The Cove: A Slaughter in the Ocean

This is not an easy post to write. I had to watch it again. And I almost didn’t want to because I had to recall the haunting images again and put into words what I saw. To tell you about this bloody massacre.  And I admit, I put it off for a while, meandered a bit because it was wrenching. I love dolphins just as I love the ocean and I am quite disturbed by the images of its slaughter in Taiji. Sadly, it is still happening today. Because even if the documentary won an Oscar in 2010 and viewed by the world, the Japanese fishermen are still capturing and killing dolphins in Taiji.

The Cove is a documentary directed by Louis Psihoyos, one of the founders of the Oceanic Preservation Society. Together with Rick’O Barry, the trainer of the series Flipper they covertly filmed dolphin killings in a cove in Taiji.

Rick O’ Barry became a famous dolphin trainer in the 1960s because of Flipper, a show about the adventures of a dolphin. And after Flipper, he became an activist, letting out dolphins out of cages and protesting dolphin shows. According to him, the turning point had been watching “Cathy” one of the dolphins who played Flipper commit “suicide” in his arms. Not faring well in captivity, she decided not to take her next breath and sink in the bottom.

Dolphins are not only intelligent creatures but freedom loving. They love surfing on the waves and swimming freely in front of ships. One surfer claims a connection with these freedom-loving animals and even had a dolphin save him from a tiger shark. Dolphins are also acoustic creatures and uses sonar ability to catch their prey. Sonar is the ability to locate an object by bouncing off soundwaves. So in captivity, with sounds bouncing off glass walls surrounding them and cheers from people, the dolphins become distressed. They develop ulcers and are regularly given medicine–injected food to counteract this ailment.

Activists like O’Barry have been put to jail protecting these creatures and some have died for it. But even if going to jail had been part of his life,  O’Barry seems to be bent on trying to undo the harm that befell these creatures due to the popularity of Flipper. Watching him, I can sense the guilt that still plagued him because the show’s popularity gave rise to more dolphins shows and more dolphin captures.

According to the documentary, Taiji is the largest supplier of dolphins to marine parks and swim with dolphin programs around the world. Maybe that’s why fishermen and local officials of Taiji continue to block any attempt of filming.  And this is why the crew had to resort to covert means.

The director assembled a special team to help him in his endeavor, his “Ocean’s 11” and this includes ex-military, special effects guys, free divers and other daring individuals willing to help him. They made plans to infiltrate the cove which was dangerous because they are already being followed by the police. Because if you are with Ric O’Barry, a well-known activist, something is always up.

But before they finally saw what happened inside the cove, they had to dangerously set up HD cameras disguised as rocks in the middle of the night,  also using thermal cameras to see if anybody’s watching  them while the free divers set up hydrophones in dark waters with waves furiously breaking on the surf.

These individuals didn’t need to put themselves in danger because if caught they can be put to jail for 28 days. They came there to use their talents for a good cause, to let the world know what is happening to the dolphins of Taiji. So they had cellphones with the number of the US embassy inside their pockets just in case.

And then they saw it.

The boats with long rods poised to the ocean floor with fishermen hammering on it, using the dolphins’ sonar ability against the species, creating a wall of sound to confuse them.

The dolphins are then corralled near the cove, trapped in nets.

Then the next day the dolphins for marine shows are picked, usually young females. The others are then killed even the mothers with their calves. Their meat is sold to supermarkets in Taiji and in other cities.

It was bloody. Horrific, like watching a dolphin genocide.

To think that dolphins should also be protected like whales because they are both covered by the IWC (International Whaling Commission) because they are both cetaceans. But the whales are in trouble themselves. The IWC can’t even stop their slaughter by Japanese whalers because of Japan’s strong presence in the body, a country that seems to resort to bribing smaller Carribean countries to question IWC’s whaling ban and claim that their whale killings are for research. Given this, smaller cetaceans like the dolphins has become the least part of IWC’s agenda.

It’s been three years and The Cove has won an Oscar. But the dolphin slaughter is still happening. Though I know the awareness have increased and more people want to help in stopping it. It’s still not enough. In Sea Shepherd’s website, there are group of volunteers who acts as Cove Guardians (http://www.seashepherd.org/cove-guardians/). They try to intervene but there is so much they can do. And they appeal us to write to some people in Japan to help them stop this. (I'm going to write one of these days).

