The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

(a repost from my almost extinct Multiply site)

I've made a haunting decision: I have chosen to be ugly. For Halloween, anyway.

Usually, I either ditch the costume ritual altogether or make Halloween an excuse to put piles of makeup on. We all know that most girls use Halloween as excuse to look hot (ahem, Mean Girls) but this year, I chose to look, well, not. My costume choice is the girl best known for being, to put it politely, physically flawed. This year, I will be Ugly Betty.

You may be wondering, why on earth would a single girl decide to look incredibly unattractive on a night when all the other girls will look incredibly attractive? Is it because of the need to seem extremely original and to blatantly express my individuality? Partially, yes. There are a number of different reasons why but the main reason is this: frankly, I just don't care.

I've always had difficulty competing with other girls for a guy's attention. Since majority of the male species' actions are based on their libido vs. their better judgment, it's not always easy to "get the guy". Watching too many movies sometimes gives me an optimistic picture of what the world is like, when in actuality, looks do matter. They matter to an extent that is more than anyone would like to admit. We live under the pretense that we care more about the inside then the out but everyone knows that the packaging is what convinces us to buy the product. It's ironic, but deep down inside, we're all superficial.

I'm not ugly. Neither is Betty. Granted, she's not exactly the epitome of beauty, but I find in her an admirable quality that makes her at the very least, likable. The problem is that she has physical flaws. So do I. So do a lot of other men and women. But in the world we live in, we have to be as close to the generally accepted standard of what is attractive - for example; light skin, long hair, tall nose, chiseled abs - to be considered so. Being as attractive as possible gives us a better chance to get exactly what we want; whether its the guy, the job, or any kind of special privileges. We've heard these stories many times, whether they be fact or fiction: Erika getting promoted because her boss had the hots for her; or Mark getting a paid vacation for flirting with the boss. It may be true, it may not. But it is definitely possible. We've all experienced or at least witnessed how prettier people can get more than the average person. Call it unfair, or just call it what it is: life.

To be honest, I'm not one of those people who protest this particular injustice. I'm not bothered if some people get more than others because of their wealth, connections or beauty. Don't get me wrong, I am all for equality. But as I said earlier, that's life and as much as we want to protest for change, the system will not budge unless people actually change. Besides, if you protest against prettier people getting more than what you have, then that could mean nothing else except: you're ugly. But I'm not saying I don't mind the injustice because I think I'm pretty. Again, my reason is that I just don't care.

The main problem of being ugly is the discrimination involved. If physical appearances did not affect our chances for certain experiences and/or opportunities, then being physically flawed should not matter. Ugly people will just be ugly for a fact, pretty people likewise, and that's all there will be to it. No bias, no discrimination and no one would have any reason to complain. But the tricky part is, it's in our nature to discriminate. It can't be helped. Some people may have the willpower to refrain from voicing out derogatory remarks, but it doesn't mean that their thoughts are not guilty of it. You just have to know when to keep your mouth shut.

Getting dolled up at times makes us feel good, doesn't it? It's amazing how one person's compliment can make (or break) another person's day. But looking good should not be the extent of a person's existence. After all, it's been said that time can fade away even the most exceptional of beauties.

It's funny that in the end we all turn out to be "ugly" anyway.

Junky

(a repost from my almost extinct Multiply site)

I need caffeine to function. It is my stimulant, my alarm, my wake up call to the day ahead. I depend on coffee because without it, my day never seems to begin. How unfortunate for me, a caffeine junky, to be hooked on its heavenly aroma and bittersweet taste, when a good cup of coffee can sometimes cost more than a meal.

I like good coffee. No, I love good coffee. The instant kind is okay, but it isn't as enticing as the real thing. It's like craving for sinigang and having nilaga in its absence. It's yummy, but not what you wanted.

Many times I've tried to kick the habit, but all to no avail. To me, its like cigarettes. I NEED it. I just HAVE to have it. Both (coffee and cigarettes) are addictive and I, being the sucker that I am, am addicted to both.

I feel compelled to make a change in my coffee-guzzling habit but it's hopeless. The coffee establishments will not lower their prices and I surely don't have the strength to resist. I am utterly and completely powerless.

I, regretfully, resign to remain... a Caffeine Junky.

What Happens When Friends Flee

(a repost from my almost extinct Multiply site)

The term "BFF" is so... lame. However, it is a term I find perfectly applicable to call a friend of mine who has just fled to another country. If I've noticed anything over the years, it's this: those who have to leave are always those I'm closest to. It's inevitable that I should wonder, am I some kind of undercover-top-secret kind of friend repellent? Or is it just sheer coincidence?

Again, this friend of mine was not just any friend. She was my best(est) friend - my BFF, in "lame man's" terms. She was my number one confidant. She knew things about me that no one else knew, or had any inkling of. She read my thoughts and emotions so well, even when I try my best to conceal them. She knew me best out of anyone in this world - possibly even more than my own mother! And of course, by "sheer coincidence", she had to go too.

I went through the exact same thing when my other "BFF" (I have only 2) decided to flee this country for greener pastures years ago. I still miss her to this very day. But I can't say I blame them for leaving. I know that right now, my country doesn't seem to have many options when it comes to making a comfortable life and building a promising future. I should know, considering my bank account. Pardon my bitterness for saying this, but I will say it: today, I hate America.

My Pop and I were talking yesterday and he mentioned that when he was younger, a few good friends of his also fled because of the whole "greener pastures" situation. We never really got to finish the conversation, because I was only dropping him off at the hospital and I couldn't just double park on a busy street. But it helped me to think that a good kind, or in our case, the best kind of friendship doesn't dissolve into thin air. My Pop still keeps in touch with his friends and when he gets a chance to, visits from time to time. I know that this too, will be the case with me. And it makes me feel the littlest bit better.

Sometimes I think that I should get out of here too because to be honest, it kind of sucks here. But then I snap out of it because I realize it's the bitterness talking, not me. Perhaps someday I will, but the reason for it definitely won't be because I feel so left behind.

Here's a resolution: I want to stop looking behind and start looking forward. I am who I am, with friends or without. Maybe it's better for me to have less people in my life, so that I can make better decisions without other people's opinions clouding my judgement. I've experienced having a battalion of friends, without really knowing anyone in it and I much prefer the quiet little platoon I'm in now.

When friends flee, especially the best(est) of friends, they leave behind a conflict of emotions. You feel happy for them and sad for yourself. I hate to admit it, but I am guilty of secretly wishing her trip would become nothing more than a long vacation. Self-pity is so damaging, it can eat you up whole and spit out the bones.

Nonetheless, I sincerely feel happy for her. If you love someone, you want what's best for them, and I do. Really. Despite my whining, I do.