Seasoned

24 April 2022

2 Samuel 7:18-29, David's Prayer. In his joy after the bestowed honor, he praised God for the blessings he has granted.

My sister has noods circulating in the critical eyes of decent public. At first I was extremely agitated that she really wanted to pay. How could she let a stranger have this much power over her? I will not support psychological torture on weak-willed people; extortion by preying on other people's fears.

Nude photos are dime-a-dozen and people are committing sexual acts with their partners or by themselves the world over. But the fuss and intrigue involved in sex, its disclosure and general ambiance, continues to become a paradox. Fornication is universally acknowledged as a natural and vital act to engage in. But in different circumstances, the connotation differs.

The repercussions of releasing private photos of people whose carnal aspects are otherwise not shared publicly is far-reaching. The attacks on a person's image when the perception people have of her virtue is irreparably damaged has consequences. Society's ill-concealed deviances then rears out and splashes on allegorical pools of blood. Because when shared activities that are kept private are taken out of context and outside its intended use without consent, it becomes viewed as perverse and the subconsciously primal nature of society emerges and rejoices maliciously.

I really made another writeup regarding this and mistakenly had it deleted. I no longer have it in me to write the same sentiments, particularly my hypocrisy. It is not worth going through twice. What I am willing to repeat though is how our headspaces affect the perspective by which we view things: how pornography seems to be a drop in the ocean compared to that drop being a lingering echo in a dry bucket if that sexualized content was viewed for the first time by the subject's immediate family who knows but are not exposed to this person's sexual side.

The reading though. There was this undercurrent of emotional upheaval. At first, I was seeing the situation logically until it hit me on a personal level and I can't sleep. But slept nevertheless thinking how commonplace it is to be nude and for prurient activities to happen. Ah, the smoke and shadows we love playing peek-a-boo on sheer curtains with! When I awoke, I got mad and wanted to purge my sister of her perversity and foolishness. If you're horny, be smart about it, not a naive dumbass like sheep for slaughter. She went on with saying how she doesn't want to trouble our parents. Had you thought of that first and held on to it, you wouldn't be mired in a situation where you'll be considered of ill repute and metaphorically covered in a scent that invites indecent proposals and harrassment.

The least I wanted was for her to live in fear.  The turn around was great! You are always perfect, aren't You?

My emotions have shifted to directions I did not lead it to and my standards for morality on what is natural and what is perverse in relation to sexuality and its related acts are brackish water at best.

I know I have to be with my sister, in support of her. My present, past and future rally with me before her. But I am filled with judgments against her, rooted in prejudices borne of a bigoted, conservative and most undeniably, hypocritical culture which cannot escape its primal nature. I could be with her but my spite would lash at her and I will inevitably hurt her when she's already downtrodden. I had to take time to fortify myself. And while everything's fluid, I came to You and asked for Your word. What did You give me --- David's prayer.

It deals with David's praise, in gratefulness of the honor bestowed upon him, to have his descendants enthroned forevermore. Until the end, he was describing that the event was a blessing. A blessing. You are saying that this eventful weekend is a blessing?

Immediately, I thought of it as an early warning. If this had not happened, this type of behavior would have persisted. By entrapping it at an early stage, it would not fester.

And so it goes. It is a blessing. Sam will not carry on with her shenanigans. Surely, she has learned her lesson! Sam has seen how much people love her, that their love accepts her though she faltered, that she is given love that transcends judgment. I do hope that their show of support (her inner circle) would not make her feel like her behavior was condoned.

It is my blessing. You have shown through Sam that grace comes from You. Just last night she was shaking and was giving in to the demands of a virtual stranger in response to threats of defamation. She is upholding herself with dignity and embraces that she had sinned and is remorseful. This grace is from You. It will not be sustained by self-righteousness, because she knows she's in the wrong. But she's determined to make it right.

People are blessings. You are my blessing. Without You, everything has no meaning. My thoughts are not absolute but I shouldn't be lost because I am meant to learn along the way, from other people as well, though I have to take it with a grain of salt.

Salacious cynicism or cynical salaciousness

 23 April 2022

2am

I can't sleep. Not because I drank coffee. I've been doing so since Tuesday until Saturday morning, courtesy of Gab preparing his brews.

Rica earns her money from her sugar daddy. That works well, especially since she feels sexually frustrated for the surgery that would dewomanize her.

I was surprised with myself too that I am enticed by the thought of selling soiled underwear to the perverts out there, a pair for 25 dollars. That's a hefty rate. It's relatively hassle free. I simply have to wear underwear then ship them off to someone who wants them however baffled that makes me.

I remember asking Vish how buying used underwear works. She said it has something to do with being more sensually into masturbating. What worried me was that to sell those goods, I had to create a brand: post photos that could help prospects to complete the conditions simulating sexual stimulation. That was a deterrent. I have no intentions of posting myself almost naked or in suggestive poses to sell goods.

What ticks me off more with this advertisement prerequisite is that I am not only enabling, but abetting perversity. My moral standards on this are muted. It is not gray in a room of black and white. It is beige, and can be altered.

Technically, it is not engaging in sexual acts. Or committing extramarital affairs. There would be no direct contact at all. Only an illusion of one. People who consciously agree to dupe themselves and are willing to pay for it. I am cashing on merchandise that fulfills people's fantasies. People who are far far away from me. And of course, I would not be buck naked. Nor would I give in to stripping completely in those photos.

I'll simply be selling clothes with my body fluids which in my mind is as bizarre as knowing that people want to pay for my urine or a shirt I sweat on. Those I find in the same category as shipping underpants worn for an entire day without washing it first, is acceptable but as bonkers as having your smelly socks auctioned. The implication of the permission that you hand over to people to think as they wish of your persona, that is my moral dilemma.

