Saturday, June 9, 2007

Breakfast At Tiffany's

Exactly a week ago, I watched Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Exactly a week ago, I wrote an article about love, and I ended the essay by quoting my favorite philosopher, Carrie Bradshaw. In the pilot episode of her hit sitcom, Sex and the City, the scene opens to her saying: No one has breakfast at Tiffany’s and no one has affairs to remember. Instead, we have breakfast at 7 AM and we have affairs we try to forget as quickly as possible. And two days later, I met the guy who would force me to rewrite my article, and who would shatter my cynicism in life.

I’ve been dating this guy for three weeks now. I doubt he would be comfortable knowing that his name will be here (he’s in the closet), so from here on, we would leave his name as Q. To all the people who have been religiously reading my blog, I love you guys. Your continuous support has pushed me to express my opinions. And to those people who have been detracting me, I would like to thank you too because you have helped me prove to everyone that my life is far more interesting than the pathetic piece of shit that you call your life. But I don’t want to digress. Q is a xxx student in La Salle, and what can I say about my Q. Bear? He’s intelligent, he’s witty, he’s ambitious, and a little bit on the arrogant side which I find absolutely sexy. He has swept me off my sneaker-clad feet with his charms, his positive influence over me (corny I know, but he’s really turning me into a better man), and his disarming smile that could rival any of the jewels at Tiffany’s. Though Q is extremely cute and he has the brains that can make me come in my head, he is not really the kind of guy I would have pictured to be beside me in the altar. But that was before I had an entire philosophy makeover.

Last night, while having cocktails in Alabang with a family friend (Sophie), I ran into J. There was a bit of the awkward side, but besides that, nothing extremely embarrassing happened. But what happened was, I had a sudden flashback of all the guys I’ve dated and I noticed most of them had a common denominator. And Q didn’t fit any of the physical characteristics I want in a man.

But then I asked myself, so what? Just because my relationship is not what I pictured it to be doesn’t mean that it is not good. Though breakfast at Tiffany’s is fabulous, it’s not realistic. We all want our men to be a la Brad Pitt (Personally I would have picked Antonio Trillanes), but these people are not real. No, I am not saying Brad Pitt is the male replica of Simone (seen that movie?), but my point is, the odds of meeting someone like Brad is equivalent to finding the gold at the end of the rainbow. But I am not saying we should settle for less. Just because Angelina has already snagged that man candy doesn’t mean we should marry that fat slob next door. Why settle for mediocrity when we deserve the best? I dated this one guy (there will be no mention of names to protect the innocent, namely me) and he is what every girl dreams of. A good listener, supportive, gallant. Also, he is there when you need him. Who could refuse? But no matter what he does, regardless of the many bouquets of flowers he gave me, or the thousands of pesos he has spent for me, it really wasn’t going to happen.

People surprise you. Q may not have the height (boy, I love a tall guy), nor the features of a chinito, but he makes me happy. He supports my interests, he accepts me for who I am, and he helps me become the best I can be. What more could I ask for?

Sunday, June 3, 2007


It’s a Saturday night and instead of glamming it up with the buds and hitting the town, I chose to stay at home and lounge the night away. Summer classes were over so I really had no reason to lucubrate. To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t as if I had a choice – I was flat broke. So my Saturday night was spent talking to this guy, Quincy, an interesting character from La Salle.

Anyway, I’ve been active on the current affairs scene (which is both informative and a great conversation piece with guys), and that night, I tuned in to watch XXX, a local show that featured exposes. I actually saw the teaser, which featured an expose on a massage parlor in Paranaque that used breasts and tongues as tools of relaxation. The show featured 3 exposes and what bothered me was not the massage parlor expose (I would have been hooked had they busted on male masseurs) but the first one which focused on a public school in the province that reportedly charged Php 150 as enrollment. Now what made the scene wrong was that public schools should not charge interested enrollees. Free education was provided for the less fortunate and some greedy principal decided to take advantage of the situation by implementing a “No Php 150, no enrollment” policy.

It broke my heart to actually see footage (hidden camera) of a woman begging the principal to allow her 2 children to enroll. Problem is, the woman couldn’t afford to pay the “tuition” so the principal was vehemently denying the kids to be enrolled in the school.

Whether or not her excuse is true - she claims the money was optional and was to be used for insurance and for arrangements for the PTA – I think it’s total bull. When Karen Davila confronted her, she was nervous. It was a sight to behold. I laughed.

I was suddenly ashamed of myself. My closet alone could send the children of an entire barangay to school. Some individual pieces could even send one kid straight to college if the rates were that low. And to think it I only use ¼ of my clothes. I was embarrassed because what seemed to be too much for one woman was too little for me. I suddenly had a vision of last week’s gimmick with Kay and Ysa to Tiananmen Bar, then to Beer’s Paradise, and Government with Arvin where I spent an unmentionable amount on drinks and cab fare – and I felt myself go red in the face.

Yes, it is true it is not my fault that my family can afford to put me and my brother to exclusive schools and have a little bit of leg room for life’s luxuries. My mom has worked hard for our money and although I hate my father, he has been an excellent provider. But these reasons do not justify selfishness. Just because our money was hard earned doesn’t mean I should not give.

I am no philantrophist, and I am definitely no Mother Teresa. I am not going to claim I am going to sell my clothes and donate the money to charity. While I was watching the footage of the woman begging, I wanted to reach out, hold her hand and tell her it’s okay, I’m going to take care of your kids, but I knew I couldn’t, because what could I give? I’m still a student, I am not making any money, and to be honest, I pay more than what I earn.

But what I could do is to give what I can. And that is where you come in. My effort, combined with yours, we can help the less fortunate. Consider yourself blessed that you have a family. You are blessed because you are studying, or you have finished studying. Blessed because there is always food on the table. Not everyone has these privileges. There is no need to keep the blessings to yourself. Please share. You don’t need to donate thousands of pesos to help the world. Loose change will do. There are coinboxes in most stores that cater to various charities and organizations. Please do not confuse them with the tip boxes. Giving alms wouldn’t hurt as well.

A popular song said that children are our future. This is true. Your help will move the mountain that is poverty. You never know who you’re going to save or send to school. He might be the person who will find a cure for AIDS. Or cancer. Won’t we need these kinds of people in the future? Or better yet, he just might be able to revolutionize cosmetic surgery and give you a better nose. Give others a chance. It is only fair.

Unlikely, yes, but what are the odds? He might contribute for the good of mankind, but he might just be like the many Filipinos in the streets - somewhere in Manila, a high school dropout, a raging drunk, a wife beater, with 5 kids.

Life. What a funny thing.
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