"Filipino was a chore, like washing the dishes; it was not the language of learning. It was the language we used to speak to the people who washed our dishes." What a douche bag.
Poor little rich boy can’t speak Filipino and is "forced to relate with the katulongs and tinderas of the country".
I know, I know. This is a democracy. We are all entitled to our own opinions. Still, it’s disappointing to read articles like this that demean our national identity. What’s worse is that it was even written by a Filipino himself.
“I THINK a man begins to lose himself when he forgets he once walked around with holes in his socks. It’s that kind of remembering that keeps us all earthbound, vulnerably human, and vulnerably happy. Frayed socks, empty rice bins, leftovers on the table, second-class movie houses, coffee in cheap restaurants, and so on. Want, or the memory of it, not satiation, keeps our nerve ends sensitive.
And happiness? Life’s innumerable complexities boil down to some cliche, bromidic, ho-hum, but true: money isn’t everything, a friend’s a friend, and God is love. You are what makes you happy—power, pelf, credit cards, custom-made shoes, a doorman’s salute, a hot line to the Palace, but how many of us want nothing more than to lock the doors and close the windows on a cold and rainy night with all the children safely in bed, turn on the radio to listen to an old song and implore the saints to keep love and life safe for a long long time.
Everyone’s trying to write off some ugly memory in his past—breakfastless mornings, jobless days, an untitled past, but if you succeed too well and wipe off everything, you might lose more than you wanted to. The human neck has muscles that one can use to look back; if you look back enough, perhaps it keeps the heart from getting too fibrous.”
I met you on the eve of my 31st birthday which, by the way, was one of the most embarrassing, traumatic and depressing moments of my life.
You were a stranger, a friend of a friend, who happened to see me at a terrible time in my life. So much for first impressions.
I looked right through you. And even when that friend offered me a cake he said you designed for me on my birthday, I was not impressed.
Perhaps I was too depressed that night or preoccupied with gloomy thoughts, I did not think too much of your kindness: A temporary roof over my head, breakfast the day after, and yes that cupcake supposedly turned birthday cake which I hardly took notice of.
It may have been love at first for you, or so they said, but it was definitely not for me.
I have been through so much and falling in love was the farthest thing from my mind.
But as life is as sneaky as I am unprepared. And looking back, I would have turned back that eve of my 31st over and over again if only to relish that event that was about to change my life forever.
And I am grateful for your kindness, gentleness, patience, and understanding that day and for the days, weeks, and months that followed since then.
But I am most thankful for your love.
This is for you who braved flooded waters to bring me home, who sacrificed a day’s bath and an opportunity to work and live abroad to be with me.
You who risked bringing a celfone to work for me.
You who professed his undying love for me in the most adorable and sincerest way possible.
This is for you who made me realize that the four years I spent alone was all worth it. Finally.