Java madness continues in honor of The 2011 National Coffee Day!

Here is another inspirational, coffee-themed piece that I found on ye olde hard drive. It was originally shared with yours truly around six or so years back and now seems the perfect time to actually post the same online.

Get yourself a hot (or cold) cuppa, and enjoy!

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old University of Notre Dame lecturer.

Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the lecturer went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups – porcelain, plastic, glass, some plain looking and some expensive and exquisite, telling them to help themselves to hot coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the lecturer said: “If you noticed, all the nice looking, expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is but normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.”

“What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the better cups and are eyeing each others’ cups.”

“Now, if Life is coffee, then the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, but the quality of Life doesn’t change.”

“Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee in it.”

The 29th of September this year is National Coffee Day. One of the coolest, most pulse-racing and heart-palpitating events of the year, in my humble, Starbucks-induced opinion.

Apparently, according to NationalCoffeeDay.net: “There are 111 million of coffee drinkers around the world consuming more than 440 billion cups of joe every year. And the numbers keep rising.”

Definitely more than enough reason to celebrate! (Especially for StarBucks, Costa, Second Cup and other such establishments that have artfully reshaped the practice of drinking coffee into a complete lifestyle – and a thriving industry.)

The article below is from a collection of inspirational stories called The Passage, published in 2004. This particular write-up is credited to Regina Rosarii. I originally got a photocopy of this piece way back in 2005 from one of my former bosses in the Philippines.

The Mayonnaise Jar and the Coffee

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember – the mayonnaise jar and the coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “Yes.”

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things like your family, your children, your health, your friends, your favorite passions, things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, and your car. The sand is everything else, like the small stuff.”

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.”

The piece below was written by Karen Kunawicz circa 1997. Sometime way back in 2004, I was given a clipping of her column where this article appeared and I have hung on to it ever since.

I am sharing this because of sheer angst overload for editing and plotting my novel. In addition, I have taken Panadol and ivy-leaf cough syrup for my little ongoing cough-and-cold problem, hence my brain is woozy.

Be very, very afraid, peons!

What is the sound of a heart breaking?

It is the sound of someone curled up in a tiny ball crying softly in the night, the sound of the first unwanted teardrop touching your skin, it’s the sound of a telephone that doesn’t ring, the sound of regret pounding inside your brain with every heartbeat, it’s the whispers of the toy animals he gave you.

It’s the shuffling of feet walking away from you, the sound of your soul shattering into a million pieces, at recognizing the word goodbye, it’s the soundtrack of memories torturing you, it’s the sound of your own feeble hands desperately trying to push back the hands of time, it’s the sound of all those years disappearing into the vortex of Cupid’s kitchen sink, it’s the unrelenting, plaintive baby meows of an abandoned kitten outside your door.

It’s the sound of the rain that has never ever stopped, of all the doors of the world shutting at the same time, of raging, howling storms in the night when there’s no one there to hold you, the sound of your voice as it screams back at you, the echo of I love yous burning holes in you, the sound your heart makes as it tells you to lie still because nothing you will ever do will matter without love.

The sound of the waves at the polluted beach you went to as it moves from the shore and crashes inside your mind, of the sniffles that make up your pathetic S.O.S. to the world, the cracking of the brittle black-red petals from the sidewalk vendor roses he gave, the sound of music he made going straight to your gut.

The sound of the things in your room being thrown around and landing on the floor, the caress of kitchen knives on skin, the sound your throat makes as it swallows your saltiest tear.

It’s the sound of your own voice calling out to someone who isn’t there, of dying birds getting splattered on a city pavement, of terms of endearment used a hundred times a day struggling to crawl into a vacuum of forgetfulness, it’s the sound of your own sobs keeping you company, it’s the cold, uncaring stillness of the air you share your space with.

Destruction isn’t always as noisy as bombs exploding. Sometimes the ultimate catastrophe can be as quiet as a feather falling on the floor of a Zen monastery.

No one else can really hear your heart breaking except you.

