My own "24"

In the TV series "24," the lead character portrayed by Kiefer Sutherland will save someone or resolve something in a narrative time-lapse worth 24 hours every episode. There are days like this in my so-called professional life. Such was October 20 when I had again one of those marathon trips in line with official work, and some more for volunteer work, i.e. work to help out friends. I was up and about from 7AM, October 20 til 7AM the following day. What did I actually resolve? After several weeks of being in limbo with the second phase of the Global Fund project, we were suddenly jolted into having things start moving again; we were asked to make haste despite much of project modalities still being help up in air. Hay naku! All rush and tension were three-layer-cake-slicing thick in the air...

Whom did I actually save a la Kiefer/24 (though I could never compare myself to Kief's gracefully ageing beauty, but ageing nonetheless)? In an ambitious effort to up the ante on their Bohemian Fridays project at Rainbow Project in Malate, Gregg and other friends decided to enrich their project with a bit more art and activity. One was a photo exhibit, another was safer sex advocacy by way of condom distribution, on top of reading of erotic poetry. We were able to involve Dominique James into the stint, and he was so generous to offer us several of his work... I underscore generous here as he offered us 30 digital photography artpieces. For my part, I had my staff in Lucena (while we were meeting on the nitty-gritties of the Global Fund) assemble 100 condom sample packs not unlike a brisk cottage industry.

After the Lucena meeting, I rushed back to Manila, straight to Malate, a plastic bag of condoms on one hand, dirt and grime imported from Laguna and Quezon on clothes, face and god-knows-where-else. I was essentially in deflated, silent attendance during the Bohemian Friday activity (themed "Skin Light Words"). But the Milenyo-inspired curatorship of the artwork did catch my attention, glaring and pleading for justice. I gave Gregg my unsolicited two-cents and volunteered to help in redoing some curatorials, silently thanking DJ was then in New York doing pictorials. As matter of courtesy, and protection of fragile friendships, let some of the photos here clue in as to what happened as I was studying/reworking the curatorials. I was on the verge of accusing dear, sweet but bullying Gregg as the hell-bent, hell-sent curator. Sweet, regardless.

So beyond the 24-hour real-time time-lapse of our own real-life drama, reworking the art collection took several more nights, each night an ambitious attempt to finish all but only to realize later that attempts remained just ambition. Each night also had some unraveling scenarios that I'd rather not enumerate now, but have mentally reserved for potential slapstick sitcom racket material. In fairness, I was able to revisit some of the up-and-down challenges of volunteer work. I haven't been in a volunteer role for quite some time now. Doing it and being one helped me relearn some things I could factor in for management of future volunteerism in TLF SHARE. And oh, there was a lot of partying too... other than the usual weekend gay-time riot, our work serendipitously coincided with the G4M party and the "medieval" Halloween party.

Despite all exhaustion, frustration and prime-grade irritainment, I think the most saving that happened in my own version of 24 was my relationships with friends. Renewed connections, shared endeavors and moments, and new acquaintances have resuscitated my social life... it really felt wonderful to be back in the loop. I don't mind all that work (and there are surely a lot more pending); I like contributing my talent and skills when I know they're needed. Now, if only I could match my renewed social life with more sustainable funding - jusko, ang mahal na palang mag-socialize ngayon!

A posting post the post

Gregg was right. I was totally the different person when we met later in the night, after I wrote that awful, desperate and whiny post about I having nothing of urbane civility left almost a week after Milenyo. Writing seemed to have purged all the angst. I asked him to join me in Malate while at home, enveloped in the now-familiar sticky heat darkness, after realizing that I don't need to endure another depressing candlelit night. We, which later also included Mark, hung out at Chelu and drank for no special occasion... well, maybe except for one, my liberation from all anger and anxiety of the previous days. Or maybe this night marked the last stage before grieving for my destituted existence could genuinely begin. We drank, got modestly drunk, and I wasn't too modest about spending my dwindling savings on luxuries like beer. We also ate, we ate a lot while Gregg complained about needing to lose the weight he's packing in between bites of balot, chicken skin and all other sorts of street food fare.