Aside from this moral ponderance, by principle, I am just peeved that selling the product requires an image to propel it. I want to preserve my anonymity in relation to this as much as possible and I am not adept in posing per se, how could I project it when I do not even feel myself as a full woman? It is a challenge which, I would not lie, I am up to.

If only it isn't distasteful for me. I still prefer posting announcements: soiled panties for sale.

Then comes the revelation. My sister has been sending nudes. Not only photos. I guess she's been sending videos too. She's being blackmailed for it. I did not loan her the ransom fee. Not too long after I received a photo of her from the perpetrator. Knowing that she has those photos out there is one thing. Seeing it made me mentally mute. She really did it. What has she gotten into?

Now, the shock has waned. I keep on thinking, there are many photos and videos of naked women out there consciously being part of porn. Surely, she won't stand out. The same way not everyone would read this entry and I could go on with this with minimal consequences, a parallel to running a radio program on a frequency only I am privy to. I am starting to envision that in the future, sending nude selfies and posting ads on YouTube-as-their-progenitor sites selling week-old aged panties would be commonplace.

La Union waves

 08 April 2022

In this new place, I decided to wake up to welcome the morning. I did not dally but explored to see the sunrise by myself. To be joined by friends after some time.

Walking through the shore, along paths with  Tanduay signs on sensor lamp posts, I walked from the beach by El Navi to what I later came to know as Kabsat. Along those lamp posts, I inhaled calachuchi blossoms. Initially, Kabsat had a bad rap on me for blocking the sunrise but I came to enjoy it. The waves on its beach front are amazing!

After breakfast, we headed to the Turtle beach resort then Nano Surf where we were schooled on how to surf. Eventually, we were told that the instructors are on call and do not stay in the shop premises because it spooks possible clients. Hearing it  sparked sense to that primal logic.

The nose, then the side, the tail and fins: the instructor-Mr. Gilbert-has a tone of business authority which was enjoyable given that he exudes reliability borne of experience. I could see myself as the weary sounding version. I have to square my shoulders properly more often. It would take conscious effort.

Then we were introduced one by one to our respective instructors. I remember I thought of hiring for half an hour only. Mr. Michael was assigned to me and I used a pink and blue board which was short, had one fin and was covered with the material used as soles of house slippers to keep people from slipping.

The concept of the leash on the board and my ankle was funny. Though we were told not to approach it, it became instinctive to me to run after the board, instead of commanding it by pulling at the leash. The leash tie entangles me, wrapping around my ankle and I could barely fight the waves that being apart from the board, I could be caught unaware, pulled by the board and the waves; the waves wait for no one. That was how I adapted. I do not want to hit the board. I do not want the board to hit another person. And it also ends upturned, its belly, the fin, facing the sky. That alarms me, like a snake showing me its underside in submission; an unnatural state. So I come to the board. By the end, after a breather where I reapplied sunblock because I can't open my tumbler (no logic there, just a deviation for my break), I felt more in command of myself, than under the mercy of the waves.

I tugged at the leash to bring the board close. A sense of command came to me, a direct contradiction of the state of mind I was in: lying on my belly in a flat board, with my arms stretched upward to the nose and my hands gripping the sides, dependent on the guide herding me and the board facing the waves clapping the shore. I am not completely helpless. A person guides me to have fun. It was supposed to be fun; to barely catch my breath as I stretch on a board on my belly, facing the waves, salt on my tongue, its sting on my eyes. I was suffering. The waves swell, I rise with it as I face it and when it moves away, I fall - gently if the waves are closed, they roll; with a slam if the waves are open and foamy, they drop me in their wake. They were relentless: I wanted to catch my breath; they were catching theirs too because after staring at them for a while, it came to me that the oceans are the lungs of the planet and the waves are its very breath - it won't stop.

Placing myself at the board; entrusting the guide; being at the mercy of the waves' ferocity and frequency and its inevitable ripple on you; standing; balancing to the end --- surfing is beautiful. It challenges me to face the heat, the salt, the breathless moments. It naturally places my trust on the  board - the vehicle of fun; my guide - who helps me catch the wind in water; the waves - I am nothing but an opportunist in their existence. I failed to trust one thing: my person-that I would stand and then bend and allow the expiring wave to carry me to shore. I was overthinking if my form was right. There was this instance I just laid there, ready until I reached the shore, for the experience of it that I consciously chose. That one hour was brainless. I am thinking on instinct and my photos show that I always have my hands up.

I distinctly remember I was already praying: really Lord, I am supposed to have fun with this activity (?) and that I was already contemplating never doing it again. Or that I was considering surfing as the counterpart of biking in the water. And that I am so sold to just learning to do that activity on land. I was limiting myself.

My thoughts on this changed dramatically  when by the day's end, I tried jumping with the waves. It's fun! That brings me to today, when I experienced the waves fuller. When I rode it with my body, not with the board. If we're going with parallels, I was walking this time. I faced it head on. I charged against it and braced myself for the impact. I knew I could tumble; I was hoping it would just pass by me gently, like a liquid ghost brushing against my physical being. It feels free. I am free to keep on facing waves that wouldn't end. I am ready to face each wave. I am not scared. I rush to meet it, a smile on my salted lips and a sparkle in my eye. I was quick with the refractory period: standing up, pulling my loosened shorts, underwear, and leggings up, sweeping my hair from my face, running my hand through my face to wipe my eyes, then I rush to meet the next wave ever ready.