So much of my existence would seem meaningless, only a bewildering blur of random events, without you, my dearest enemy. You bring “moral clarity” where there once was only the murk of self doubt. This new-found sense of certainty soothes the anxiety created by the falling away of so many of the verities of the past.

My finite existence, which before you came into my life seemed so confused and devoid of meaning, is now imbrued with mythic purpose. Because of you, meaningful narrative has been bestowed upon the vast, incomprehensible and impersonal cosmos. The wayward prince has become a warrior king.

~Phil Rockstroh, A Love Letter To My Enemy

Daniel Radcliffe (Harry Potter) and Ralph Fiennes (Lord Voldemort) in the 16 November 2005 premier of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

In honor of the final installment of the Harry Potter movie franchise, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part 2), I would like to share the above quote and image.

What can I say, every time I look at the picture, I can’t help but think of numerous written and illustrated Harry/Voldie slash throughout the Web. Keep bringing them on, I say, while supplies last.

This is my Hunger Games version of the classic Christmas song, The Twelve Days of Christmas.

It was inspired by a Harry Potter version I saw on LiveJournal.

Twelve Districts ’round
Eleven frosted cakes
Ten snares from Gale
Nine tracker jackers
Eight arrows and a bow
Seven mockingjays
Six cornucopias
Five grooslings
Four dandelions
Three Quarter Quells
Two flaming capes
And the boy with the loaves of bread

This is a short, sweet but very meaningful response to one of the current worldwide Trending Topics on Twitter.

I would like to share a passage from Tsunetomo Yamamoto’s warrior treatise, Hagakure. This means “In the Shadow of the Leaves”.

This name served as the inspiration of the ninja clan to whom Kage-Maru, the Shadow Warrior, of Virtua Fighter belongs.

Kage is my favorite character in Virtua Fighter, both in the game as well as in the anime adaptation. In fact, he was the very reason why I fell in love with the entire series in the first place.

When I found out about that the Hagakure ninja clan’s name was inspired by the ultimate bushido manual, I researched the same and eventually got my hands on the full English translation of Yamamoto’s Hagakure. It makes for very interesting and fascinating reading.

It begins with the idea that the way of the warrior is death.

Stupendous. I love it!

In one’s life, there are levels in the pursuit of study.

In the lowest level, a person studies but nothing comes of it, and he feels that both he and others are unskillful. At this point he is worthless.

In the middle level, he is still useless but is aware of his own insufficiencies and can also see the insufficiencies of others.

In a higher level, he has pride concerning his own ability, rejoices in praise from others, and laments the lack of ability in his fellows. This man has worth.

In the highest level a man has the look of knowing nothing.

I was able to get a copy of the paperback release of Candace Bushnell’s bestselling take on the mating rituals of modern-day Manhattanites, Sex and the City.

Most of you may also be aware that this novel spawned the wildly popular HBO television series of the same title.

I have finished reading this book today and was very amused with the whole thing that I found myself wearing this sanctimonious little grin even after I put my copy down.

Bushnell’s writing style is delightfully unforgiving. It was like I was listening to a friend who had one too many martinis talking about his or her love life (or lack thereof) in the big city.

There is neither sugar nor fluff, only the harshness of glamour and urban living and a feeling that it is best to meet the passage of time head-on, clad in our best Manolo kitten heels and sipping something expensive and alcoholic at the Hamptons.

The use of “code names” like The Bone, Mr. Big, Mr. Marvelous and the like are amusing and intriguing.

At one point or the other, while reading through a passage in the book, I found myself wondering if Bushnell really was writing fiction.

Honestly, Sex and the City sounds more like a cross between a gossip column and a city girl’s tell-all blog than fiction.

Amazon.com describes the book as such:

The “Sex and the City” columnist for the New York Observer documents the social scene of modern-day Manhattan.

The reader gets an introduction to “Modelizers,” the men who only have eyes for models, as well as a more common species, the “Toxic Bachelor.”

Reading like a society novel gone downtown and askew, Sex and the City is a comically sordid look at status and ambition and the many characters consumed by the sexual politics of the ’90s.