At one point, Mark realized that we haven't been together like this for a long, long time, us being essentially what's left of our Gen Gali/Mr. Piggy's peer group. What was intended to be a simple night of needing to get drunk so I could sleep for much longer, ended up in anticipation for Sunshine Dizon (that's gayspeak for sunrise). Back home, morning sunlight was already beginning to pour in my room, on my bed. How to sleep in bright daylight and the heat of the day microwaving you in the bedroom? Well, I didn't sleep much. Again.

Then the day before power was restored - and the fallen billboard was cleared - I flew to Davao to attend the Philippine National Convention on HIV and AIDS, for the first time held outside Metro Manila. PNAC was sponsoring two community fora during the convention; I was supposed to facilitate small group workshop sessions during one of the fora. The fora didn't bring results we expected, and I feel that the organizers would have to explain their "interference." (But I'm not going into this - at least, not right now.) But the best thing I got from this trip was sleep. When I settled in the hotel on the first night (some cheap but functional inn near Davao Doctors Hospital), I was already asleep 8PM (which is very early for me) and slept 12 hours straight. I had an itchy throat the morning after though; I ran the A/C full blast directly on me all night. Talk about depravity.

When I got back in Manila, the first week of restored electricity also little by little restored our normal activities. That meant getting back on the oh-so-many concerns from within the office to PNAC and to wherever else. I haven't submitted that ADB proposal yet, after learning that I have more time until the deadline for the second round of submission. I once promised myself to finish it as soon as power was restored and life normalized again but *sigh* the momentum somehow was lost, I mean, that frenzied, fierce and inspired drive to write and beat the deadline. Crammers from all corners of the Earth would know what I mean.

I didn't have a particular angle when I started this post, I'm not sure what my point is. Maybe this is an assurance that I'm still a sane person after all insanity. Maybe this is a closure that attempts to be dignified, after having exposed oneself as an embarassingly, half-crazed whine-bag. Or maybe, quite simply, this being the posting post the despondency post is itself the angle.

Anti-discrimination bill - update from the House

I've been meaning to post this e-mail update from Jonas regarding the Anti-discrimination Bill. I received this last October 13.

Early morning today, in between deliberations on the 2007 budget, Rep. Nograles (House Committee on Rules Chair) and AKBAYAN Reps. Risa Hontiveros and Mayong Aguja (Etta was in Mindanao) tried to have the Anti-Discrimination Bill passed on Third Reading. It would have been passed, along with a few other bills, had Rep. Abante of Manila been wise enough to understand the definition of human rights and his mandate as the chair of the House Committee on Human Rights. He stood up and said that he would interpellate the bill since he believes that what it promotes is "morally reprehensible." Rep. Nograles himself tried to reason out with him, but he was very adamant. Abante was also informed that they want to go through the approval of the ADB because there are other bills that had to be approved. Abante was unconvinced and even squatted beside the podium of the Majority Floor Leader (he decides on what bill to tackle) "para bantayan ang Anti-Discrimination Bill." He also argued with Mayong about the immorality of LGBTs, but Mayong just walked out. Abante was already being jeered by his colleagues, but the idiot was bent on filibustering.

He did not budge until session was finally adjourned at about 5 AM today. It will resume on November 6. Nograles assured AKBAYAN reps. that the bill will definitely be approved during the first week. If you have some cash to spare, send Abante a one-way ticket to Kitaotao or Guimaras just to get rid of him during that crucial moment. Also, spread the word: don't vote for him next year.

(Abante is the same guy who wanted to burn Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code.)

Despondency in Milenyo's aftermath

I'm on the brink of despondency. I'm now at an Internet cafe somewhere in Greenbelt. I decided to log in again after growing tired of wandering aimlessly in the mall, which was preceded by an absent-minded ride at the MRT, which was preceded by an earlier Internet cafe visit at a different mall in Pasay City.

