Art Dubai and my Big 3 (Part One)

Life is short,

Art long,

Opportunity fleeting,

Experience treacherous,

Judgment difficult.

- Hippocrates, 400BC


I got this quote from  a New York times article i'm reading just now and it fittingly sums up my week and come to think of it,  my 3 years in Dubai.

I've been too busy past few days that I forgot about my "Coming to Dubai" anniversary. March 15. Its official, I've been in Desert City for 3 years, and yes, I've been mostly away from home for 3 years. If I stayed in my first job, i wouldve finished my contract by now, but thankfully God had other plans.

The decision to come here was a one-eye-open-jump-off-the cliff kind-of-thing. You know one of those moments where you really just decide to drop all inhibitions and just TAKE A CHANCE, because something inside tells you if you don't do it, you'll never know and you'll be left wondering, and boy, am I glad I did.

Three years ago i took that leap and now I'd say I'm finally in the water floating free.


Life is short. Opportunity Fleeting, and though you do get a lot of chances to get it right, the opportunities are never the same, and if you don't take the high road, and take a risk you could be missing out on something really special or even life-changing.


Experience Treacherous, Judgement Difficult. Dubai is not the easiest foreign city to live in, especially if you've been raised in Asian-meets-Catholic values and predominantly Western ideals of Freedom, and where you can get away with much of everything if you know how. When i first came here, I pretty much had to let go of most of my previous self, my old experiences, and reserve most of my judgements until i learned ropes.

Life is short. Art long. For what is Art but the imitation of life, and vice versa, a certain truth, and a way of looking at things differently. This week Dubai was alive with Art, and despite the fact that the city hides a dangerous ugly dungeon, it gave me the unique opportunity to reconnect with Art, and eventually brought me back to myself. Only this time, I am a different person looking at another angle, recognizing parts of myself and seeing that my life's painting has a lot more to offer now.

I am the same but not the same, and this week has been pivotal to that change. 


MONDAY :  

5pm Monday - Dubai Mall :

I found myself in Dubai Mall with some spare time, and as an old habit, whenever I find myself in the mall with time to kill, I go to the bookstore. It's been a while since i let myself wander around books, i took some to read, and lo and behold at the far end of the bookstore, behind the Manga section, I found a Japanese coffeeshop overlooking the famous Dubai fountain.

If there's one thing in Dubai ill never get tired of seeing it is this fountain. I order cappucinno, four Japanese women walk in, a grandma, her 30something daughter, her 20-something young niece and a 2-year old little girl. They sit in front of me and the fountain show starts. For a moment there, it felt like I was sitting at the border between two worlds - asian-Japan and the the very Vegas-inspired Dubai Fountain, and that the Universe or God is trying to tell me a secret.

I take out my Muji notebook and I'm writing again, the traditional way, with Pen and Paper. The return of the Familiar. "Welcome back" - i whispered silently to myself. My Blackberry phone dies before i could share the moment. Just as it should.


7pm, Monday - Armani Hotel  : 

My photographer friend calls me out on my reverie and I go with her to the much-hyped Armani Hotel, where she had to take some photos of some high-end Art exhibit. As expected, high-end art was nowhere near real art, so she went to work taking photos of people who were mostly there for the Champagne and prestige. I wandered off to check out the so-called art, only to find a pixelated hundred dirham bill stuck in a gold frame, with a 22,000aed price tag. "Yes, Dorothy, you are still in Dubai" - I whispered to myself.

At that point I lost interest in Armani art, got myself a glass of free champagne, sat on a corner and people-watched. My friend comes back after 15minutes, she's done taking photos, and dying for a cigarette. We went to the overpriced veranda of the Armani Hotel to watch the Fountain again. And while smoking i decided to ask her about the incredibly story of how she met the rock icon Karl Roy, who died on Sunday. Her story was larger than life, like Karl and it blew me away. It was a story that made me think about chances. There on the Armani balcony, I hear a true-to-life story about Taking chances, more importantly Taking a chance on people and giving people a chance. How a small thing can change one person's life, and eventually make a difference in the world. A Stone picked up and thrown in the river creating ripples.