“No, it’s not the stars that are so beautiful and wondrous. They explode or collapse and fall away and you never see them again. But if you’re very lucky, you find that the moon and the stars can work together. When one star burns itself out, the light from the moon will get you through until you see the next star.”
~Linda Holeman, Starlight, Star Bright

“Despite being of sound mind and body, and in the middle of my teenage years, I have not known a great love – or even one of mediocre quality. Because of this lack, I have submerged myself in the love of others. I’ve rolled in it, soaked it up, swallowed it whole.”
~Linda Holeman, Love, Unrequited

The quotes above are from the compilation of short stories entitled Toxic Love, penned by Linda Holeman.

Toxic Love is generally considered as suitable for the Young Adult genre but the sentiments it evokes are, in my opinion, deep and poignant – mature in their deceptive simplicity.

I am very much reminded of the style of another YA author, Francesca Lia Block, and her own collection of short stories, Girl Goddess #9.

As for Eastern simplicity and sensibility, I highly recommend the works of the very talented Banana Yoshimoto, especially her compilation of brilliant shorts, Lizard.

I am glad that I was able to, finally, get my hands on a copy of Arthur Golden’s book-turned-movie Memoirs of a Geisha.

It was the second to the last copy available in the bookstore and the last one that remained sealed in its plastic packaging. The last copy of the book was on display on one of the easy-access racks and it was badly thumbed through already.

Needless to say, I am more than halfway through the book and I have had it for only a few hours.

So far, I have noted several differences between the original story and what was portrayed in the movie.

However, film is a different genre and dramatic license must be taken in more than one instance to make a tight story that will fit in a two-hour onscreen rendition.

As I devour the hypnotic pages of my new paperback, I must say that, so far, I like the novel better than the movie.

Here is a book description from Amazon.com:

In this literary tour de force, novelist Arthur Golden enters a remote and shimmeringly exotic world.

For the protagonist of this peerlessly observant first novel is Sayuri, one of Japan’s most celebrated geisha, a woman who is both performer and courtesan, slave and goddess.

We follow Sayuri from her childhood in an impoverished fishing village, where in 1929, she is sold to a representative of a geisha house, who is drawn by the child’s unusual blue-grey eyes. From there she is taken to Gion, the pleasure district of Kyoto. She is nine years old.

In the years that follow, as she works to pay back the price of her purchase, Sayuri will be schooled in music and dance, learn to apply the geisha’s elaborate makeup, wear elaborate kimono, and care for a coiffure so fragile that it requires a special pillow. She will also acquire a magnanimous tutor and a venomous rival.

Surviving the intrigues of her trade and the upheavals of war, the resourceful Sayuri is a romantic heroine on the order of Jane Eyre and Scarlett O’Hara. And Memoirs of a Geisha is a triumphant work – suspenseful, and utterly persuasive.

Over the weekend, I finished reading Can You Keep A Secret? by Sophie Kinsella.

I was able to purchase a copy from PowerBooks while I was in Metro Manila last week.

Can You Keep A Secret? is Kinsella’s follow-up foray into the chick lit world sans Becky Bloomwood of the four-part Shopaholic series. The book’s heroine is marketing assistant Emma Corrigan, who has a few too many secrets to comfortably keep.

I must admit that I was disappointed with the book. It is not as humorous as the Shopaholic novels.

There are also too many parallels with the aforementioned series, such as:
1. A ditzy heroine who believes there is so much more in life awaiting her
2. A dark, brooding love interest who built his own company, is rich and is reputed to be a genius
3. A scandal through mass media that badly damages the heroine’s reputation and already flimsy pride
4. An irritating female co-worker occupying a nearby desk: Artemis for Emma and Clare for Becky
5. The heroine’s immediate supervisor whose name begins with the letter P: Paul for Emma and Philip for Becky
6. The heroine’s ability to quickly incur financial debts
7. The heroine is an only child
8. The presence of a sister figure who outshines the heroine: Kerry for Emma and Jessica for Becky

There are other similarities that I will probably recall later on, however, Can You Keep A Secret? is nonetheless fun enough on its own.

