The Art of Imperfect Hair

Somebody recently sent this old picture of me (click for bigger image) to another person through MMS. The receiver, who's seen me a few times, had to wonder who it was for a bit, before realizing it was me. What made me momentarily unrecognizable? She said it was because my hair was neatly in place, and well, it was often the opposite in person...Hahaha.

Everybody would love to have great, perfect-for-her/him hair. I don't think anybody would pass up that chance if God suddenly offered them better locks than the one they already have (given that there is no catch, but just a plain, uncomplicated, honest-to-goodness offer) --I'd daresay even the ones with seemingly flawless hair. Well, I would. I'd trade my hair up for something much low maintenance than it is and forever will be. You know, perhaps something like that of Korean women typically seen in these, um, Korean movies, like that Sassy Girl's hair. Or perhaps, a totally wavy one, which is sometimes worn by Penelope Cruz or naturally found on many Latina heads.

My hair has a veeery fine texture. It's not totally straight nor totally wavy, and mostly on the limp end, being not thick at all. It easily gets damaged by just a little wear and tear. A slight wind would already mess up 20 minutes' (or even an entire day's) worth of painstaking, loving combing. So I can't really help it if not a strand is in place on my head. Or if I decide to start combing only when I'm walking my way out of the subdivision (Hahahaha, yep). I mean, it wouldn't really make a difference, believe me. I've checked. And I wouldn't want to spend on products and treatments that I'm not sure what would do to my hair. I've not at all jumped on the hair straightening/relaxing/rebonding bandwagon for fear of ending up with stiff, coarse hair not unlike a broom. Oh, you never know if price even justifies quality. Trial and error would be too horrifying an option that leads to more dismal ones: a) chop off your 5-year old hair; b) just simply chop off your hair; c) get a skinhead.

So basically, maintaining this hair type that I have would take a lot of fuss. And being the kind of person that doesn't like to fuss too much on hair, it's positively hairsplitting. There are certain situations where I don't like to be in the middle --in playing soccer and with hair type. Why couldn't I have been on the straighter or wavier end of the hair spectrum? You know? Either way, I'd comb less and not worry. Who worries with straight hair? With wavy hair, I have an excuse as to why it's askew *cough*. With my type of hair though.... Ugh. Fussy.

However, enough of the fuss. You're just gonna hafta to rein in your innate desire to behold perfection around me and my hair. It'll be the way it is, and this'll be the way I decide to (not) fix it, until I find what best solution I can approve for it. The best coiffures I might be seen with would probably only be on dress-up occasions, heat-styled days and on days that luck has struck. Hahahaha. As for this picture, hmm...It seems to be enjoying positive critique so far...Perhaps I'll spread it around... Ahahahaha.


Photo credit: Me. I did it.

Politically Flavored (May not suit your taste)

Consider the specified posts from the following blogs:

Liquid-Packets ("Why We Are Not Out in the Streets")
Musings of a Muse ("SSSSSShhhhhhhhh" to "Virus in My Brain")

Reading posts like the ones in those blogs above always make me think. I think about the superfluousness of my life --and even my posts --that I go a-frolicking when perhaps I should be doing something more substantial or be part of something pivotal. My life is shallow really, and merely pleasure-driven, when I set it beside the lives these people live, dedicating them to a worthy cause as seeking for the country's emancipation from the pitfalls of Third-World status. And I get compelled to sit in a silent corner in my mind and ponder once more on this complicated and twisted political mess that is my country and the forces that are constantly shaping and shifting it. I wonder who are really on the side of the people and true economic progress and who are really just self-indulgent and power-hungry, and who are the fronts and the pawns and who are the true players and movers in this never-ending game. I had been narrow-minded and perhaps somewhat naive to believe the one side of a probably polygonal conundrum.

I was immersed in that world for a while, and I slowly became convinced that theirs is the righteous cause. It all seemed to fit in a logical way, the pieces of information I was given. I learned to despise capitalism and its extreme manifestation, imperialism. It seemed true that my country is a slave of the capitalists, a mere pawn in the cutthroat world of competitive free trade. It is exploited of its resources ever so cheaply and made to buy the finished products at a far more expensive price, under the protection of the label "imported". At the microcosm, the laborers and other low-class workers are being paid too disproportionately to the toil that they wield; the masses, deprived of the most basic rights that the government is mandated to provide and protect. I was far from completing the puzzle, but the pieces were making logical sense as they were handed to me.

