My Blog

Dear Circuit-boy,

So they called you a slut. Big deal.

Should that label be responsible for that infernal wedgie riding up your crack?

I always thought that one of the best things about evolving into our thirties is that we finally come to terms with ourselves. Careening through our tumultuous teens and drunken twenties, the thirties should offer us respite from ambivalence and peer-pressure paranoia. One may even arguably say that the thirties should be a decade of definition, of realizing our strengths and weaknesses, of acknowledging what we are and what we are definitely not.

So why then should you lose sleep over what some tired, cynical, angst-ridden queen has to say about your sexual proclivities?

Labelling is cliché. The intricacies of human life cannot be captured by a single derogatory remark on your person. If people refuse to be defined by a 40-hour a week job that barely pays minimum wage, why then should you allow your once-a-week habit of gyrating to the tempo of the house beat while savoring the undulating man-meat on the dance floor box you into being a slut? I find it ironic that as you dance with liberation and wild abandon, you allow yourself to be restricted by this same freedom. We are brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters. We are fathers, mothers, professionals, and students. We are gay, straight, bisexual, transgendered and so on. And yes, sometimes we are sluts too. Each term offers a snapshot of one’s nature but none of them are all-encompassing. They are co-dependent and are vital to creating a gestaltist perspective of one’s persona.

So when did it become scornful to celebrate sensuality and in essence, life? Some people celebrate the spiritual, others the cerebral and what not. Hoohah. Good for them. Why then should we vilify the celebration of the physical, carnal, and the divine sexual? As we perch on our moral high-horses and wag our tongues at the social butterflies we see flitting from one lap to another, do we not create a greater disservice to ourselves by limiting our own options to what society considers G-rated behavior? Acknowledging the sexual is imperative to understanding the repertoire of the human character. It is as essential as yin is to yang, as cigarettes are to coffee, as Sonny is to Cher, and yes, as Dolce is to Gabbana.

So why fear your own inner slut?

Embrace it and set it free.

Shake your booty and give J Lo a run for her money.

Rafael

Dear Indecisive,

A lot has to be said about careful planning. It helps for one to define a goal and dissect the strategies that need to be done to achieve it. Laying out your options and weighing each one of them based on objective realities could definitely help in figuring out the best course of action to employ. Understand though, that your choice can only be as good as your options. Limit your options to that which society considers safe and mediocre, and you’ll eventually end up with lukewarm decisions; decisions which, although sound and secure, are not the stuff of legends.

Where logic and reason fail, faith, hope and passion follow. Logic may arm you against the known, factorable consequences but it is strength of spirit and the resolute, almost stubborn adherence to your dreams, that would fuel you to shoot for the stars.

Calculating risks and factoring in the unexpected can never be overly stressed. But no matter what one does in foresight to see the bigger picture, one can never really fathom its entire meaning unless done in retrospect. Thus said, grabbing the bull by its horns is the only way to humanize one’s existence. Paint your canvass with splotches of vibrant reds, oranges and yellows and deviate from the somber grays and earthy browns. After all, life was never said to be safe. True, one can always surmise what outcomes may prevail given certain decisions. But life has too many uncertainties to figure out the summations of all these outcomes.

It helps not only to dream, desire and act; I’ve found it more rewarding to learn how to play the cards you’re dealt with the best way you can. Do not be one of angst-ridden twenty-somethings who blame fate, their parents, or their dysfunctional upbringing for their onus. Do not allow the circumstances to manipulate you; manipulate the circumstances to work for you. I’ve always subscribed to the belief that the individual is decisive; he creates his own destiny. Hits and misses are all part of the gamble. But hey, it’s your hits and misses to make. It’s your successes, your failures. It’s your life, own it. Only you could decide how to live it best. After all, life is just plain too short to fuss over stuff that would be immaterial 20 years from now.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      And this is the stuff from which life, great novels, and interesting headstones are born.                                                                                                                                                                            

Rafael