I am still awaiting the mass market paperback release of Kinsella’s new novel, The Undomestic Goddess. I have already seen the book and read its synopsis, but the edition was the large print paperback and it cost nearly a thousand pesos.

Here is the summary of Can You Keep A Secret? at Amazon.com:

When her plane en route from Glasgow to London experiences horrible turbulence, Emma Corrigan is convinced she is going to die.

She babbles all of her most intimate thoughts and secrets to the handsome American man sitting next to her. But the plane lands safely, and Emma bids him an awkward good-bye.

When she enters the office on Monday and learns the CEO of the company, Jack Harper, is in for a visit, Emma is horrified to learn Jack is actually the man in whom she confided on the flight. He knows everything, including that she hates her job and that she is not quite sure she loves her boyfriend.

But Jack does not fire her on the spot; instead, he quietly replaces the office coffeemaker she hates and gives her advice about her personal life, which she finds infuriating. So why can’t she stop thinking about him?

I have just finished watching the 1984 rebellious teen dance flick Footloose. I am still adrenaline-high from grooving along to 1980s hit songs such as Footloose and Holding Out For A Hero.

I found myself browsing for updates on one of next year’s most awaited movies, The Da Vinci Code. The film’s teaser-trailer is downloading as I write this.

The aforementioned international bestseller by Dan Brown has a prequel that, in my humble opinion, also deserves its own time on the silver screen: Angels & Demons.

The first Robert Langdon novel has just as much action and suspense as its successor. The setting is The Holy See itself, which vastly increases the intrigue factor.

Here are casting choices for my dream Angels & Demons movie:

Robert Langdon – Tom Hanks
He wins by default.

Vittoria Vetra – Angelina Jolie
The physicality and the outfit called for in her Tomb Raider character just about prepared her for this role.

Max Kohler – John Hurt
He has the depth and talent to give life to the tortured, genius Konig (“king”).

Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca – Benicio Del Toro
Charismatic and intelligent, with just the right mix of earthiness, sensitivity and underlying menace.

Cardinal Saverio Mortati – Paul Sorvino
This is a difficult one, but I will go for a seasoned actor with Italian roots.

Commander Olivetti – Robert De Niro
He may be a bit too short and a bit too old, but his earthy toughness would wonderfully complement Del Toro’s enigmatic chamberlain.

The Hassassin – Oded Fehr
Highly dangerous in more ways than one, with sex appeal to boot.

Gunther Glick – David Wenham
He has the range to go from bumbling (Carl in Van Helsing) tabloidish reporter to all-business (Faramir in The Lord of the Rings trilogy) Pulitzer aspirant.

Chinita Macri – Queen Latifah
I will give this role to my most adored African-American actress. She can very well pull off the no-nonsense, strong personality of the BBC camerawoman.

Finally, I will go for Alfonso Cuaron as director. His dark, deep vision suits the overall mood of Angels & Demons quite well.

The soundtrack will constitute mostly Gregorian chanting, in the likes of Gregorian: The Dark Side.

Here is the plot of Angels & Demons from the author’s official website:

When world-renowned Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is summoned to a Swiss research facility to analyze a mysterious symbol – seared into the chest of a murdered physicist – he discovers evidence of the unimaginable: the resurgence of an ancient secret brotherhood known as the Illuminati…the most powerful underground organization ever to walk the earth.

The Illuminati has surfaced from the shadows to carry out the final phase of its legendary vendetta against its most hated enemy…the Catholic Church.

Langdon’s worst fears are confirmed on the eve of the Vatican’s holy conclave, when a messenger of the Illuminati announces he has hidden an unstoppable time bomb at the very heart of Vatican City. With the countdown under way, Langdon jets to Rome to join forces with Vittoria Vetra, a beautiful and mysterious Italian scientist, to assist the Vatican in a desperate bid for survival.

