Child of the Universe

Never Lived the Dreams of the Prom Kings

What a week. Played a little, but mostly worked. Out of necessity, I have to work harder now, and I’m grateful for jobs offered me just recently. So thank you for that, Ike, and thanks too, Les, Tel, Zane and Donna for being cool to hang with, for every brief chance I get to do that these past few days. I appreciate it.

I’m glad that I’m being offered work now. I don’t have to struggle as much unlike years before, which is a part of my history that, without going too much into detail, was quite bad. As in, no option but to subsist on the cheapest burger value meal bad. Not as bad as it got for young Jesse Bradford’s character in Soderbergh's King of the Hill, where he was eating cutout pictures of food, I know, but it was close. Never again.

Someday, the World’s Much Brighter

I saw an episode of the Morgan Spurlock-hosted show 30 Days, where a young man, conservative straight guy Ryan, was transplanted into an alien environment--Castro District in San Francisco--for a month (hence the series title). That was real interesting. It offered a realistic view of gay life, which includes vocal opposition by the usual haters, the antigay rednecks with placards that say “God Abhors You” or “God laughs when a fag dies.” Those parts, where people declare their usual divisiveness, were alarming, sad and pitiful.

Nevertheless, the SF denizens were shown living their lives, gayly and without fear. The straight guy, Ryan, was resistant to accepting the cultures within that homosexual haven, and also the openness of some gay people at first (although it was funny that he danced shirtless when he got drunk in a bar). But he seemed a little enlightened near the end of his sojourn, after talking to a small group of PFLAG members (parents of gay kids), who explained to him that a gay person just knows that he or she is one, just as straights might know what they’re attracted to, which is the simplest and most understandable explanation.

Invincible As Long As I’m Alive

Just pictures taken post-summer, when I was alternately Mr. Brightside and Mr. Dyingly Sad. I’m back to being regular old me, but a little wiser to some of the ways of the world. Or at least, to some inescapable truths.

Was stuck in some moments, but now got out of 'em.

Electricity Flows With the Very First Kiss

This came out last Wednesday in the 2BU section of the paper. Thank you Pam! And thanks too, Albert Rodriguez, for the cool and funny caricature. Writing this made a little giddy with nostalgia, and reminded me of how people first occupied space in my head, like pals John (first saw him at the school library, he was quietly smiling as he was opening a comics-making how-to book) and Dicky (he dropped by the launch of Alamat Comics’ “Avatar” years before we started hanging out).

Firsts and that sense of self
Or, new sensations and the late bloomer

By Oliver M. Pulumbarit
2BU! Contributor

As multi-sensory beings that constantly experience new things, we consider many firsts as personal milestones. More often than not, we vividly recall the first time we went to school, or went to the dentist for some teeth-pulling, or reeled from heartbreak.

There’s a first time for everything, as the cliché goes, and experience, as another goes, is the best teacher. After school, the barrage of tests continues, but out of the confines of the classroom, real life has its own set of evolving rules. School should prepare you for its craziness, but chances are, you’re on your own, kid, outside.

In recent months, I was able to enjoy once forbidden or once ignored pleasures that a late bloomer like me hadn’t had, such as getting inebriated. My “alcoholidays,” as a friend called them, were brief, but offered me a temporary and timely escape from personal routines. I documented the total percentage of the alcoholic content of beverages I consumed, at least sometimes, as part of the “research.”

Trying out a few different drinks in succession often led to sensations once alien to me, which made my vacation real interesting. It was fun, sure, but holidays must end too. Nevertheless, that experience also led to another first.

I began ascertaining my direction for the future, and I’ve come to conclusions that I can’t really disclose here. However, I can say that I started re-assessing my life, not that I haven’t done that before, but this time it’s really different.

I mulled and pondered privately, as well as over that vast, shape-shifting dimension called the Web. I map my growth by reading and re-reading my old journal entries, looking at old and new pictures, and updating my resume. I see the human connections I’ve made, both intimate and otherwise, and I remember how I’ve affected others and vice-versa.

There were many firsts, but they weren’t necessarily the best. There’s liberation by repetition, love at second sight, truth in rediscovery. And when some habits have formed or mutated, you look back fondly at those firsts anyway.

Because we perceive differently, each experience is unique and every other discovered object, obsession or muse becomes part of a series of personal mnemonic devices. These trigger specific memories of moments when you did or felt something special.

I remember the first time I listened to Sarah McLachlan, Jeff Buckley and the Beatles; I remember when my taste buds first encountered strange but wondrous concoctions; I remember how floored I was after reading Alan Moore’s “Watchmen.” Each thought connects colorfully to other bright mental snapshots. I distinctly remember getting published for the first time. I remember accepting that I can’t and won’t fit into religious cliques. I remember tensely writing about homophobia last year. The thoughts and sensations are nigh-infinite.

You learn much about yourself and your chosen path after those initial eureka moments. Doing things that have become part of who you are for the nth time can still feel like that seminal experience. I have an unwritten checklist of new things to do that, knock on wood, I hope to accomplish before I shuffle off this mortal coil.

Ultimately, each of us wants to be comfortable, to be happy in our own spheres. Whether your predilections or ambitions have led to success or failure, these are your own, and your lessons shape you in ways that only you can truly appreciate. The rush of doing something new, well, very few things can compare to that.

I can say that I’ve found elusive truths, painful dichotomies and beautiful, unfolding enigmas along the way, after some life-altering firsts. I’m bound to encounter more. I’ve always found bliss in many forms, colors, and tastes, and discovering new things and people in this planet that appeal to me adds to the thrill of living.