Maybe together, we can stop them from killing these magnificent and intelligent creatures. We can stop the gruesome murders of these innocent animals that have continually marveled us with their intelligence, empathy, playfulness and joy. Because should the tradition of one country be strong enough excuse to kill these creatures? Or the money acquired for them warrants the reason to almost decimate them?

I have watched this and I can’t forget it. I may not be there physically protecting the dolphins in Taiji but I want my voice to be heard. To cry out in protest and have these words flow out in anger and sadness, to wail and grieve for all the dolphin blood spilled in the ocean.

The Whale Warriors by Peter Heller: An Account of Audacity

What better way to end a literary heartbreak than finishing a book about audacity, the audacity to stand up for what one believes in and in this case wage war on a group’s twisted reasoning, individuals unabashedly violating international laws. Clearly, this writing of Peter Heller was shaped to inform and educate, a bold attempt to let the public know about the pitiful plight of these endangered animals.

Recently, I realized that writing should be more than impressing a few credentialed people or striving for accolades that are corrupted with patronage, or hitting millions of hits in a blog, writing should also move people and ignite them into action. This piece may not be rimmed with high-falutin prose but these words, paragraphs are forged with passion. It is my contribution to a cause that is dear to me, the ocean and the animals in it.

I love the ocean.  I love its vastness, its mystery, it unpredictability. But I hate the way people are corrupting it and killing thousands of helpless animals who have no way defending themselves. We are stewards of nature not its destroyer.

And this is why this book appealed to me. It is a book about a group of foolhardy individuals, volunteers, chasing after Japanese whalers in the cold ocean of Antartica. This book informs us on the state of our oceans and the sea animals being killed mercilessly.

This book was probably written before the Whale Wars series on cable, where a television crew films the Sea Shepherd ship as it goes after Japanese whalers. It is the account of Peter Heller, a journalist on board of Sea Shepherd’s Conservation Society's flagship  in 2005, the Farley Mowat. Here, he talks about the life in the ship as they searched for whalers like the Nisshin Mahru and their bristling relationship with Greenpeace and the press.

The lead character on the ship, Farley Mowat is its captain, Paul Watson, one of the co-founders of Greenpeace. He is an avid environmentalist and reputed to have sunk whaling ships in different countries. He is not afraid to ram his puny but feisty ship on a bigger ship like the Japanese Nisshin Maru. Heller even witnessed that it wasn’t all talk.  

On Christmas Day, 2005, Watson was poised in ramming the Nisshin Mahru, good thing the Japanese whaler turned. Heller called it Antartic chicken. Watson didn’t even blink. Farley Mowat could have broken in half if they collided with the monstrous ship. But despite this almost foolhardy stunt, this group generally don't use weapons to stop the whalers. They only use prop foulers to disable the ships and throw foul gas to disorient the crew so the Japanese can leave the whales alone. No guns, no armed machinery, just simple water hose in an ocean battle and a seven foot blade in its bow to damage the hull of another ship.

The ocean with its beauty can be dangerous and playing cat and mouse game in the vastness of it is quite a gamble, and playing it in the ocean of Antartica sounds almost insane.  The author talked about the constant seasickness, the gales that buffered the ship, the tenacity and creativity of the members of Farley Mowat and the intense focus of its captain, Paul Watson in saving these animals.

And I like this story of audacity. In a world where everyone wants to be part of the horde, having this kind of bravado is refreshing. The audacity that asks, questions, spurs debate and pursues change. With the world consisting mainly of ocean, why does a limited number of people act to protect the ocean like the Sea Shepherd who rides out storms and actively hunts these illegal whalers? Why does some environmental groups bring out only banners or paint the whaler ships while the whales are being killed in their midst? As witnesses of these ongoing atrocity, why don't they stop it?

While I don’t condone the ramming of whaler ships, I do believe that one has the responsibility to defend those who can’t protect themselves, in this case, the whales. They may not be part the human race but they are part of the ecosystem we live in. We are all interdependent. If they become extinct, it may throw off the balance of nature that may result to dire natural consequences. Why the need to decimate them? Why does the Japanese need to hunt and kill them? And why do the Japanese need to defy international laws prohibiting commercial whaling and use smaller countries to further their cause by bribing them to vote in lifting the moratorium on commercial whaling. That’s just sick.

This book has been a real eye-opener to me and I hope it would open your eyes too. Here are some excerpts:

“How can they kill these creatures? She asked. The earth is 75 percent ocean. Why is this the only ship out on the ocean enforcing environmental laws? One ship protecting the ocean?”