Embarking on a frantic hunt through sealed crypts, dangerous catacombs, deserted cathedrals, and even to the heart of the most secretive vault on earth, Langdon and Vetra follow a 400-year old trail of ancient symbols that snakes across Rome toward the long-forgotten Illuminati lair…a secret location that contains the only hope for Vatican salvation.

An explosive international thriller, Angels & Demons careens from enlightening epiphanies to dark truths as the battle between science and religion turns to war…

I finished Paulo Coelho’s Veronika Decides to Die last Sunday and found it fairly touching, with an ironic twist for the ending.

I first discovered Coelho’s works through the popularity of The Alchemist, which I subsequently bought and read voraciously. Veronika is the second book of this brilliant author in my collection.

I adored the character who became Veronika’s love interest: a rich, highly educated, schizophrenic music lover named Eduard, who also happens to be quite handsome. He sounds exactly like my kind of man.

Yesterday, I bought two “chick lit” paperbacks. This new inclination for such reading fare has, I believe, been indoctrinated into yours truly by the very charming Shophalic series penned by Sophie Kinsella.

My newly acquired tomes are Bergdorf Blondes by Plum Sykes and The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger. Right now, I am nearly 200 hundred pages into the former.

So sue me from being a pink-loving girly-girl.

Here is a summary of Veronika from Amazon.com:

The bestselling Brazilian author of The Alchemist delicately etches this morose but ultimately uplifting story of the suicidal Veronika, who creeps along the boundary between life and death, sanity and madness, happiness and despair.

Veronika, 24, works in a library in Ljubljana, Slovenia, and rents a room in a convent; she is an attractive woman with friends and family, but feelings of powerlessness and apathy tempt her to find “freedom” in an overdose of sleeping pills.

When Veronika awakens in the purgatory of Villete, the country’s famous lunatic asylum, she is told her suicide attempt weakened her heart and she has only days to live.

In a sedative-induced haze, Veronika finds companionship in white-haired Mari, who suffers from panic attacks, and Eduard, an ambassador’s son who has been diagnosed as schizophrenic, and she begins to question the definition of insanity.

It is her supposed death sentence from the devious Dr. Igor, who is trying to shock her back into reality, that allows Veronika to reacquire the will to live and love.

I finished reading The Rule of Four late last night, after towing it around for the past several days.

This book is the literary debut of the writing team of Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason. They are kind of like a low-key, erudite version of Ben Affleck and Matt Damon, the duo that penned the Academy Award-winning screenplay of the film Good Will Hunting.

The Rule of Four is, without a doubt, highly intellectual, but there are many stilted moments that take away the thrill experienced in discovering centuries-old secrets. In this case, the object in question is the enigmatic, subliminally heavy Renaissance text Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, which is being obsessively dissected by a Princeton senior.

Perhaps the novel was too intent in mixing scholarly incisiveness, pulse-pounding suspense and youthful angst that the final product seemed like a satisfactory yet unexciting mishmash of various literary genres.

As of the moment, I am midway through Paulo Coelho‘s Veronika Decides to Die. It is far less breathtaking than the elegant grandeur that is The Alchemist.

However, Coelho still retains his fresh spirituality and deadpan sensibility. Veronika Decides to Die reminds me a bit of Amrita, Banana Yoshimoto‘s “longest novel” on amnesiac rebirth.

Amazon.com provides the following book review:

A compelling modern thriller that cleverly combines history and mystery.

When four Princeton seniors begin the Easter weekend, they are more concerned with their plans for the next year and an upcoming dance than with a 500-year-old literary mystery. But by the end of the holiday, two people are dead, two of the students are injured, and one has disappeared.

These events, blended with Renaissance history, code breaking, acrostics, sleuthing, and personal discovery, move the story along at a rapid pace.

Tom Sullivan, the narrator, tells of his late father’s and then a roommate’s obsession with the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, a 15th-century “novel” that has long puzzled scholars.

Paul has built his senior thesis on an unpopular theory posited by Tom’s father – that the author was an upper-class Roman rather than a monk – and has come close to proving it.

