I’m a bitch (?)

It had to happen sooner or, in this case, later. I mean, it took almost ten years but now, I dare ask. Have I finally embodied the qualities of my nickname?

Flashback to 1998, when J, whom I met at the Dumaguete Writers’ Summer Workshop in 1996,  christened me The Zen Bitch. At that time I was working as a book editor for an institute that teaches esoterica (Pranic Healing, specifically). I was even a trained and certified Pranic Healer. I was also a vegetarian who did Twin Hearts Meditation daily. More or less these comprised the ‘zen’ part of my ‘bitchiness’. I loved the phrase. Maybe because it was bestowed upon me in a good-natured manner (J was a damn good friend). Maybe because I delighted in being called something cool (a bitch goes a long way farther than being called nice, or kind).

So I began using ‘The Zen Bitch’ to identify myself. It appeared on my email accounts, on the poetry and fiction I was writing, on correspondences with friends (not family, at least until after a few years later), even on the job–after I ended my stint at the institute and returned to NGO work.

My friends loved it as well. For reasons I will not dare find out now.

I reveled in this (in my mind) delightful nomenclature. Finally, I thought, after years of being boring and being that proverbial fly on the wall, I now have something people can really remember about me. You see, growing up, I was the most well-behaved boy. I was a strict follower of rules. I only spoke when spoken to, I didn’t answer back rudely, I obeyed my elders, and all that s**t. This continued well into high school, well, most of high school anyway, for this was the start of my rebellion against being the best little boy in the world.

But no, I didn’t smoke or drink or get into drugs or fights, and other troubles that kids that age got into. To do that, you need friends, or at least, other people. But did I mention that I was also socially inept in high school? Yes, in the four years I was in high school, I can only count 1 person as a friend. And yet, after graduating, I never saw him again. Such is the scope of my ineptitude. My rebellion came in the form of sex. I discovered that even if many of my classmates would not even speak to me in class, they are not above accepting a discreet hand-job or blow-job in a quiet corner of the school. After that, some became sorta nicer to me but most just went back to ignoring me. I was unremarkable in high school. Well, except for that sex-thing probably.

College was an easier time for me. But through it all, I realized that oftentimes the source of my social missteps and problems were rooted in my reticence. I was far too quiet for my own good. I liked to keep things within me: joy, misery, frustrations, anger. No wonder I’d been hyper-acidic since I was 12 years old. To change things, I decided that from that time on, I would try my best to express myself. No more repression for this latent gay guy. To me, being called The Zen Bitch was the culmination of my efforts to change my life.

And so, The Zen Bitch is born, totally ignoring the negative connotations of the word . To me being  The Zen Bitch meant being empowered enough to express myself, no matter what the consequences are.

Lately, however, things have given me pause. Am I becoming (or worse, have I become) a bitch in the true sense of the word? Not in the physical sense (I have yet to turn into a woman or a female dog) but in character. Have I taken my crusade of self-expression too far? Recent events have also led me to think of ways to express myself while remaining sensitive to its possible consequences. For about some time now, whenever my friends find themselves saying things that they think offends me, they would warn each other that they should tread carefully lest they find themselves being written about in this blog. I, for one, do not think this remark is remotely funny. It reflects how little they understand the importance of having this blog for me (and probably, my sanity).

This blog is not a weapon to hurt other people. I may bitch about people and things in this blog but I do it to express myself and unburden the emotional baggages that would otherwise drive me insane. The reason might sound selfish but it is true. I have tried to explain this many times but only a handful of them really understood. I am thankful to these people.

So now, I find myself again wondering about something that I cannot answer alone. I do not care much about what other people think of me but there is also a part of me that recognizes its importance if one wants to maintain social interaction and avoid isolation. I realize, bitchy (or bitch) or not, I can only remain true to myself and just, well, f**k the rest. Does this make me a bitch? Fine. People will judge you no matter what anyway. Sadly, being judgmental is an all-too human attribute.

However, being able to rise above it is what makes us truly human beings.

-epilogue-

I took yet another on-line quiz that is related to this particular post and here’s the result. try it, dear reader, it’s fun! 

You Are 52% Bitchy

Generally, you’re an average woman, with average moods. But sometimes… well, watch out! Sometimes, you let your mean side get the better of you. And you enjoy every minute of it.

How Bitchy Are You?