We usually have Thanksgiving dinner over at a dear friend's place, so we never had any reason to cook our own. Unfortunately, our friend was out of town this year, and we did not receive any other invitations. Or perhaps, we just were not invited and I have yet to realize that nobody cares...LOL. So at the very very last minute, we decided to make a go at exploring unchartered territory. I thought it would be fun to make our very first turkey. I invited my sister & niece to be our guinea pigs. Since we were going to be only a party of four, Bill got a 12 lb. turkey. We were advised that we needed 15 minutes for every pound to cook it just right. By the time it was three hours prior to dinnertime, the set time to start putting the bird in the oven, we learned that it actually required 4-5 hours. We panicked and started arguing in the kitchen! Oh...oh, this might not have been such a good idea after all. It's a good thing I had not invited anyone else. This would have been so embarrassing! Fortunately, I had earlier defied the printed instructions and decided to thaw the frozen bird, even if it was specified not to. So in spite of the limited time, it eventually came out perfect, and we had a simple but wonderful Thanksgving dinner with all the traditional trimmings. In spite of the fact that I am a newly naturalized citizen of America, my newly naturalized tongue had yet to acquire the taste for the bland white meat of this said fowl. Now can somebody please pass the salt or fish sauce...LOL. Happy Thanksgiving everybody!
Finally, after 4241 days or 11 years, 7 months, and 9 days, since I landed on U.S. soil, with the intention of permanently residing in the States, I am now an American citizen!!!
My journey began when my Vietnamese prostitute mother, who managed to escape from the clutches of her Eurasian pimp, decided to give me up , so that I could have the chance for a better life in America. As Saigon burned and fell, she hurriedly handed me to an American G.I. soldier and pleaded to take me on board his helicopter. It proved to be a shaky escape and the turbulent flight caused me to be propelled outside the chopper and I fell out on to the sea. After several hours, I was then rescued by a boat filled with other fleeing refugees. Sadly, our boat sank when she hit an iceberg. I narrowly escaped drowning when someone flung me on top of an over-inflated tire interior. I floated across the ocean, paddling away from Havana hoping to land in Miami...but I somehow ended up in Mexico. Giving up every dollar my father had saved from the sale of our carabaos to some local "coyotes", just so that I could be smuggled by them into theStates. They had me crawl my way through a small tunnelunderground crossing the U.S.-Mexico border. Along with mynewfound Hispanic friends, we ran across the unforgiving desert and fortunately were missed by the U.S. border patrol. Eventually, I made it to East L.A., sold fruits by the freeway, and slowly worked my way to the "waspy"Westside. Oops...okay...okay...my juiced-up overactive imagination got the best of me and I once again got carried away.
My story was not that dramatic, but nevertheless was almost just as challenging... As a son of an airline man, I was able to travel for free and visit the U.S.A. from my homeland, the Philippines, practically any summer I wanted. That was what America was to me...just a place to visit relatives and perhaps visit Mickey. I never dreamed or imagined that I would one day want to live in the United States.Had my parents been able to foresee the future, then my Mom could have easily come here and have given birth to me on U.S. soil. My Dad had two opportunities to become a U.S. citizen even before I was born, but never saw any reason to pursue it. When President Clinton signed the bill to make WWIIveterans automatic citizens, my Dad decided to go for it for my sake. But alas, I was already over the cut-off age. Had it happened before my 21st birthday, then I would have automatically become a U.S. citizen along with my father.