“Casson believed, along with many of his marine biologist colleagues, that the oceans are on the verge of total ecosystem collapse…The World Wildlife Fund recently announced that the world’s fish stocks are on the verge of extinction. All of the world’s fish. Right now, half of the world’s coral reefs are dead or dying.”

“If the oceans die, we die too…much of the destruction is caused by bottom trawlers, the industrial dragnets that scour and scrape wide swaths of sea floor, taking everything-the octupuses, the sea turtles, the mammals, the crabs, the urchins- and damaging the reefs…nets are dragged in and the target species are thrown into the hold, while all the rest are chucked overboard, dead or dying. Wasted”

“…Fourth shot hits her in the flank. Explosion and fountain of blood. Whale thrashing. Cable winch engaged, thrashing, screaming whale reeled in, gushing blood, turning the sea red…Electrocution current now coursing through the new spear. Whale in bloody agony…Finally hauled tail up, suspended so they can hold her breathing hole under. She drowns after fifteen more minutes in a sea of her own blood”

Heller also witnessed the dolphin slaughter in Taiji, Japan. He worked with crew of the Oscar award winner documentary, The Cove. I will be writing about the documentary on my next post. 

Heartbreak and Rogue magazine April 2012 (Katrina Stuart Santiago's article)

I am heartbroken. It’s over. He doesn’t love me anymore. After all we've been through, he decides he wants to move on. After leaving me dangling for a while he finally decides to leave. Okay, it’s not a guy I’m talking here. But it feels the same. It’s about a story that was rejected by an editor for an anthology.

It ended with a sugarcoated e-mail. I was tempted to answer with, “Though I was saddened that I wasn’t picked,...” . I didn’t. I decided to do a Karylle when Dingdong dumped him for someone. I tried to reply with class and exude nonchalance, so I wrote a polite thank you and wished them well, even if I was silently devastated.

I had stories rejected in the past and I had some essays published. But I don’t remember the published ones anymore. I only remember the silence that followed after laboring on my first piece of short story that I courageously submitted in the only remaining literary magazine in the country that is still in print. I browsed in the bookstore every week to see if my story was published but few weeks passed but nothing came up. Then I scrutinized every story that made the cut, observed their impressive eloquence and mind-rending descriptions and I knew my pitiful story won’t see the light of day.

Just the fact that I deeply labored  on it and was rejected was crushing. I didn’t cry copious tears and tore my hair out but I slipped to a melancholy phase like what I’m doing now. I was heartbroken, I just wanted to sleep, stare at the ceiling, mope and tell myself that the next time would be better, for now I have to pick myself and write another one.

I have tried to polish my craft, read books on writing and even attended one short story workshop where the facilitator, an award winning writer who was always late didn’t contribute much to give us tips on writing. He just told us to read the classics and watch Italian or French films to learn how to write descriptively. He was a little full of himself too. And I paid P4,000 to listen to this self-centered nerd.

My husband asks me, why do I waste my time writing for a literary magazine that has low readership, one the  so called “educated” intellectual snobs patronize. I don’t care. You’re not a writer if these literary gods don’t publish you, I tell him. I want that validation as a writer. Yeah, even if almost nobody reads it, he scoffs.

Well, if an actress in Hollywood salivates for an Oscar, I want a Palanca for myself. Why not? Can’t I dream? But I guess my gift for erudition is not as wide as the other Palanca winners, maybe I’m more of a genre writer whatever that is.

So here I am, telling myself to write as I am, emotional, sarcastic, did I say emotional again..to write as I want to not someone else’s idea how I should write. Maybe that’s not the best way to write short stories though because the “right” way according to experts is to show it, not say it, put forth nuances for effect. Duh, I don’t write that way, I’ll tell it as I see it. Well, I guess that doesn’t work for this medium. I don’t have to tell how the character is feeling, let the reader decipher between the lines, let them find their way in the story. Maybe I was wrong. Wow, that feels awful, thank you. The urge to mope is at it again.

And even if I write the way I want to, the dream of having a writing award someday will still haunt me.  Argh! But maybe being read by more people and appreciated for it will compensate for that. And the question I grapple with is, do I push myself in a medium that doesn’t accept me or do I stick to one that accepts me for me, one that I can be myself ? Should I give up my dream of writing a great story or push forward despite the rejections?  

That’s hard. As a writer, you want to think that you can not only write your thoughts on certain topics but you can tell a story too. I want to read my words on an effin paper not just on a computer or tablet screen. Maybe I’m being stubborn, sentimental but I want my name on paper, to be kept and held on to. That’s why I’ll keep on submitting these stories and reading on ways how to tell effectively it. It is a dream, my dream, but is it like a man I love that doesn’t love me back after I tried so hard?

