842012-01-28T11:55:00.000+08:002012-01-29T12:34:45.499+08:00Bali revisited<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDswJFJPqPKJlVWxOfIQbpkrsJyZXpWeD2NcjCEbKR9CEoDc6s2l-lCzPq1-ZvsJVSQIGkiyJNgMsYbHMUMbFXINE36BzE-si6UV283701jpJj-8Zv53jw1aKNUTOGdVJkC5ZoMzUVMIEe/s1600/IMG_9223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDswJFJPqPKJlVWxOfIQbpkrsJyZXpWeD2NcjCEbKR9CEoDc6s2l-lCzPq1-ZvsJVSQIGkiyJNgMsYbHMUMbFXINE36BzE-si6UV283701jpJj-8Zv53jw1aKNUTOGdVJkC5ZoMzUVMIEe/s400/IMG_9223.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I remember the feel of sea foam touching my naked toes at 6 o' clock in the morning, the fresh breeze that comes from the east, and the sound of waves rushing towards me.</span></i><br />
<br />
I am torn among three places to go to for my long-awaited vacation this year - Puerto Princesa, Bali, Bangkok. I am particularly biased towards Bali for a lot of reasons, particularly maybe because it has grown on me.<br />
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<br />
While friends advised me to go see Ubud where Balinese culture can be more experienced (and where the presence of<i> biutiful</i> Javier Bardem can be felt and smelt), I have to admit that I have already fallen in love with Kuta.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIWNCxHcjh6ZwzcE5XK457mTgwUAU4WUH7D1LxPamH4N_4BvGzQlpty4LOlEHJ8G3fK2Sxp1SJFCoSI10vkCL7hyphenhyphensG3vMGWgRi_jP463qpRxKIqFGVw9XnDd2dGSYaWu-1dPfIg9SBLQn/s1600/motorcycles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIWNCxHcjh6ZwzcE5XK457mTgwUAU4WUH7D1LxPamH4N_4BvGzQlpty4LOlEHJ8G3fK2Sxp1SJFCoSI10vkCL7hyphenhyphensG3vMGWgRi_jP463qpRxKIqFGVw9XnDd2dGSYaWu-1dPfIg9SBLQn/s400/motorcycles.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
I could walk for hours and be continually, unfailingly smitten by the sheer melding of its motorcycle smoke, those porcelain white teeth and full lips that flash big beautiful smiles, the scent of incense lit every morning as one bows and prays, the towering yet very humble <i>penjor</i> hanging at every corner, the rotundas filled with statues of Hindu gods, the Indonesian struggling people and what not.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Z4ebzIoCXIajOE283oKG_Z6RK8fr6RuWXpnu9AMF11Hb2WsuPKk0VaOaO3IeHLYDNhsgrXSYq4nCrhXTPMUy5A4sxyBg1GEXtenuCQNZb8TQzHDqsgJ4H4oQCU1sz0_cacT7CIGxC65W/s1600/penjor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Z4ebzIoCXIajOE283oKG_Z6RK8fr6RuWXpnu9AMF11Hb2WsuPKk0VaOaO3IeHLYDNhsgrXSYq4nCrhXTPMUy5A4sxyBg1GEXtenuCQNZb8TQzHDqsgJ4H4oQCU1sz0_cacT7CIGxC65W/s400/penjor.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"></span><br />
Stopping by a small shop once, I asked the owner where I could go for a pee and he offered his home toilet which was just at the back of the shop. Humbled and thankful, I walked towards the end of the shop and opened the door. What I saw astounded me - rows of small nipa hut-like resting kiosks guiding me to a very beautifully-architectured house built on varnished molave wood with a Javanese roof form as its wig. With it are the owner's family preparing food, stopping to glance back and smile at me, like I was a long-time friend passing through.<br />
<br />
A girl friend revealed to me once what she said to her husband should they be estranged at some point in their lives - We will always have Bali.<br />
<br />
I do not intend to fall in-love with anyone there. Let my friend and Julia Roberts have it.<br />
<br />
I just want to experience everything all over again - a place so humble yet rich, where life seemed so simple yet overwhelming.<br />
<br />
I have fallen in love with Bali and I do not mind getting scorched again.<br />
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<br />Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-81021073477296105272012-01-23T00:33:00.002+08:002012-01-23T00:47:42.768+08:00Kung Hei-hei-hei Fat Choy!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirWZgZZw39ndkztl5cgfTjcWD2cp02GRajZ2U1xbYI1CTHuJWhWJ4zukloM_MDsYQmspDbPd9Oj62T0J7pHl1wD8FDUBYzo88cADeBgLRlH5d2Vcxw4flBrceIWGNs-23YaBtrQGifoiCM/s1600/IMG_0397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirWZgZZw39ndkztl5cgfTjcWD2cp02GRajZ2U1xbYI1CTHuJWhWJ4zukloM_MDsYQmspDbPd9Oj62T0J7pHl1wD8FDUBYzo88cADeBgLRlH5d2Vcxw4flBrceIWGNs-23YaBtrQGifoiCM/s320/IMG_0397.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stationery shop along Shanghai Street</td></tr>
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<br />