My parents and I are going to the town of Concepcion early tomorrow morning to visit my maternal grandparents.

They live in the barangay of Nino, which, all in all, is a good three hours away from Iloilo City. I am so looking forward to seeing Lolo and Lola again, after almost a year.

I am grateful that it rained tonight. This will make the roads far less dusty than usual, and that is a very good thing as we will be using an open-window jeepney for transport.

It is quite fun to travel long distances via jeepney because it really makes you appreciate and savor the entire concept of completing the journey from one place to the other.

Over the past 24 hours, I finished the second and third installments of Sophie Kinsella‘s Shopaholic series, Shopaholic Takes Manhattan and Shopaholic Ties the Knot.

These books were both fun romps, but I have to say that I still love Confessions of a Shopaholic best. It goes without saying that I plan to get the fourth book, Shopaholic and Sister, the next time I go to the mall.

Never mind that I go to the bookstore practically everyday, just to make sure that I get first dibs on Dan Brown‘s Digital Fortress the very moment it hits the shelves. It is left as the only Brown book I have yet to read.

In additio, have I mentioned that I have actually made a down payment on my reservation of the sixth Harry Potter book a week ago?

Here is a description of the second Shopaholic book from Amazon.com:

In this sequel to Kinsella’s bestselling Confessions of a Shopaholic, Becky Bloomwood, a personal finance “expert” with her own TV show, is more of a financial mess than ever: she can’t stop shopping, even though she can’t afford anything.

She’s even assigned her flatmate, Suze, to monitor her spending, but to no avail: Becky is full of cute rationalizations, like “Foreign money doesn’t count, so you can spend as much as you like,” and can’t stop herself from sneaking into posh boutiques.

Her work-obsessed boyfriend, Luke, runs a financial PR agency, and when he gets the green light to open an office in New York City, he brings Becky along.

Upon her arrival in the Big Apple, she euphorically discovers Barney’s, Saks, Sephora and sample sales but when wind of her shopping excesses gets back to the British press, she loses both her relationship and her TV job.

This meme was shared by a friend. Go ahead and try it yourself.

Instructions
1. Enter “(your name here) needs” in a Google search.
2. Read through the link descriptions, looking for those that actually form a sentence.
3. Post the first 15 results.
4. Enjoy!

· Shirley needs the Holistic approach.
· Shirley needs help.
· Shirley needs a dollar.
· Shirley needs overhauling.
· Shirley needs Supreme Court Reporter v.44.
· Shirley needs me.
· Shirley needs advice.
· Shirley needs the public to escape depression.
· Shirley needs love.
· Shirley needs more spells.
· Shirley needs the following: any donated items; volunteers to help with sales, inventory and pricing items; and help designing and distributing fliers.
· Shirley needs to be on the thoroughfare between the development and the car park.
· Shirley needs to remain free.
· Shirley needs more sand.
· Shirley needs Harvard.

I have just finished Sophie Kinsella‘s Confessions of a Shopaholic, which I got on paperback (contodos 20-percent Laking National discount) yesterday during my Graduate School lunch break.

The book is light and spirited, with a few emotional chords here and there. Overall, it is definitely chick lit. I highly recommend Confessions to those who want to experience unadulterated extravagant fun. Pun intended.

Amazon.com provides the following book summary:

At age 25, Rebecca Bloomwood has everything she wants. Or does she?

Can her career as a financial journalist, a fab flat and a closet full of designer clothes lessen the blow of the dunning letters from credit card companies and banks that have been arriving too quickly to be contained by the drawer in which Rebecca hides them?

Although her romantic entanglements tend toward the superficial, there is that wonderful Luke Brandon of Brandon Communications: handsome, intelligent, the 31st-richest bachelor according to Harper’s and actually possessed of a personality that is more substance than style. Too bad that Rebecca blows it whenever their paths cross.

Will Rebecca learn to stop shopping before she loses everything worthwhile?

When faced with the opportunity to do good for others and impress Luke, will she finally measure up?