Then like a balm to my broken heart, I came across this article from Rogue magazine(April 2012 issue) titled, “Burn after Reading” by Katrina Stuart Santiago about her take on the Philippine Literary scene.  I was wandering and moping in National Bookstore when I saw it on the cover and she writes:

“ There is much to be said about the probability that the writer who has not done any of the writing workshops, has not come out with a book with any of the commercial and academic publishing houses, has not taught at one of the four major Manila universities in the past five years, has not won any major writing prize…would be brushed off as a non-writer. Or just a not-one-of-us, the ”us” being the writing community-the literati-in the third-world Philippines”

Ouch. Okay, my prose may be far from seamless and still needs work but having a literary “mafia” as an added obstacle for publication is a bit too much. How can I ever find myself in the hallowed land of literary distinction, now I’m more depressed.

“The years have taught me that right here what operates is an unspoken/unconscious/unexplained set of rules that have nothing to do with writing skill or literary merit. Right here, what operates is a togetherness premised on friendships…a fascinating  display of parochialism and patronage”

Great. Maybe my work isn’t that bad, hmm…

“It is in these instances that it becomes clear that you’re not one of “them” and it takes a while before your realize that there is much freedom in being away-far far away-..from the house that literature built. …Because  it means that you dare grow up, you dare stand by writing with which not many might agree, but for which you do find readers.”

Maybe my realization during my moping moments was right, I should write the way I want to. Be myself even if others like it or not and if they do, if they do like it, it will both be a privilege and a pleasure to write for these people.

“This is why the Pinoy reading public doesn’t care about the literati. It’s because the literati doesn’t care about these readers. And that’s you, the Harry Potter, Hunger-Games reading public, you.”

Wow. My husband was right. Why should I whine and pine about these snobs who don’t care what the public wants to read. For these people, they define what the public should read. Talk about being high and mighty.

But I don’t want to solely blame this literati obstacle for the non-publication of my stories. I know I still need improvement.And knowing about this big literati opposition makes me want to become a better writer. Because being good is not good enough, it should be the best I can craft in, meaning more work, more time spent polishing my stories. And at the same time, I should also find other venues like websites that might be interested in my stories. I should not close my doors on internet publishing because I’ve also read in Rogue that Amazon’s ebook sales have surpassed the sales of traditional paperbacks. That’ something I should ponder on as well. Hmm…

Hunger Games Book and Movie: An unexpected surprise

My husband introduced me to Hunger Games, he bought it and read it first.  After finishing it easily, he told me that he found it interesting. He seldom reads YA books. He loves his gun magazines and legal thrillers so this was a first. Maybe he thought it was a zombie book or something, he digs those kinds of books. But really, Hunger Games? The title alone made me cringe and imagined weird creatures with hungerfests. Then I got curious when I heard Stephanie Meyer loved it. But still, the title?

Then I took a peek and the plot instantly captured me, digging deep into my consciousness. The reaping. The tributes. It was something new and brought me to a new set of characters with colored hair and lived in the weird world of the Capitol where killing innocent children was a spectator event. 

I liked Suzanne Collins' style of writing. It was fast-paced and fairly an easy read. You can blaze your way through the paragraphs without stumbling on too much rambling armed only with your imagination.

I have read the entire Hunger Games trilogy and my favorite one was the first. Maybe because everything was still new and I was excited and apprehensive how it would all end. I liked Gale more than Peeta but I think Peeta complemented Katniss more.

So despite my misgivings that the film may not live up to the book, I watched it. And it didn’t disappoint me. Even it was a little disconcerting to have some wobbly scenes on the first part. I got used to it. And my favorite parts were the parade of Katniss and Peeta in flaming costume while they rode on their chariot and when Katniss angrily grabbed Peeta after he played up his crush on her on the Capitol’s TV show. “You made me look weak” she hissed.

But the most touching part was Rue’s death. The way they focused on the blurring sky like it was how Rue saw it as she was starting to fade was heartfelt. I felt my hands dab on my eyes. The action sequences were also not as graphic as I expected which was good.

