A year later...

Saturday, June 7, was an interesting night.

Thanks to some friends, I was forunate enough to be a part of a gay pride weekend in West Hollywood.
First of all, I love West Hollywood and the Beverly Hills area because those are the places that I've been to a few times and I like the stores there. But not in a million years would I have imagined myself there at 11 p.m. in a crowd of gay people. Another thing to add is that this culture was new to me. Growing up in a community where anything out of the "norm" is rarely accepted or acknowledged, Saturday night was a different night from all the rest

I must also add that I loved it.
But what made me surprised was not the people or the scene-- it was myself.

That night was the same night that my high school had its senior prom. A year ago, I was there too, dressed up nice with my fellow high school peers and enjoying the "best night of my life." We giggled, danced "freaky," had an alcohol-free after party and giggled some more. We took pictures, corsages and all, and joked that the cokes and punches had booze in it.

A year later, I no longer talk to any of those who I had spend that night with (except for Scott, of course). Some of those friendships ended few months later, while some, that I thought were going to be life-long, ended just recently.

A year later, I am in West Hollywood, with new friends of diffrent age and backgrounds, on a gay pride weekend, in a crowd of (some) drunks, covered in the smell of cigarettes, listening to Madonna and with a $5 vodka-with-rasberry-lemonade in my hand at a place that didn't even ask for my ID.

A year ago, the night ended with us playing Cranium 'till dawn, watching Borat and eating chicken nuggets.

A year later, the night ended with watching someone puke its stomach out from her car, a friend dancing on the bed of our truck while it was moving and laughing till I thought I was gonna fall from the window.

One year, and that was the difference.

When I got home, my mom asked what I did there (this is 2008, btw). I told her I had a $5 drink at West Hollywood. I even told her about the things I saw, the people I saw and the non-ID thing.

And she told me that wasn't too bad.

And I thought it wasn't too bad, either.

Maybe it was the drink (since I've realized that my heart reacts funny to drinks), but that morning, as I tossed and turned in bed, I swear my heart was pounding because I was so excited about my life ahead.

If one year can change this much, imagine what 5-year can do.


Some who knew me from a year ago may say that I've changed for the worse.
But I personally like the me that I am today.