Today, the first coldest day of 2012, I let my Chinese lineage take over and I joined in the festivities of the Lunar New Year. Well, at least on the eve of it.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
It is the year of the black water dragon, which according to feng shui will bring forth many opportunities for good luck and investment. And yes, even love (fireworks is what they, those Chinese masters, aptly stated).<br />
<br />
Already, I am feeling such a special mention as men from my not-so-immediate past and present are somehow making their presence felt, especially with the Sarcastic Briton, let's call him that, making headway. But my lovelife deserves another story. Or blogpost.</div>
<div>
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<div>
For the meantime, this:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
If Rome was placed on fire while Nero pranced or whatever he was doing, capitalism put Hong Kong during this time on sale and got everyone prancing. Everything - from clothes to flowers to everything round and sweet to even fish - was priced at rates one would not imagine possible.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZUs5BzRMNc4bY5d-mJ00TZSx9J8LsMc1Nmh3Nxbn48L8q_0U4JhfqpH_UPJjti154e3z2Gj4Ls0LQy5-84hVPtI2aTAeL4nkZUVgl9BqvYjrjK4-r6xsUgQoQe9-WYHgCppARSY4Hr12z/s1600/IMG_0384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZUs5BzRMNc4bY5d-mJ00TZSx9J8LsMc1Nmh3Nxbn48L8q_0U4JhfqpH_UPJjti154e3z2Gj4Ls0LQy5-84hVPtI2aTAeL4nkZUVgl9BqvYjrjK4-r6xsUgQoQe9-WYHgCppARSY4Hr12z/s320/IMG_0384.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Children's cheongsams at the street market (Jordan Road)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbNplL1kpVX_Z6eaHApVGlAU4WUHH6qMdKptROnOu4JeD-gV2H8Yb8OMbLysz7cc-PGfaxu0QqZtFJTDEnxzaQnxIKqXNNZNR0uv8FXPvKXlcfLZ9haNfP61ptEBqswzTIKi288GIT9oJ/s1600/IMG_0387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbNplL1kpVX_Z6eaHApVGlAU4WUHH6qMdKptROnOu4JeD-gV2H8Yb8OMbLysz7cc-PGfaxu0QqZtFJTDEnxzaQnxIKqXNNZNR0uv8FXPvKXlcfLZ9haNfP61ptEBqswzTIKi288GIT9oJ/s320/IMG_0387.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goldfish, Nemo, etal for a cheap price (at Bute Street) </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_qN056Xq5WmE395uflrrMkuw-QfugweedQAKZyeDFnPN5x0O0MvcbKcEHtpbvPCveR6pofqP0sdHidvbYxVGX4406wRx-JsaXOe6o99iKj9lcLPfvefhA95eO5LxZXOmRCQj23Vhu-x9r/s1600/IMG_0399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_qN056Xq5WmE395uflrrMkuw-QfugweedQAKZyeDFnPN5x0O0MvcbKcEHtpbvPCveR6pofqP0sdHidvbYxVGX4406wRx-JsaXOe6o99iKj9lcLPfvefhA95eO5LxZXOmRCQj23Vhu-x9r/s320/IMG_0399.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nectarines</td></tr>
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<br />
I went around with my iPhone and took shots of the world around me. Sadly, I got involved with the said world and even partook in it. The K2 and Indu Homme shop was having its clearance sale at 70% on all items, and so one simply could not refuse. I only got one, though, but for only HK$110!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I heard that the Flower Market in Causeway Bay will be opened tonight. People were prodding me to go. When I asked them if they are going, they said it would be too crowded and people there would be snooty. I laughed and scratched my head - talk about invitations.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I was advised however not to go to Shenzhen and have a massage because most of their best masseurs have gone home for the holidays, which will usually take a week. No happy endings there for sure.</div>
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</div>
<div>
<br />
Nonetheless, I am excited about the days to come. Chinese New Year is festive, much more funner even than the Anglo-saxon new year (well, at least here in HK). The fireworks will be on Tuesday and I endeavor to be there to witness the million-dollar fiery lightshow, the ooohs and waaahs of the chink-dominant crowd at the harbour, and yes, the men who will either be with their boyfriends, or just friends, or looking for like-minded men to have fireworks with that night.</div>
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As it is tradition to give lai see (red pocket) every Chinese New Year, I intend to give my share of blessings. Hence, this. Thanks to Muji who offered cheap red pockets for only 10 dollars.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7arMajNftOYFOfhvF8PKPWwLgbBsHodWK4ZmtV_TNhWJn1relsqtgJun76bk0fXX8fSOwSYahLHZYJAtca6Kh6mS8eTOMFWWACRVA70lViNkr5EMUuvCSGTCQweLDCyPsX8Gy7K8F1Da/s1600/IMG_0401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7arMajNftOYFOfhvF8PKPWwLgbBsHodWK4ZmtV_TNhWJn1relsqtgJun76bk0fXX8fSOwSYahLHZYJAtca6Kh6mS8eTOMFWWACRVA70lViNkr5EMUuvCSGTCQweLDCyPsX8Gy7K8F1Da/s320/IMG_0401.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lai see (red pocket)</td></tr>