Unlikemillions of altruistic people from other developing countries, who make the sacrifice of leaving their homeland and everything behind, in search of a better life for themselves and their families, the catalyst that drove me to leave the Philippines was pretty lame.At a quarter of a century old, I found myself with a new job and a new love. A little more than four months later, all within the same day, before the first full weekend of the New Year 1995, I found myself all of a sudden jobless and single. I was fired from my job since my performance suffered due to spending so much of my energy on traveling back and forth from Manila toHong Kong to feed this relationship. I was young and naive and made the mistake of having a long distance affair with someone who apparently was not worthy of my love. I discovered that my relationship had betrayed me by having dangerous liaisons with two other so-called friends of mine. Call it triple jeopardy or my own private soap opera. I was devastated and depressed for the next three months.I then knew that I needed a change of environment to get out of thisrut.So I decided to use my very last free international airline ticket to take me across the Pacific Ocean to the U.S.A.. Yes, I was not "fresh off the boat"... I flew, first class delivery, no less...LOL. I was filled with champagne wishes and caviar dreams with only a pocket full of change and a "Hollywood or Bust" kind of attitude. I was full ofexcitement,even if it meant looking forward to a life without my nanny and maids...LOL
Even as I landed in Hawaii, I never had a clue that the next few years would be the most humbling experience of my lifetime.It was a struggle, but I believe it built my character. I've already given too much information (again), so I will just skip the sordid details. My family and most of my closest friends know what I had to go through to reach this point.I would like to take this opportunity to thank my family andall my friends. I would like to especially thank some very special people who were an integral part of this journey: Paul T., who gave me an Aloha welcome during my stay in Hawaii; Carlos G. for taking care of me while I was in San Francisco and giving me the skills to survive in Amerika, such as how to cook rice and Filipino dishes; Jerz, for being like a "mother" away from home; Jesse Z. for showing me how hard work in Amerika pays off; Phillip G. for offering me a sofa to sleep on during my time in San Francisco; my twin cousin Robin and my relatives in Redwood City; Jojo S. for our joint venture in CiBa; my sweetie for giving me the key to my dreams; and last but not the least, my Bill, who saved me in more ways than he will ever know. Oh I guess, I should also thank my former employers at the sweatshops and the immigration lawyers, who gave me the opportunity to contribute to their children's college funds...LOL
My oath taking happened sooner than expected. It was held at the Fairplex in Pomona, California, which is like 50 miles away from home. USCIS, never seems to want to make it easy for me. My appointment was at 8AM. In spite of the fact that we left the house very early, we were late due to inaccurate mapquest directions and over-congested traffic. I figured that there would be several Filipinos, and therefore could relax at the big possibility that I wasn't the only one running on "Filipino time"...LOL. There were 3025 people who were going to be naturalized in my batch. The top five biggest ethnic groups who were going to become Americans that morning were from 1. Mexico, 2. Philippines, 3. El Salvador, 4. Iran, 5. Vietnam. Mexico has always beaten the Philippines in this game. Two days later, Philippines would beat Mexico, only this time it would be in the super featherweight boxing match, where my countryman, Manny "Pacman" Pacquiaoknocked-out Erik "El Terrible" Morales III on the third round. Oh I digressed...anyway...back to me...LOL. I didn't foresee that it was going to be such an emotional moment for me. When the judge started swearing us in and told all of us that she was keenly aware of how long most of us have waited for this day to come, and the hardships that most of us had to endure and overcome...I started to shed a tear and balanced it on my right cheek and dabbed it as it hit my right dimple...LOL. Bill, my friend Jojo S., who was visiting from Manila, and his mother, Tita Mely, were there to share this joyous moment with me. I was very happy! I found it funny when they announced, "You can choose to change your name legally, if it is too long, too hard to pronounce...", and I found it ironic when they continued by saying, "...or if you want it to sound more American." More American!..what is that supposed to mean?...You just told us we were now Americans...LOL. The lady who handed my certificate was an African American, and she said, "Oh, how nice, you legally changed your Japanese name to that of Puff Daddy's!". I had to tell her, "No madame, I am not Japanese, and that is indeed my real name...I am the original Sean John, since I am older than P. Diddy by 73 days!". Now that I am an American, I can be arrested for lewd conduct or indecent exposure, and no longer have the fear of being deported...LOL. (just kidding, mother!) I continue to pray for several family & friends of mine, who are not yet fully settled or do not have their papers in order. Hang in there...your time will come soon...I know it will. Coming to America made me appreciate and value my Philippine heritage, identity, history, culture, and food, etc., even more. I will always be proud to be a Filipino and do miss my homeland, but at least, as acitizen of the U.S.A., I now can contribute to the future of the place I now have called home.
Among the sea of U.S. flag-waiving former second-class citizens,
now my fellow Americans
WANTED Newbie U.S. CitizenWanted: for jury duty. Wanted: by The Republican Party. (They need your vote now more than ever.) Wanted: to bear arms for the misguided war in Iraq.
I'm experimenting with a new title to my blog, another word play using my name with the concept of TMI, "Too Much Inform-a-Sean". I think it is also apropos for my blog, since my friends have been teasing me for what they deem as a strong propensity for sharing too many details...LOL For now, I am retiring my original title, "Memoirs of a Gay-Sean", which was a play on words from the novel/movie, "Memoirs of a Geisha". I believed then (and continue to believe) that it is an appropriate title for my blog, since this was about sharing stories of my life anyway. I assumed that everyone, in my circle, at least, would get the joke and see the humor in it. Unfortunately, not all did. The supposedly witty title was to showcase more of my sense of humor, instead of being miscontrued as an advertisement or propoganda of my sexuality. There is certianly more to me than my sexual orientation. I had to realize the hard way that the world is not yet ready for such openness. I had to acquiesce to the fact that I have a lot of people in my milieu, whom I love unconditionally, who have more conservative political and religious leanings. Sharing was for me a means to give joy and to get it back in return, not heartache... no, not heartache. In my younger days, I would automatically rebel, but now that I'm older (and hopefully more mature) , I am learning to conform for the greater good...or is it the lesser evil(?).