Almost Famous: Brutal Grace, my friend-photographer, got her first big break because she was a fan of Karl Roy and then Karl Roy became his fan, and their lives we're never the same again. 

It was then I realized that your life is not entirely yours, like how a painting or anything created out of nowhere becomes a part of the collective world and now has the potential to affect the next person that you come across - and because of this one should never, if he can help it, put a pixelated Hundred Dirham painting on a Gold canvass and call it Art. Karl Roy never did. God bless your soul Karl.


9PM, Monday - DIFC: 

To shake away the Armani Art exhibit let down, My friend and I decided to get a dose of some real art and headed to, well the Dubai Financial Center, the hub of decent art galleries in Dubai. Of course, money brings the best art to the region, and art without the means, well, it is good but sad. So DIFC galleries at least had more real art to showcase and the crowd was much more eclectic. I cannot go as far as say authentic, but for what its worth the crowd had character.

We meet a young famous artist - Sacha Jafri, who had an exhibit filled with doodles he'd done with special ed kids. These were very good doodles with good messages for a good cause. He was a fan of Kafka, and one of his drawings had a cassette tape that says SideA-Side B. Of course, we fell in love with him.

We stayed till the everybody left coz the art vibe was really getting to us and it was a good feeling. Then, when you least expect it magic happens. A take-away moment, mostly for my friend, but i was happy to be there.

Sacha comes out of his gallery tired, and sits with us for a while. He said he's been mostly travelling, London, New York. I, mere consumer of art, sit there comfortably with the maker, chat and drink a bit, thinking that  this guy is possibly a toast in his circle. It doesn''t matter, at that moment he was like any other guy. At that moment we were on the same playing field. Such is the charm Dubai, chance meetings are extraordinarily ordinary.

*End of Part 1*

to be continued.












 

Define Love

 So its that day again in February, and normally, I would let this day go by like any other day, except that this time I’m around I feel the urge to finally discuss it.

LOVE.

Photo taken at Mt. Tapyas, Coron, Palawan, Philippines (while climbing 724 steps to the Summit) 

I have spent most of my younger days pining for it, and most of my adult life trying to understand it that being single and in my 30s, things do seem a lot clearer now, and I am finally getting a good grasp of this thing, of what this so-called madness is all about.

After millions of pop songs, chapters and volumes of books, short stories, poems, movies, TV series, and countless hours spent with friends whining, crying, ranting, gushing over, getting over guy after guy after guy, (or girl after girl –in the case of my male and lesbian friends).  I think I am finally getting the drift.

And its not about chocolates, chuahua dogs, Shakespeare sonnets, or silly love songs. I don’t believe that Cupid or his arrow has much to do with it.  

Its not about movie dates, or liking the same bands, or obsessing over the same hobbies.

Its not about wedding gowns, or romantic getaways, hell, its not even about marriage proposals or destiny, although a lot of people will probably contradict me for this.

Its not about French kisses or Sex, good or bad, long, short, hot, warm or lukewarm, although these could actually be grounds for divorce, and I do know how sex is a significant part of a relationship, but its just not LOVE.

I’ve seen Love. I’ve touched and felt it, I still believe in it, and What I know is this  -

That LOVE is a CHOICE. A choice you make everyday, a choice that keeps defining your relationship with another person who is important to you. And by important, I mean the one you’ve chosen to give that VIP badge or that backstage pass to your life to. The person you can be yourself with, no matter how difficult you or he/she can become. The one you would not think twice about growing old with.

After a certain age, you realize that its not just a matter of being there for someone anymore, but being there WHEN IT MATTERS. Being there when it is difficult. Being there despite of or inspite of. And being there, even when you can’t actually “be there”.

After a certain age, you realize that LOVE is not stupid or blind, that it is in fact the smartest thing, the missing piece, the answer to the big riddle.

It opens up a world of possibilities and wakes you up to the reality of how it made a great deal of sense to be with this person, or how sometimes it was really the only thing that made any kind of sense at all.

