How Binondo forced my frown

It must have been my old infatuation with the Chinese language, Putonghua as I was told, that enthralled me to go and see Binondo. I was 17-years-old and all I had were romanticized visions of noodles selling like hot pancakes in the morning, shelves full of glittering charm crystals and stacks of hopia in all shapes and sizes--rich and vibrant. 

Right then, 'Go to Binondo' was added to my to-do list.

But years after, with most of the Chinese words and symbols I had learned now lost within my neural network, and Kim Chui's hit series My Binondo Girl ranked in the ratings war, I was still yet to strike a line through my six-year-old entry.

So I finally asked my tita its whereabouts. She could go on explaining but I could never figure it out. And I never understood why I never thought of just Google-ing it.

Pak! Pak! Pak! The machine-gun like sounds of the Judas belt brought me back to senses. I was there standing a few feet away from a red dragon and a couple more from a yellow lion.

So this is Binondo. Finally.

A 7-day heterosexual diary

I'm taking up LGBT Psychology this semester and one of its holiday homework is to write a diary abut the different ways heterosexuality affects us. So I gathered up seven instances during the break which shows how I had been heterosexualized :)

Entry#1

My mom was invited to the wedding where both the bride and the groom happened to be her students when they were still in high school. So her name was on the list under the “ninang” section and was paired with a “ninong” whom we both didn't know. So as I was reading the list of invited guests, it dawned on me how strong heterosexuality’s role was played—most females that would walk down the aisle should be accompanied by a male. But my mom and I chose not to go the wedding on the day itself. Did the strong imposition of heterosexuality turned me off? Perhaps. Or we just got lazy.