But my single-minded determination to get to the ominous bottom of the matter was to be cut short. I was shown a different angle of the story, perhaps not as polemic as the other, but one that still made me pull my head back out of the crimson waters and consider. It seemed to proclaim a far more encompassing reality: that not everyone can ever amass wealth in colossal proportions and live in comfort, that in this world, there will endure an economic hierarchy, an affluence gradient, which will preserve the words "rich" and "poor" indefinitely.

However, that does not bid bad news apparently, since anyone, anyone can and by all means transcend their economic situation if they put in the necessary effort. For had not a lot of people started from nothing and came out millionaires, or if not, at least living more comfortably in the end? I took a look at certain prominent figures in society with such backgrounds and at the backgrounds of some of the people around me. I looked at my own family, and sure enough, we had similarly undergone the hardships of striving for a more economically secure life.

One supposed reason why there exists an economic low class, why there are impoverished people, is these pe:ople's attitude towards their state of living. Some blame fate or leave it up to fate for their luck to change. Some make unwise and lazy decisions, for instance, selling their land in order to grasp a fleeting sum of money in a more effortless manner, instead of breaking sweat to till and eke out a small, but sustainable and sustaining living. Then there are those who incite their ambitions and attraction to the modern life that they flee their relatively secure but uneventful lives in the countryside and venture into the unfamiliar cities and end up broke and penniless.

Ambition and attitude are the culprits of poverty, I was told, not the government. The government, flawed as it is, does its job nevertheless, serving the people's interests to the best of its imperfect abilities. It does reach out to the farthest recesses of the islands to build schools and roads and bridges. Not the best quality education it could give, but gives education it does. I was told off to stop focusing on the negative aspects and give more credit to the little good things that do happen. The repatriation of foreign workers from Lebanon, is a good thing, is it not? The media may present unbiased information, but it is a big business enterprise, nevertheless. Bad news seems to have higher viewer stats, and they capitalize on those figures for profit. That could be one of the main reasons why one mostly hears of bad news, not because it's all that ever happens in the world, but because it is what the media plays up, however subtly or unsubtly.

And there's some more, quite disturbing this time. Activism and countryside rebellion against the government is a front, another perspective says. It is a front used by certain opposition figures to stir unrest or to unsettle the government for their political agendas. Where do these activists obtain their funds? Where do the rebels get their guns? The common people, too, are said to be also using activists' cause for their personal intentions. Say a guy named Procupio is complaining of being landless, so he joins demonstrations demanding for apportionment of land to certain aggrieved citizens. But then, Procupio was allotted a piece of land, so he goes home, happy. When his activist friends invite him to another street rally for the cause, Procupio was not to be seen again.

I, exposed to be truly ignorant of the real issues by this time, have no answers. I am at a loss now as to who is really on the honorable end. And I may try, but I know I can never tap into the core and find out the truth for myself. What little I may know is likely to be already wrapped in layer upon layer upon layer of distortions of the truth. It has come to the point where I don't anymore know what to believe. Is democratic socialism really the solution? Should we move to change the economic system of the country? Or should we learn to cooperate with the government this time than continue to go against it?

I do not discount the idea that capitalism contributes to poverty. It probably does. All Third World countries are testaments to that. All Third World countries are exploits of the world's richest and most vicious capitalists. Capitalism encourages some degree of freedom in the acquisition of wealth, but it tends to eliminate the small-time players out of the picture. Democratic socialism rewards each according to his labor and control the state's assets and wealth. That's about what I know about it. Will it transcend communism, which just about failed to hold in most countries that established it (North Korea, an existing exception)? I have yet to be enlightened.

There is some credence to cooperating with the government to achieve progress, but what if that government is really not aiming for that and is really just submitting to its capitalist masters and pinching from the coffers while putting up a circus of endeavoring to steer the country economically forward?