It is not complicated or mysterious, because if it is, then it isn’t Love just yet. Love is simple. Love is clear-cut. It tells you where you should be and where you want to be in the next 10, 20, 30 years or even the next 3minutes. 

 Love is dedication, Love is commitment, Love is responsibility.

It is often times setting aside your own personal needs to give someone the best of you and the best that you can offer, because you want them to become better people. This is exactly why my parents, despite their limited capacities chose to send us to good (expensive) schools.  This is exactly why Jesus chose to die a gory death. He loved us enough to want us to become better people. Simple as that.

Like when you say you love your job or whatever it is you do, whether you are salesman, an artist, a writer, a basketball player, you are committed to it, you will not let a slip up if you can help it, you will not stop until you get it right,  until you’ve done everything you could. Love doesn’t give up easily. Love works harder at it and finds a way to make it work.

Love is trust. Love is respect. Love is friendship.

Hachiko, the Akita dog who has a statue in Shibuya, Japan. He is  remembered for his remarkable loyalty to his owner, even many years after his owner's death.    

Think about your best buddy, your good trusted friend, the one you respect highly above all, would you cheat on her/him? Would you hit her/him?  Would you stop listening to them? Would you stop caring?

If you are a normal honest person who has genuine relationships you would try your best to never do anything to break a good friend’s trust, and you will always aspire to get their respect - that, my friend, is Love. 

Also, its important to remember, that Love is FREE and it is given in abundance. So never buy, ask, beg, borrow, or steal it. Hatred has its ifs and buts, Lust has its conditions. Love just gives. Give and receive it freely without pride, without hesitation, without money involved.

Love spotted on display at Opera Gallery, Dubai International Financial Center, on the eve of Valentines 2012

 Love is hope. Love is faith. Love is kindness.

It is having something or someone to hold on to when the road gets dark and slippery. It is believing that someone waits with open arms at the end of the road, the train station, the airport at 3am, or at the dinner table at home. It’s the sound of a tired sleepy voice still saying “hello”and asking- how was your day?” after you’ve kept them waiting on a long busy day.  It is the embrace of forgiveness. It is the Lighthouse. 

The giant Cross awaits and welcomes everyone at the summit of Mt. Tapyas, after 724 steps. Lighted up at night, it also serves as a ''lighthouse" so sailing ships (often  with tourists) can find their way back home. 

Life is tough, Relationships are hard but Love, when its real, it comes easy and It SAVES. 

So if you ever  find yourself struggling, choking, drowning in it with no one to save you, then maybe its time to reconsider your options. It doesn’t matter how brief or how long the affair is, it doesn’t matter how much you’ve got invested in, if it isn’t Saving you, or at least making an effort to, then maybe its not worth Saving, and maybe its time to move on and Love yourself a little a bit more. Remember that the choice is always yours to make.

Sure, there are instances that will make you think twice or thrice or a hundred times about loving someone, there will be unforeseen circumstances, force majure,  maybe the timing isn’t right, maybe you are caught unprepared, maybe there’s no easy way out of a situation, maybe he doesn’t have enough money, maybe his mom doesn’t like you, maybe she doesn't live in your city, maybe she smokes too much,  the maybes are endless...but going back to my first point, it is a CHOICE, and one that you''re gonna have to stand by and keep making. 

So this Valentines day, 

I wish you Love,

 which is to say -

I wish you the Courage to make your choices,

The Wisdom to make the –right-choices

the Strength to stick by your choices,

and above all, that you would find genuine, lasting HAPPINESS 

in all the choices you've made and continue to make.

I wish you Love.

Happy Valentines day!

Words and photos by Kristine Abante
(except for Hachiko Statue and Lloyd Dobbler from the movie Say Anything)
Illustrations from The Little Prince

Written in Dubai, UAE on the 10th February 2012

Ramadan.

The thirty days of fasting is almost over, supposedly 30 days of quiet reflection and repression of human desires. I am not muslim so I can only be outside looking in, yet without a choice I also find myself wandering at the heart of this tradition.