Two more days left and I will soon be commemorating one week since Typhoon Milenyo's ravage. Two more days left and I will soon be one week's worth of an urban wreck, having no respectable clothing and shelter, in danger of losing ability for food sustenance, unemployed full time. I should be relieved that I am excused from doing more work. But I'm not. Technically, I only earn a meager allowance by the day, for every day at work. So, no electricity, no office, no work, no money. Milenyo has removed so much of the functionalities at work and conveniences at home (which for me are two areas dissected by a street); Milenyo will soon wipe out my savings.

Just last week, the only thing in my mind was finishing writing a project proposal for the Asian Development Bank. I've been working long hours again: on day time, most administrative work and meetings with NGO partners, and at night, banging the keyboard for the ADB proposal. Wednesday night's work capped off with a cool breezy six a.m. logoff from the computer. “Brrr-months na talaga,” I even remarked as I luxuriously stretched in bed and fell asleep. But around 9 a.m., my phone rang, my hunny told me about how wild the storm seemed to be like... Storm? I remembered that over last night's dinner, Joel (one of our directors) and I were discussing that incoming storm. I looked at my window and saw an almost mesmerizing feverish Tahitian-like dance of trees and tree branches. I couldn't recall now everything that my hunny and I talked about.

The next few hours would be a whirl, which started with rex's sweat-and-rainwater wet look appearance and announcement that the office across the street has a problem with windowpanes wildly flapping and banging. That would be our office; time to bring in the cavalry. The battle to contain the windows – prevent their impending crashing disastrous endings – would become also a three-stage scientific experimental activity on different kinds of binding strings, precisely, which kind would be strongest and could prevent the fierce storm winds from successfully prying open and ripping windowpanes away.

Around 12 noontime, after the brief peaceful passing of the eye, the clouds changed directions and winds started to howl (literally); for the first time in my life, I witnessed it blowing hard downwards. At the living room window, I was watching the widening pendulum of a building's signage, knowing with wicked surety that it would soon fall and fly off. I grew drowsy from watching, so I went back to my room, took a quick shuteye... the rage and the howls soon tunneled out of my consciousness. And I would have wished to have kept myself asleep until all the nasty events of the aftermath passed. Meralco restoration became the indicator for restoring norms in the Metro – last Sunday, Meralco was around 80-plus percent finished, our neighborhood was in the minority 20-percent; last night, the talk was 97-percent, so now we're in the minority 3-percent? You cannot get luckier than that.

I think I'm passing through the stages of grief, not in discrete stages, but seemingly altogether, one or some varying in degree/s from the others. I knew I was in denial several days ago, every visual of disaster an abstract, interpreted as blanks in my mind. I've lately been angered at any and all I could relate to the typhoon, from the government, to neighbors, to nasty, long-dead, former friends' pets. Since yesterday, I've have started to feel the ugliness of desparation – I was even feeling a bit resigned (that very, very passive and obese cousin-cum-nemesis of indignation) when I lost a precious 500-peso bill in the dark outside. Thanks to a few bottles of beer last night, my mind was numbed from feeling any further. And this morning, itself being a bright, shiny proof that alcohol doesn't offer any sustaining solution to problems, my escalation to despondency continued. Right now, I feel I want to spend everything that I've left and start looking all greasy and smelly, begin prospecting for a likely, homely sidewalk. I wonder if I could sell myself as an idea – one big, fat beggar, who speaks English upon demand? And if anyone would be interested, I could write project proposals too for the ADB.

Surviving a murderous deadline

I've been writing a lot lately. Not that anybody else notices, considering how I've blogged nothing at all recently, but... I've been writing, in fact, most furiously just last week. I wrote a paper on HIV, AIDS and men who have sex with men in the Philippines, on behalf of the Philippine National AIDS Council, as part of the country's contribution to the conference on MSM and HIV in Asia and the Pacific, which has just commenced as I write in New Delhi, India. There was also a Powerpoint presentation accompanying this paper, which Ferdie mostly did, two of us last week feeling like college students again rushing to finish their thesis.