The disturbing part of Hunger games for me was the Cornucopia. Not only because of the killings but because it it felt like a reflection of life sometimes. Like we are all actors in a great playing field called life. Like there’s someone in charge, someone who gives out intense problems for us to hurdle and in a moment of fancy sends out surprising solutions like the small silver parachutes that floats from above. Like there’s a gamemaster who wants to lead us where he want us to be, surprising us with balls of fire to get us there. I know it’s kinda profound but doesn't it feel like that sometimes?

And what Peeta said impressed me, he mentioned that he does not want the game to change him, that he will die as himself not as what they want him to be. Maybe it’s also another way of saying that our problems or situations should not define us and we can rise above it if we want to.

Going back to the movie, Lenny Kravitz as Cinna was surprising. He had none of the outrageous hair Effie had but still the gold eyeliner made a statement. It was the first time I've seen him without his shades on and he looks younger than I expected. I love his understated acting. And Woody Harrelson, wow, exactly who I imagine Haymitch Abernathy to be.

And of course, Jennifer Lawrence was brilliant. She really embodied Katniss Everdeen. She exuded the strength and vulnerability of her character while Josh Hutcherson was great as Peeta, he portrayed him with quiet sensitivity and affection that complemented the character of Katniss.

Having said that, I’d like to thank my husband for pestering me to read Hunger Games. He knows that I’m a sucker for strong female characters, think Alias and Nikita. Now it’s Katniss. Reading and watching her journey had been quite a ride and I’m still catching my breath.

Beautiful Boy by David Sheff: Raw, Heartbreaking, Memorable

One of the most memorable books I have read is Beautiful Boy by David Sheff. I read it last year but I still remember it because it was raw and heartfelt. It is about the travails of a father who has a son who is struggling from drug addiction.

As a parent, I felt his heartbreak seeing his son waste himself, to see him almost skin and bones, far from the athlete he once was. I also felt his fear having to call hospitals, police station hoping that his son, Nic is not there while sadly expecting the worst. And how his stomach tightens when the phone rings because it might be tragic news about Nic.

More than that, I am amazed by the amount of research he has gone through to understand about addiction, to know more about the “evil” that possessed his son. Moreso for his patience, for giving his son so many chances to get well, bringing him to rehab so many times and enduring to see him relapse and going back to his addiction but still forgiving him again and again, hoping he will change.

But what strikes me about this book is the courage of the author, David Sheff to emotionally expose himself. He didn’t hold back, he generously lets you in. Immersing yourself in his story, you feel his worry and anguish, you witness the harrowing days and nights when his son was missing and how painful it was to him. It brought me to tears many times. It made me look at addiction in a new light, increasing my empathy for parents going through this. It indeed is a hard life because addiction is a disease they have to battle with for the rest of their lives.

I prefer reading nonfiction such this nowadays. I love reading true stories of individuals going through different ordeals and triumphing over them. Maybe because after my son was diagnosed with autism, I wanted to read about people who are struggling with their own challenges and winning over them. I want to read how it changed them for the better and how their sadness were turned to help others. Reading Beautiful Boy made me realize on thing, all parents are the same. We all have our own struggles, our own pain and we all want the best for our children.  

We want them to grow up well and be happy and it doesn’t matter if our kids our regular kids or special children because when challenges like addiction or autism happens, we are all heartbroken. And as parents, you are part of a special group of people who understands this great love for one's child and the special bond we have with them.

So I laud David Sheff. I laud his courage for bringing his story about his son’s addiction out in the open. It must have been hard to go back to the drug-laced days of his son. But I know it helped many people open their eyes to addiction. For me, it made me realize that sometimes one session of rehab is not enough  because there’s a part in the brain that gets warped once you get addicted. I don't have the right to judge an addict hastily. It is an ongoing process, to fight the urge to use drugs again.

And for families battling with addiction, I hope this book helps them. I hope it serves as an ally because it understands what they’re going through. Let it be a beacon in their journey as they fight against this menace. And I hope David’s son, Nic gets better, I really do and if he did, I hope he lives a more peaceful life.

Here are some excerpts in David Sheff’s Beautiful Boy that moved me, I hope it does move you too:

“Slowly,  I realize that Nic is gone, and he has robbed the house of cash, food, and a case of wine. He was selective. He took only very good wine. I am in a panic…”

“My son, the svelte and muscular swimmer, water –polo player, and surfer with an ebullient smile, is bruised, sallow, skin and bone and his eyes are vacant black holes. When I reach him he goes limp in my arms. I half carry him, his feet shuffling beneath him.”