They say that people are kinder, more peaceful, more forgiving  more generous around here in the Arab world at this time the year but sadly the bloodshed continue, the prejudice continue, the ignorance continue and selfish desires continue.

For what good is prayer if one doesn’t know compassion or humanity. What good is prayer to people to who have a vague idea about love or whose idea of Love is between the legs, empty romantic messages sneaked in on midnight, Teddy Bears on a 24-7 grocery store. 

The tale of the tower of Babel is true, people have grown up with so much prejudice and hate for one another that they have been punished to speak in alien tounges,  vaguely understanding each other, so they end up criticising what they don’t understand.

The truth is, its not just the Arab world. Look at Norway. Turned out your Average Blonde Guy had it in him to be the next Hitler, or you don’t have to go very far, I’m sure there are enough average people around you who think they are better simply because they were born of a certain race.

In this quiet month, I’ve been asking myself, why can’t people get along nowadays? Why can’t we be kinder to each other?  Why can’t we mean what we say and say what mean? Why is it so hard to appreciate each other?  Why is it so hard to CARE?

Kindness costs nothing yet we are willing to pay the price for sloth, selfishness, vanity and greed.

Seriously, what is the use of fasting, if we cannot give even just a little to those who are dying of Hunger, not just physical but emotional and spiritual.

Somebody would come in and say the world is not my problem. But let me ask you, what do you think about when you look at the Moon? Or the Sunset ? or the Sea?  Or when you close your eyes to sleep?

Aren’t we all just looking at the same thing from another angle? Aren’t we all just breathing the same air?

I’m not trying to point fingers, obviously I have my own failings and weaknesses, but merely stating observations.  The world is increasingly breeding a population full of self-obsessed , self-patronizing, socially inept individuals recording, tweeting away their lives every 5 seconds.

In fact I am beginning to think my niceness has come to point where it is becoming a liability and that I am now thinking about being selfish and rude like everyone else - Become UNAVAILABLE. But then again what good would it do to become another selfish person?

I am not perfect, I am merely alarmed at what we all are turning out to be. Everyone is suffering. We will all burn in hell. 

Ramadan.  Really what for?

 

Dubai – 2 years and counting

(on the road, photo taken from my lomocam, march 2009)

March 15 2009 --- I packed my bags  and journeyed 4000 miles or so into the unknown. I just quit my job (which after almost 5 years became -quite literally- my life) two days back, left loving friends and family in a daze, that it all seemed unreal to me and to them.  I  wasn’t scared, I wasn’t that sad, or you know how it feels when you feel too much, you stop feeling anything that you just want it done and over with.

After few hours on the plane (and several glasses of white wine), I caught myself crying non-stop. As if  I was grieving the loss of my old life, and the fact that It will be a very long year before I can ever see the people that I loved the most again, and even then I just know it will never be the same.  So I cried my eyes out on the plane that by the time we landed I was somewhat relieved, cleansed by all things past and managed to find enough courage to move on to the next big adventure.

I am not gonna go into details of what happened next, but suffice to say that after 2 years of living here as an expat I have seen , done and gone through a lot things that I would probably never would have thought of if I was still in my sheltered cocoon in Manila. They’re not all good, they’re not all bad, but I am happy and proud to say that I have officially no regrets.

They say there is no better teacher than experience and I found this to be true in all aspects. Living in Dubai – 2 years and counting, is where I've learned some of the most important life lessons :

1. To be a woman, realize what it really means , and learn what it takes to be one.  It is tough to be a woman in a country where people have a different view of women in general , Asians & Filipinas in particular. I have said this before, and I'lll say it again, I have met so many fascinating, inspiring, strong, independent, talented beautiful (inside out) pinays out here, that knowing them actually made me a better person.  Their lives, their experiences....I have just met a woman who at 37 has been jailed in Saudi, almost died in drunken car accident in Dubai, her sea sailing husband has left her with 2 kids and no kind of support, yet she surfaced strong and vibrant with  a cute flower tattoo on her  knee to show, and that’s just one person.  If after 2 years or so in the Middle East and you haven’t learned to be a proper woman, I’d say you’re either very dense or very dependent or both.

