fullman*

Dennis Corteza warning Pride March participants of evangelicals protesting against LGBT rights.

Welcome, 2012. I’m 34, still gay, and apparently a potential threat to humanity. I say potential not because i’m single but because I’m not really the marrying type, and i’ve always believed that marriage is not automatically the default form of a good or ideal relationship. But put off your attacks, and yes, I’m talking to LGBT activists and bible-thumping bigots alike, because the age of vacuous thought processes, of insipid partisanship, and of plain, mind-boggling brainlessness is actually over. Okay, maybe I’m being a bit too optimistic, new year naman, but the point is, I will write about same-sex marriage, about faith, about LGBT rights, but not in this post.

Here, I just wish to look back a bit and try to understand 2011, to take stock of a year that yelled and pierced the heart, that kicked and laughed in silence. It was muted in many sense, especially compared to the carnival that was 2010, but last year was life-altering.

In 2011, by juggling hats, the pile on my plate grew bigger. I’ve embarked on several initiatives, with much help from kindred spirits and kind travelers, and rediscovered that fire in my belly, one that had learned figuratively (and literally!) to adapt and grow. Much of these I’d be talking in some other posts, but near the end of 2011, a new colleague flagged signs of getting burned out.

But while 2011 was a procession of deadlines, not much ended up written in this blog. This blog used to be an extension of my own engagements, a vast majority of which would be advocacy related (I can’t see your humanity, I remember a friend asking me. He quite recently was robbed of his, I must say). Yes despite an avalanche of advocacy work, I wasn’t able to write about them, and so this year – this shir – should be a year of rectification: perhaps less rambling, but a more organized reflection of things I’m passionate about. Fashion. Showbiz. Love.

So here, 2012. The manic, the amused, and the curious have said that the world will end this year. But what 2011 taught me is that the world ends not once but several times: when love itself ends, and when the heart refuses to beat; when you take a leap and discovers that the ground has disappeared; when people you love ceased to be and just stopped being.

The world ends and ends and ends, until you’ve learned to put a dot and found the next word to begin anew, and start the next line.