Thanks to short-term memory, I now know more of U.S. history and government than most native-born Americans, and/or those raised and educated in this country! I passed my U.S. citizenship exam with flying colors of red, white, & blue and got a perfect score!
The immigration officer who conducted my exam/interview was a fellow Filipino, but unfortunately, instead of being nice, turned our to be a big jerk. Blame it on "crab mentality", I guess. He questioned me with a cloud of suspicion from the very get-go. It's a good thing I was quite confident with my responses, and my memory of my past answers and details served me well. I was nothing like the nervous wreck that I was during my greencard interview more than five years ago...LOL.
He then asked me if I was interested in changing my name legally. Hmmm...Sean Gates or Sean Buffett doesn't sound bad for an Ameican name, I thought for a very brief moment... Nah...my family would never forgive me. Besides, never say never, there is still that chance that I may be able to sire a son one day who will carry on my family name.
For the English speaking/writing test, I was flabbergasted to be asked to write the very simple sentence, "I enjoy going shopping everyday." Gosh...and here I was ready to recite the Gettysburg Address to him. I was also as ready as any bad American Idol hopeful, to belt out The Star-Spangled Banner. Apparently, it wasn't a requirement...LOL.
After passing all the requirements, I was then informed that my oath taking will be scheduled for 25OCT. Shucks! I told him I couldn't make it, since I am due to be back from my vaca-sean in Indochina on 27OCT. I requested if I could be rescheduled on the next one. He taunted me by asking, "Why don't you cancel your trip?, What is more important, being a U.S. citizen or your vacation?!...Okay, I will indicate here that you don't want to take the oath!" No, it's not that I don't, but rather I can't, sir!, I politely but firmly responded. "Well, this can create a problem for your application and it might take another six months to a year before you get a notice.", he further teased. It seemed like this man was in the mood to try to push my buttons, so I played it cool. Oh well, I'll just have to wait for the next scheduled oath taking. Hopefully it happens before the general elections on 07NOV.
It is so ironic...one of the reasons I wanted so badly to become a U.S. citizen a.s.a.p., aside from having the right to vote, was so that I could travel with a blue U.S. passport, to avoid visa requirements to most world travel destin-a-SEANs. And here I am going to travel using my newly renewed Philippine passport to go visit Vietnam & Cambodia, both of which do not require a visa for citizens of the Philippines and other ASEAN na-seans. Bill and my other American friends/travel companions, on the other hand, are required to have one for each. So it worked out perfectly in the end.
Alas, sadly the time has come to return "Brooke", my Blue Lagoon Metallic 2003 VW New Beetle GLS Turbo, after a three-year-long love affair, and get a brand new car...
I grew up learning how to drive witha"Bug". My parents got me a White 1970 model, a Herbie look-a-like, shortly after I was born. As soon as my high school buddies and I had learned how to drive, they would frequently tease me, "Here comes Sean again, driving "The Egg"!".
Six years ago, when I finally got tired of spending four hours a day taking the bus to/from work in spread-out Los Angeles, I decided to get my first car in the U.S.A.. Wanting to stick with tradition, I got and drove, for the next three years, a fully loaded New Volkswagen Beetle, "Coby", my Cool Cobalt Blue 2001 VW New Beetle GLX Turbo.
Now, after having three "Pods" in a row, and with the latest models not having the turbo engine anymore, I felt it was time to go with something higher (No, not all Asians like their cars lowered...LOL), has side protection (since I drive to work via a shortcut through the "ghetto" filled with uninsured motorists), and a pop-up back window (so that my dogs could ride with me). I wanted something affordable and easy, small but cute, rugged on the outside but sophisticated in the inside, high maintenance but reliable, has a sexy body in spite of high fuel consumption...Oh darn, I'm talking about myself again! Well, they say, "You are what you drive!"...LOL. I wanted a small SUV that was fully loaded with all the bells & whistles, and high-end exterior/interior add-ons, which came only in the limited edition. Even if I am not from San Francisco, I still like my leather, so my car seats had to be in leather. After several weeks of researching, test driving, pitting dealers against each other...with my surprisingly impressive credit score, my publicist/agent/manager was able to negotiate the best deal, and I finally got my new baby...