2. To be a Fiipino and learn to  appreciate my country and my countrymen.  Living away from home made me realize what I love most about the Philippines and what I admire most of about Filipinos –resiliency, resourcefulness and positivity.  The best traits of a fighter.  

Of course when you love someone its like you're seeing them for the first time and you also find the worst in the them, but the good thing is you now have that desire to make it better, by avoiding the same pitfalls.

I was just talking to a French friend the other night and here’s what she had to say – that she found her Filipino workmates very easy to get along with, always happy and smiling, they work hard, but the only bad trait is that they chit-chat too much. Chizmiz, the buzz, you tell them one thing and the next minute everyone will know. Its really sad, but its something we can’t deny.

Chismis (gossip) is our ultimate downfall. Pinoys like to talk, and when they do they talk about other people, I am guilty of this sometimes, but I am proud to say that have successfully managed to control this thanks to the help good friends who feed my thirst for sensible and enlightening conversations .  So please the next time you’re with someone you just met, pinoy or otherwise, please try to think of something else to say other than “may boyfriend ka na?” or “when was your last relationship?”. Really its lame.

3. To Love more and judge less. Love is the simple solution to most things, but unfortunately because we are vain and blinded by self-love we do not see that we are all connected, we are different but we are the same. I’ve met so many different nationalities, so many different,  annoying quirks and the trick is just to find the thing that makes them tick and from there build your understanding of them. I am hardly ever the best in this, I am still judgemental in a lot of ways (I blame it on being Pinoy) , but the thing is now, I try harder.

4. To believe in music more so than I ever did before. Its true, music is the language that connects us all. Its my lifeblood. it fuels me, it defines me and I am better person today because of it. It has helped me relate to others better. Truth be told, I would not have survived Dubai if not for my Ipod. When there’s nothing else, find your song and play it loud.

5. To find God. I found that in your darkest days, when there’s really no one else, when there’s nothing or no one to hang on to, not even yourself, He is there and whatever happens happens for a reason. I found that life is only meaningless if you think that everything happens at random, If you don’t look up to something bigger than yourself. 

Now Religion  is something else, people make it complicated, to a point where you only see their politics but not the Truth. I have found that my devotion should not be ruled by what these people have got to say. My relationship with God is my own and as long as I have faith, let the self-righteous be damned.

Also, that i may not like the Church or the congregation so much, but I like being Catholic. Its good to know that I made that choice for myself and not by anybody else.

6. Lastly, I learned to appreciate and respect myself more. I learned my worth as a person and that I don’t need to settle for loose change from people. You teach people how to treat you, so you don’t let them get away with treating you like crap. Anywhich way, I say,  Whatever, I am fabulous and its their loss, bwahahaha

So there you go 2 years and counting. Pretty heavy stuff, I doubt if I’d have come face to face with all this things if I didn’t leave the comfort zone. If you managed to get this far, thanks for reading. I highly-recommend jumping off the cliff to the unknown. Its not safe but hey - You live, You learn. 

People power – 25 years and counting

I woke up on Saturday morning from a strange dream - that I hopped on a taxi in Dubai and then suddenly forced to board the “Bicol Express”, you know that old tram that runs from Paco to Bicol, then taken off to a dingy clinic in a rural town in the Philippines to get immunity shots for an unidentified virus that deletes memory.

The People Power Revolution (also known as the EDSA Revolution, the Philippine Revolution of 1986) was a series of popular demonstrations in the Philippines that began in 1983 and culminated in 1986. This case of  non-violent revolution led to the departure of President Ferdinand Marcos and the restoration of the country's democracy.

Feeling strange, I did not realize what all of this meant until I sat down to check what my friends 8000 miles away are up to, only to come across a youtube video of the Coca cola Happiness truck moving around Marikina giving out sweet little things, roses, coke, pogo sticks, folding chairs and teddy bears.