I wanted to go to India, and I think some people were half expecting that I go too. I declined - rather, we came into a consensus that I should decline. Inspite of initial excitement (I have never been to India yet), we considered that the organization might come to a stand still with Ferdie and I gone. These coming weeks would be crucial for the organization. We are anticipating major things happening like the upcoming scenario for Global Fund rounds three and five. So between Ferdie and I, he was the more likely choice; he is our "permanent" member in the Council, I his "alternate." Together with Ferdie are two NGO representatives from Cebu and Zamboanga, two officials from the health and social welfare departments, and the monitoring and evaluation officer of the Council's secretariat. Dr. Mike Tan was supposed to go as well, organizers in India were hoping he could, but for some reason or other he dropped out a few days ago.

The process that led to this conference was very challenging. It was recommended that before the conference, every participating country should conduct its own consultative meeting. Mobilizing funds for country consultation was difficult; UNAIDS was doing all its best to help come up with funds, but none really could be had at short notice. PNAC was also rushing to attend to so many concerns but at least it was able to assign one secretariat staff to work on the consultation and secure a modest but functional venue (SACCL Conference Room in San Lazaro Hospital). Our group was also doing the best that we can to put together this consultation; de facto, I was thrust into the vortex of all the rush.

As I was gaining my own momentum towards the national consultative meeting, I got pulled out. An Asia-Pacific civil society meeting was going to be held in Bangkok on the same day as the consultation's, August 25. I was asked to represent AP-Rainbow (the network of LGBT organizations in the region) in the meeting. I was considered the logical choice for the meeting as it was about the universal access initiative; I represented the network in the first meeting held in Pattaya, Thailand earlier this year. The national MSM consultative meeting was held just the same, not as "flawless" as I had hoped (and believed it could have, had I been there), but it received positive feedback. As for the meeting I attended, I couldn't say for sure how meaningful the results have come... I sensed a lot of the participants having difficulty in making decisions on behalf of their work, their organizations and their countries. Again, I noticed how "fortunate" the Philippines was when it comes to government-civil society collaborations, particularly on HIV/AIDS. And it was easy to fail in fully appreciating how different the situation was for some of our other Asian neighbors.

As soon as I got back to Manila, I knew that my priority was writing that damned paper. Jonas could have done it for us, but I think he was also neck-deep in his work, both at the Congress and with LAGABLAB. Usually, our choice of writers are down to two in the most dire of situations, either him or me. Then more concerns came parading in such as the operational planning of the AIDS medium-term plan and the evaluation meeting a la road-tour of Global Fund (we had to attend two of these, in Bicol and Southern Tagalog). I was practically doing two things at the same time, almost on every occasion - preparing the paper and attending to the other what-have-you's. One night, I was looking at my desktop calendar and couldn't believe at the amount of working I've been doing. To think, I'm actually not being fully compensated at work right now. Having no ongoing contract projects at the moment, I'm only getting a modest allowance for every day that I report to work, just like a volunteer. Ah, such is the reality of NGO work!

Just a few days ago, Ka Ruthy (who is at the helm of Global Fund's NGO implementers) and I, being both journalism students in college, were talking about the travails and traumas of writing assignments like this paper - she already had more than her share, I'd think, having been involved in development work way before I did. She suggested that we should look into the possibility of having the paper published, as in print, which was something of an unspoken wish for me. It could be the first survey of MSM and HIV work in the country, we agreed, but inside I was also thinking, this would also be an important first for me. I've never yet experienced an ego-booster as having to see published work credited to my name, even back in my public relations and advertising days. I did press releases, background papers and feature articles, which didn't come with a by-line. Some journalists would rather put their own names on the by-line, a little quid pro quo for getting press releases printed on paper. I also wrote for brochures and the like since I started doing NGO work but "self-aggrandizement" is not really the point of publishing those.

Lately, during small packets of time when I could afford some daydreaming, I think about that possibility, of my writing and my name being published. I'd like to believe that having that opportunity would be just compensation for all the tribulations this New Delhi paper-presentation has brought. This paper had a murderous deadline, cheers for having survived... but getting published in return for all the hard work should be the redemption.

[Maybe, I should also publish the paper on the blog, a little at a time, it's fifteen pages long. I told you, the experience was almost like beating the deadline for your college thesis.]