Yup, I broke the VW and the "blue" cycle. I am really not a "red" kind of guy, but I really liked this Inferno Red Crystal Pearl coat. She's gorgeous! I was going to name her "Rosie", since she's pretty like the flower, but she then might be seen as a certain abrasive butch lesbian celebrity. So, I named her "Robin" 'cuz I wanted a name that is androgynous: Colorful like the bird, feminine and strong like a red-lipstick lesbian, but masculine and athletic like the Boy Wonder...LOL.
It's been amonth now, since my boss, on the very last minute, promoted me by exiling me to another office, to salvage the possibility of losing a major law firm account. As soon as I got back from my mini vacation, I was shipped seven blocks away, demoted to a lower floor, but given a corner office. The only people in this firm who get a corner office in the entire building are the partners. Well, who was I to complain, since I did not have to make partner and even go to law school, for that matter, to getmy corner. I even have a bigger office than some of my neighboring attorneys. My only complaint is that I still do not have my requested ocean view. I guess it is an impossible request, if one's office is in downtown Los Angeles. For now my view is a construction site of another future condo, the old Hotel Figueroa (which side wall is used for movie promos), the Staples Center, the L.A. Convention Center, the 110 Pasadena/Harbor Freeway, and the infamous L.A. smog.
The dresscode in this trial law firm is so laid-back, it is almost difficult to differentiate the mailroom boy from a partner who is wearing a torn vintage T-shirt, cargo pants, and flip-flops. They change to their power suits only when they travel, go to court or meet with clients. Even if I like dressing up, I find it such a refreshing change. I guess I'll just have to adapt and update my homey wardrobe for casual Mondays to Fridays.
I find myself busier than ever and more stressed, taking no breaks, leaving the office late, skipping the gym, having dinner very late, and losing sleep. At this pace, the firm had better give me my ocean view, or else!...LOL.
I do not know what happened, but when I turned 29, something suddenly changed...I stopped being carded to check if I was 21 or older, when I would enter a bar/club and/or order a cocktail. Once my age number surpassed my waistline number, which I proudly maintained since college, I got the feeling that it was the sign that it was all going downhill from there. Then when I turned 35, commercialism made me keenly aware that I was no longer part of the marketable young demographic. Nowadays, I have to stop and think to remember how old I actually am. It now seems just like any other number... I guess until I reach the Big 4-0. Now at my age, especially since I came to my parents' lives, with my mother having just turned 41, I feel simply blessed to still have them with me. Fortunately, they are still relatively quite healthy in their late 70s-mid 80s. However, that does not stop me from worrying about my elderly parents since the vast Pacific separates us. It's a good thing that my father has this lifetime benefit, for both my mom and himself, of flying first class free during their lifetime, after my dad retired from the airline. Thus they are able to visit their kids abroad at their pleasure. I have not seen my Dad in a year and my Mom in two, so my birthday was extra special, since they decided to fly over here to be with my sister, Bill, and me, for our successive birthdays in August. That's the best gift I could have asked for!
Bill and Iare celebrating our 11th anniversary today! That's more than a decade! That's 77 in gay dog years! Now, whoever said that I was unlovable and that same sex relationships can't/don't last beyond one night to six months?!? We now have surpassed millions of breeder couplings who have either ended their marriage in divorce, legal separation,...or (as in the case of some of my fellow Roman Catholics) annulments! In a little more than a week, we will be headed for Vermont. No, not to get married or anything like that. We're going to attend the wedding of Bill's nephew, Kaya, to his beautiful fiance, Kelley, which happens to fall on Bill's birthday. The blessing of our own union will just have to wait until the powers that be allow us to live in a more beautiful, educated, and enlightened world.
I apparently received a one-week notice for an appointment to have my fingerprinting done in connection with my U.S. citizenship application, during the period that I was out of town. By the time I opened the letter, the date had already passed and now I was at risk of having my application delayed even further. I immediately wrote a letter of complaint to the USCIS, explaining why I missed it, that they should have given me a more advanced notice, and that they therefore should now expedite my application. I marched to the nearest immigration application center ready to do battle. I was surprised to be greeted by a friendly clerk, who simply said, "Well you're in luck, today is a slow day, and we can take you right this moment". I imagined with the modern infra-red photo-technology, this was going to be a quick, clean and painless procedure. I was wrong. It took an average of seven swipes per finger to get a good read. I could see the officer was getting frustrated as she painfully kept wiping my finger with a wet cloth to moisten it. She then asked me, "What kind of work do you do?!?". Oh boy, I knew what she was actually trying to say behind that question. She meant that the reason my prints were not registering properly is perhaps due to my hands seemingly being drier than that of a common farmer's daughter. I came to America with skin as soft as a baby's butt. Now after 11 years of life in America without affordable household help; I am only left with a memory of my once soft and smooth hands. The officer had to ask a supervisor to approve my fingerprint readings and override the system to finally accept them as passable. I was so apologetic to them. They eventually gave me a smile to appease my embarrassment. I hollered back at them, "I swear, I moisturize my hands at least 6 times a day!". Not realizing then that I sounded more like a horny teenager confessing that he has been up to no good...LOL.