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And so it goes, dears. Enjoy the festivities as much as we can. Get what our Pinay migrant sisters always say during this time of the year:</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">KUNG HEI FAT CHOI! LAI SEE, TULOY TULOY!</span></div>Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-34240760368540931332012-01-19T00:02:00.001+08:002012-01-21T11:07:51.176+08:00Conquering HK<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_-gWLXhpuAls2qC75-wQyH_73YYDhXXQ_Cq554FzzNG-1d36P2JFKd8gWvLw6_SOsILVIvbHU-fE1MIRzDlNoaxlcc-BQr6vFhs-LOV2CaSo0odGM7CtDiwC2q-fauFE93OLASfxG47a/s640/blogger-image-672296122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_-gWLXhpuAls2qC75-wQyH_73YYDhXXQ_Cq554FzzNG-1d36P2JFKd8gWvLw6_SOsILVIvbHU-fE1MIRzDlNoaxlcc-BQr6vFhs-LOV2CaSo0odGM7CtDiwC2q-fauFE93OLASfxG47a/s640/blogger-image-672296122.jpg" /></a></div>
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This is a picture I took of the HSBC Main Building (right) side by side Cheung Kong Center. Both display awesome greatness with towering height, magnificent architecture, command of HK electricity and the world's savings. <br />
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As an activist, I admit to continue looking at them both bright-eyed. And doubting?<br />
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What's with banks, lights and gorgeous facades? What's with this little village once lived in by Jose, hidden in by Emilio and owned by the queen?<br />
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To count down towards my 10th year of consuming, loving, battling Hong Kong, I challenge myself to share with you this special administrative region through my eyes, tongue and heart. <br />
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I don't intend to be lonely planet-y. I just want to invite you to my garden.<br />
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Addendum: The inspire came from <i>Hong Kong: The Fragrance in the South China Sea</i>, a photographic portfolio by Fumio Okada. Mr Okada is known as Mr Panorama, capturing and printing in long sheets the beauty of the Hong Kong skyline, that of Beijing, and even Boracay.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-23044872703715349202012-01-15T21:19:00.002+08:002012-01-16T09:32:37.695+08:00Extraordinary ordinariness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs38/f/2008/314/1/1/a_helping_hand_by_poivre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs38/f/2008/314/1/1/a_helping_hand_by_poivre.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I almost died last year. Or at least I would like to think I almost did.<br />
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Days before Christmas I was rushed to the hospital and sepsis, or blood poisoning, was the doctors' diagnosis on me. </div>
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Sepsis is an almost-fatal disease that could progress from a mere bug bite. Only people who are extremely aged (either in your months or 50s) and immuno-compromised could easily have it. (<a href="http://kikomanhk.blogspot.com/2011/12/ang-bakla-sa-sepsis-tank-holiday-post.html" target="_blank">see December 24 post</a>)</div>
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All symptoms, the doctors (yes, plurals) told me, pointed to sepsis. A barrage of questions was then asked - from where and if I went to somewhere rural the past two weeks to whether I was taking drugs and sharing needles. Chiangmai was where I went days before and no, I have stopped trying out recreational drugs that didn't involve needles. </div>
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In the end, sadly and quite unnervingly, they could not figure how I got it.</div>
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In those eight days, I had to endure a needle stuck up the back of my palm as I would be have to be fed with "strong" antibiotics every 12 hours. I jokingly called my medication <i>anti-bayotics</i> as I thought somebody was trying to "straighten" me up. But of course, the cute Chinese twink nurses couldn't get the joke.</div>