I started the year caught up with "Dubai’’, the parties, the clubs, the arena concerts, the shopping festival, Friday brunches,  shimmery eye makeup  -  sparkling, extravagant, often exaggerated- Dubai, and it left me setting the bar higher, wanting more and more things for myself and my family.

Seeing the Coke truck move around Marikina was like a shot in the arm. Memories came flooding back, of happy summers spent with friends, eating fishballs and drinking coke from a plastic bag. The dream was real. The video reminded me of simple joys back home and how, considering all the shit that’s going on, pinoys are really some of the coolest people you’ll ever find in the world, cheesy sentimentality aside.

The rest of my afternoon was spent watching this brilliant BBC documentary where a London Bus Driver tackles on the task of a Jeepney driver in the Toughest Place to Drive on Earth - Manila . It turned out to be more than just a story of taking on a dare, but an accurate portrayal of our lives as Pinoys, which can all be summed up in one word – STRUGGLE.

If you look at it from a foreigner’s perspective, what Pinoys consider as norm, to them is a great Injustice. Yet we remain cheerful, persevering, resilient, rolling along the punches and bearing our crosses with the tough determination of a jeepney driver or a boxer.

 To foreign eyes, we were handed Lemons, to us these Lemons are better than nothing and you just gotta find a way to survive.  We spent 1000 hours stuck in a traffic jam every year, but there’s nothing else we can do but grin and bear it. So when a red truck pulls up in the neighbourhood to hand out free soda we can’t help but smile. What joy, what relief it must be to be given something you didn’t particularly had to work hard for.   

It is no wonder why the Philippines stop for Manny Pacquiao.  It is no wonder we proudly claim every talented pinoy singer who makes it big abroad.  It is no wonder we put  on 3stars-and-a sun stickers on our cars, or wear poloshirts with the Philippines map on it.

We are all in desperate need of heroes and the slightest signs of hope for a country that seems to have already been taken to the dogs.  Living in the Philippines or having a family in the Philippines, meant being in a life-long Survivor Challenge that you just feel you earned the right to wear a shirt for it, to celebrate your sacrifices.

At the wake of 25 years anniversary of the EDSA revolution, where the world first got a glimpse of how truly great we are, it seemed to me we all need a shot in the arm for a virus that is spreading quickly - erasing everything we learned, everything we stood for, everything we had been fighting for.  

Twenty five years and we have nothing much to show.  In the BBC documentary, Rogelio the Jeepney driver speaks about his frustration, how no matter how hard he works everyday his circumstance never change, on the other hand the fithy rich become richer and filthier.

Somewhere along the way those of us who have found better lives, those of us who were lucky enough to get a taste of sparkling, extravagant, exaggerated good life,  somewhere along the way we forgot that we have been handed a responsibility, a responsibility that is rooted in the faith that we have all been raised to believe - to love one another as much as you love yourself.

25 years and we have nothing show. Its easy to point fingers, to complain, to throw in the towel, take your family and leave, but we all seem to have forgotten that 25 years ago we had the courage and capability to take it into our own hands, to stick the finger to the man and get what we wanted.

I realize I am just one person, but if by pouring my brains and heart out to people who would listen would help me inspire others to go D-I-Y and pay it forward then maybe I can make a dent. Maybe its time we stop complaining and just do what we can to help, in whatever way. 

We may have limited resources,  we may come from different backgrounds, records show there is strength in numbers. Maybe its time we stop thinking of  People Power as Marcos vs. Aquino thing, Red vs. Yellow, and stop debating whether the ex-president should get a heroes burial. He’s dead anyway. We 80million strong are not. 

I am sorry for the long post, and if you are still with me, thank you for taking the time.

I realize that me and my peers are now in that stage of our lives where we are actually capable of doing something, but if we let it die, the dream will die with us. I don’t want to forget, I don’t want to give up without trying and I believe there are others out there like me who just need a shot in the arm to remember how really, uberly cool it is to be Pinoy, cheesy sentimentality aside.