Last April, I got a clean bill of health from my doctor, during my annual physical. But last June I was diagnosed with sarcoidosis, which is a disease that mainly affects the lungs. Call it coincidental, psychosomatic, or blame it on the "Brokeheart Mountain" in my chest, I have been bogged down by A Bad Case of A "Bulldogged" Cough for these past six weeks. My throat is not sore, but I have lost my normal voice because of it. I really have not been expectorating any phlegm, but the few times I did, it was tinged with blood. According to my mother, asthma, bronchopneumonia, chronic bronchitis run in my family's health history. My doctors were concerned that it might be tuberculosis, simply on the account that I was born and raised in a third world/developing country. All of the test results came back negative and all of these diseases, including mold and allergies, have all been weeded out. I then went through a barrage of pulmonary tests and fortunately my chest and breathing results came back normal. Here is hoping that it is just some quirky summer allergy and I get better soon... P.S. I guess I have to note that I am HIV negative, just in case you are one of those types who narrow-mindedly do the math and think: "gay man + sickness = must have AIDS" , and might unnecessarily worry about me.
Long before Meryl, played the ruthless and cynical Miranda Priestly in "The Devil Wears Prada" in 2006, she did "The River Wild" in 1994 with Kevin Bacon... We flew up to Oregon, where Bill's mother and one of his brothers live, for a family reunion and to celebrate another brother's milestone birthday. To save on the air fare we decided to fly on Alaska Airlines/Horizon Air. Big mistake! Once we got there, not all of our luggage had arrived with us. It immediately put a damper on and stopper to our activities for the next 28 hours. That's how long it took for the airline to deliver our missed luggage & golf bag. So the highlight of our first day was having to buy toiletries and clothes at the local Walmart. I never imagined that I would have so much fun at a store like Walmart!...LOL.
For X'mas 2000, I took Bill's one and only niece, Carley, to the Philippines, to meet my friends & family, and experience the beauty and culture of my homeland. This time around, my own niece, Czarina, was with me. I was so excited for her to experience my partner's beautiful and loving family. It was great to see everyone again. It has been exactly 10 years since I was first introduced to them after Bill came out to his family six months prior.
One of the highlights of this trip was a full day of wild river kayaking on the Rouge River, same river where "The River Wild" was filmed. So just like some of Meryl's characters, I too enjoy fashion, but also enjoy the great outdoors.
I am the result of an accidental and final creative effort between my mother, a writer & retired hotelier who comes from a musical family, and my father, a joker & retired airline man who has an enormous zest for life. People who know them well have said that I've inherited the best of their gifts. This is an attempt to share parts of my mundane life, which include entries about my family, my "in-laws", my friends, my pets, my travels, my adventures, my goofing around, and some of my feeble endeavors in writing, poetry, and song writing, etc. Hope you like my bloggerole of rigmarole ... my bloggerdash of balderdash!
We usually have Thanksgiving dinner over at a dear friend's place, so we never had any reason to cook our own. Unfortunately, our friend was out of town this year, and we did not receive any other invitations. Or perhaps, we just were not invited and I have yet to realize that nobody cares...LOL.
ed my sister & niece to be our guinea pigs. Since we were going to be only a party of four, Bill got a 12 lb. turkey. We were advised that we needed 15 minutes for every pound to cook it just right. By the time it was three hours prior to dinnertime, the set time to start putting the bird in the oven, we learned that it actually required 4-5 hours. We panicked and started arguing in the kitchen! Oh...oh, this might not have been such a good idea after all. It's a good thing I had not invited anyone else. This would have been so embarrassing! Fortunately, I had earlier defied the printed instructions and decided to thaw the frozen bird, even if it was specified not to. So in spite of the limited time, it eventually came out perfect, and we had a simple but wonderful Thanksgving dinner with all the traditional trimmings. In spite of the fact that I am a newly naturalized citizen of America, my newly naturalized tongue had yet to acquire the taste for the bland white meat of this said fowl. Now can somebody please pass the salt or fish sauce...LOL.
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