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Finally, they allowed me home leave days after Christmas. During those days, I got to watch two movies, Skyped with Canada-based siblings, drank lattes at Pacific Coffee, and online-chatted with an old flame trying to win me back. My hospital table was always full - grapes, nectarines, cherries, three roses on a vase, pocketbooks. Louie, a dear friend, gave me a down jacket as a hospital gift. </div>
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I thought I'd be happy with all the attention but somehow the depression sank in - during the first days of January.</div>
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What got me through the eight days though was something stellar that happened, something I thought would not happen.</div>
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On the night I got the shivers, I immediately called 999 and situated myself at the intersection of two small streets so I could easily be located. Convulsing violently then, I tried to will myself to sit on the gutters but somehow mind over matter was not some ordinary thing sick ordinary people like me could do.</div>
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I felt my body giving in, falling on the ground and somehow semi-consciously I expected, and dreaded, the inevitable instance of my head hitting concrete. But somehow the inevitable didn't happen.</div>
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I felt my head resting on someone's hand as I guessed the same someone telling me I would be okay. He was speaking Cantonese but somehow I understood what he was saying. The warmth of his hand and the comfort of his voice were more than enough to calm me down, at least <i>spiritually</i>.</div>
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In this cold, concrete city called Hong Kong, it was powerfully fascinating to experience a simple act of kindness, of selflessness. By a stranger to another stranger. When all hope could have easily escaped this perfect model of a capitalist society, where people valued money more than themselves, there was a slight glimmer that shone so bright. </div>
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That simple act of kindness got me through my eight days, my depression, and the mere idea that I am mortal and ordinary.</div>
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Because it is with that that I will myself to live - for ordinary people can do extraordinary things, no matter how simple or meaningless they may seem. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>picture from deviantart.com</i></span></div>Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-48817371284704788702012-01-14T14:07:00.000+08:002012-01-14T20:26:13.095+08:00Being Carly<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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I am not the one with many words up my sleeve that I can simply take out at any given time.<br />
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Like this instance when tears welled up my eyes and eventually flowed streams down my cheeks.<br />
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When many times I think I do not have a lot, I see Carly and how she is.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/vNZVV4Ciccg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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I will keep Carly in my tabs, making sure she is looking at me in the face when I am not being myself.Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815285235904953078.post-86582932180641336782012-01-12T12:11:00.004+08:002012-01-12T12:11:52.281+08:00???<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaVn3GMrVVtJbsOTPmNVxckuz6ocYZT7mW0mIfdZn2pnxPX6Xp-Zy50ODJxTRRFmg9mmjV1Zr3PgKpY3XSVNi4JfUedEKUSQdUOMgwWU84t6TPP0lSfbwAmdWpA8E6pXARmi9ntADB5yjj/s1600/Wesley+vs+Dicky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaVn3GMrVVtJbsOTPmNVxckuz6ocYZT7mW0mIfdZn2pnxPX6Xp-Zy50ODJxTRRFmg9mmjV1Zr3PgKpY3XSVNi4JfUedEKUSQdUOMgwWU84t6TPP0lSfbwAmdWpA8E6pXARmi9ntADB5yjj/s320/Wesley+vs+Dicky.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dicky or Wesley?</td></tr>
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Mugen likes Dicky. So does Jericho.<br />
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Whom shall I choose?Kikshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13822242317478877592noreply@blogger.com7