Happiness in 3 Gulps

the smallest coke you'll ever find, and its in arabic.

Stranger than Fiction (a slumdog spoiler)

“Either our lives become stories, or there’s no just way to get through them..”-Generation X, Douglas Adams

It’s the first of March, and today I’m gonna have to officially start packing. While I rummage through the clutter of books, dvds, cds old magazines collected over the years, I realize how thousands upon thousands of “stories” fill up my little hole in the universe.

Paperback fiction, hardbound biographies, 3-minute songs, full length albums, 20-in-1 pirated dvds, 4x4 lomo photos on the wall, old issues of Rolling Stones, Pulp, Giant,Vouge and Cosmo ..so many stories…too little time.


I don’t know what would happen if the world didn’t have stories to tell, not that its even possible. I mean even our cavemen ancestors had to draw pictures on the wall, eventually they learned language and came up with a story about gods, then they learned to sing praises and dance rituals..and look how far we’ve come.

Now we now have god-knows how many religions, singers are discovered out of youtube and Beyonce’s Sasha Fierce had us all dancing to Single Ladies. Coldplay ruled the Grammy’s. Slumdog ruled the Oscars. Sarah G. ruled the Myx awards and a 10-year old boy eating a sandwich gets runover at the parking lot of the Ateneo while his yaya watched in horror. (this last bit almost had me in tears, truth is stranger than fiction)

Dunno about you but for me Coldplay is so 2000. Frankly I think they should have won the grammy’s for some other song like The Scientist or even Yellow.

Slumdog..well I watched it. I’ve also seen Trainspotting in the 90s. The going inside the toilet - “malabanan” scene is nothing new. In fact the scene in Trainspotting when drug-addled Renton shits on the bedsheet of his girlfriend and then unleashes it at her folks’ at the breakfast table is the more Oscar-worthy shit from Danny Boyle.

“Who wants to be a millionare” is also old, even Kris Aquino has moved on. If they made a film about the Wowowee stampede or the 300-million lotto in the Philippines, they would have had better material that screamed “desperation”. But then again it probably couldn’t end with a kiss and a bollywood number.

Salim, the corrupted bestfriend of the pure romantic Jamal who only wants to be with the girl of his dreams Latika…well they’re ok..but there’s a better movie like this with more blood, more character and more truth..ever heard of City of God?

I like Danny Boyle, he’s great at storytelling, he should have won for Trainspotting back in the day, but that wouldn’t be too politically correct because..the movie dealt with drugs and “choosing your life”

On the other hand, I’ve seen Milk. The true story of Human Rights activist and first openly gay public official Harvey Milk. Sean Penn deserves every bit of that Oscar. It deserves Best Screenplay. Its not just about gays fighting for their rights, its about people who are different resisting the flow, a revolution, scream-for-your-life Punk Rock. And it’s a real-life story that doesn’t end with a kiss and dancing.

Then again, Oscar was never a fan of punk rock. I guess he’s into classy stuff …and who knew he had a thing for Bollywood? Milk, a story about marching the streets screaming for your rights, isn’t exactly a good example. Why do you think they pick Jose Rizal over Ka Andres?

Anyhoo, so I’m packing the stories, those that I’ve read, seen or heard, and those that I’ve experienced in real life with an amazing cast of characters.

Stories shared over lunch, over drinks, over coffee, over the noise of a crowded gig...swapped over a smoke or on the way home, or exchanged quietly through YM, Facebook and Multiply…all of them…great stories..maybe not Oscar, Grammy or Palanca worthy but they make up my life and they fill a little hole in my universe.

And then there are still many I haven’t started with. Too many stories…too little time.



Ps. If my life was a Hollywood movie..I swear..it would have had its happy Slumdog ending by now…modesty aside..ahem.. i’ve had some great cinematic twists..even great dialogue..interesting characters…cool soundtrack…the ingredients are all there…ok not oscar-worthy, but more of cool-cult-classic – Say Anything/Pretty in Pink type….Too bad real life is longer and God sucks at casting.