“My panic mounts. Every time the phone rings, my stomach constricts. Where can he be? I cannot imagine, or more accurately, I choose not to. I push away the grisliest thoughts. Finally I call the police and hospital emergency rooms, asking if he is in jail or if there has been an accident. Each time I call, I brace myself for the unthinkable.”

 “Sometimes the pain in the room is nearly unbearable. Without respite, we hear, see and most of all feel with heart-tearing jabs the bleakness of the lives of people whose loved ones have become addicted to meth, though the “drug of choice” hardly matters… The people in the circle are different, yet we are all the same. We all have gaping wounds.”

“Every addict’s story has similar themes too- remorse, out of control fury, directed most often at themselves- and a sense of helplessness. “Do you think I want to be this way? A man screams into the face of his shaking wife. “Do you” Do you? I HATE MYSELF.” Both of them cry and cry and cry.”

“I don’t hear from Nic, and each hour and each day and each week is quiet torture like physical pain. Much of the time I feel as if I am on fire. It may be true that suffering builds character, but it also damages people. ..I try to “detach”- to let go and let God. How does any parent let go? I can’t. I don’t know how.”

“I see Nic on the plane. I see him as he is- frail, opaque, ill- my beloved son, my beautiful boy.”

“I have been terrorized by the fear that he would die. If he did, it would leave a permanent crack in my soul. I would never fully recover. But I also know that if he were to die, or for that matter, if he stays high, I would live on- with that crack. I would grieve, I would grieve forever.”

“Some of the times when Nic wasn’t all right it got so bad that I wanted to wipe out and delete and expunge every trace of him from my brain so that I would not have to worry about him anymore and I would not have to be disappointed by him and hurt by him and I would not have to blame myself and blame him and I would no longer have the relentless and haunting slide show of images of my lovely son, drugged, in the most sordid, horrible scenes imaginable.”

Dare to Dair: Dan and Blair endgame for Gossip Girl

I should have been writing about my review on the Iron Lady by Meryl Streep or a piece on Logos Hope, the floating bookfair docked in the pier of Manila. But these past few days I have been looking over videos of Dan and Blair of Gossip Girl in YouTube for hours and guiltily neglecting my writing. Yes, I’m obsessed and what’s their term “shipping” them, meaning rooting for these TV characters to end up together. Dan and Blair should be endgame in Gossip Girl, that’s the DAIR battlecry haha J

The last time I was obsessed with TV couplings was during Dawson’s Creek time when I was way younger :) I loved Joey and Pacey and agonized over their fate. That time, there were no “wars” over the internet over fictional characters, just plain hope that the writers would see through the millions yearning for them to be together. Come to think of it, maybe they received thousands of letters because they eventually relented. Thus, resulting to a Joey and Pacey endgame, Yey!

It's odd and ridiculous even that a thirtysomething woman like me, okay two years to forty (ugh! I'm so embarrassed) one who loves to read selected YA novels, watches the Twilight films, Vampire Diaries, am now totally enamored by these two characters in Gossip Girl, Dan Humphrey and Blair Waldorf. I’m not the usual teenage fan of Gossip Girl, of course I'm ancient but I was initially fascinated by the fiery and complicated relationship of Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf. But it all changed recently when I watched Dan slip through this show’s romantic radar. A dark horse for Blair’s attention. But actually he has always been there, he’s the good guy who was left unnoticed. And now, his time has come and he has swept Blair off her feet, including me and thousands if not, millions more.

They always talk about how great Penn Badgley and Leighton Meester's chemistry is. I agree. They have it (so why aren't they dating? just joking, but they look like they've been in love forever). Here, they play characters who have opposite personalities that get attracted to one another, the fashion and drama queen of the Upper East Side meets the laidback and unassuming Lonely Brooklyn boy. He was Blair's dependable friend until he got the courage to show his love through a kiss on Valentine's Day. I still remember Blair in a posh red gown asking Dan what will make him happy and he slowly comes near and kisses her. Wow, what a kiss :)

You see every woman wants a Dan Humphrey, one who will stand by her no matter what, a friend to talk to in one's darkest and confusing hours. Like a particular scene between Blair and Dan when she asked him, “What if I lose everything?” to which he replied, “You’ll still have me” J So that’s why I dare to DAIR J

And as someone who has encountered a lot of toads along the romantic highway and found and happily married "the one" and now blessed with a kid with him, I'm happy to reminisce the beginning of true love once again, to remember the hours spent talking to this special person and feeling at home and comfortable with him, even if it's only a glimpse on television. So let DAIR be the endgame please, Gossip Girl writers  :)