It's basically a this-or-that situation, and then some. But in the end, what all of us really want is to see this country haul itself out of its miserable economic hellhole. In the face of ongoing and extensive brain drain and rampant colonial mentality, I still believe that nationalism and patriotism has not totally died in the hearts of the people. We merely want a substantial reason or a handful to be proud of the country. And no, boxing conquests and international beauty pageant crowns are NOT substantial reasons to feel nationalistic pride. These victors and queens are merely citizens or else descended from the bloodline and have not at all achieved anything more substantial that can contribute to national progress.

No. True national pride emanates from the transcendence of national crises. The end of Third-World status. The end of poverty. The end of illiteracy and unemployment. The reign of justice. The successful conservation of natural resources. The extensive encroachment of modern technology. These are the true victories that should stir national pride. Celebrating anything lesser in the name of national pride is farcical.

There is one more achievement that should be on the list: true national unity. We have been tolerating our national discord for too long a time. We have allowed our mentalities to become as archipelagic as our islands. It's not a bad idea to try working together for once, even if it's just to get a feel for once of what unity is like. Then things might get a little easier. Then it might become a lighter and happier burden to toil for progress. Then we can be truly proud of ourselves and of this country. It's a big dream, but if we share it in manageable pieces, it just might become reality.

Have A Cup

I've always felt a happy, intense rush whenever I drank coffee. Yup. It's not even sip, it's downright guzzling it down. I've been dictated by my head a few times to at least savor the aroma, or the taste of it. But well, you know, I've only been drinking instant coffee. It's not like it's some special brew. But no matter, though. When the coffee's had time to circulate in my system, I get a feeling of power, that I can do anything I set my mind on. And my mind gets filled with ideas about a lot of things. Ideas, ideas, ideas. I feel a lot of things, too. I'm ecstatic, then nostalgic. I feel every song I hear, and I'm basically an undernourished bundle of energy while it lasts.

But that was the upside, of course. Finally, when the power rush begins to subside, I get a little bit too jittery than is personally comfortable. My heart beats still faster, but now heavier, too, this time, as if forcibly making its presence felt. Fingers uncontrollably fidgety, feet jiggling irrepressibly, are what becomes my composure. Not to mention the inset of the diuretic effect that's characteristic in coffee drinking (good thing, really, that the toilet's just a few steps away). And when all the caffeine has been flushed out, all that's left of me is a drained mass of flesh, tired, glum, and sapped of spirit.

Still, when the morning comes, I crave for yet another cup. But the trip has led me to say that you're really only truly happy when you have the energy. Or rather, I have come to agree to a statement that says so.

Raging Against....

I'm rebelling.... And I know it. I am angry, much as I don't really want to be. I've been exercising much of my newfound patience for people, stretching it when I thought I couldn't it stretch it that far anymore. Maybe I actually became tired of being angry all my life in an unconscious part of my head. Maybe I realized that bursting out every time you felt like it just was unbecoming of me, or of anyone who deep inside just really wants to be a good person, to achieve a true peace with his/her brethren and with him/herself. But then.....I get provoked to the point of going insane. Lately. And for what? Because I wanted to create my own path, move away (or just stray a bit, really) from under their wing. I am not being ungrateful. I have more than my whole life to be grateful for to them. I only wanted to try things out for myself. But instead of being supportive, they put me down and criticize every little thing --no, more like blowing up every little thing that they could find something wrong with! I totally see where they're coming from. And I am ready to go into an explanation to make them understand. But that's just the point there. They do not. Will not. Cannot. Why can't they? I admit, at some point, I was being selfish. Because what they really want is to see me off a relatively promising path in life. I know that. And I want to accomplish that for them. And I think I will. I sincerely don't want them to be anymore worrying about me. But they must understand that pushing me to do something I'm not ready to partake in will only lead to mine and their disappointment. I know my capabilities, and I know how much time I need to have. They need to be understanding sometimes. Sometimes, it feels like they're running a boot camp. Everything they want to happen should get done. No buts. No ifs. No consideration of the person's feelings or state of mind, whatsoever. Plus the fact that I've felt rejected, or at least, less wanted, by them. By any of them. Perhaps they don't know that. All they see is me seemingly aloof, indifferent, uncaring. When the truth is, I care a damn lot. Even when I don't want to, didn't have to. Even more than each of their "favorites". There could only be so many instances that I would have liked to run away, get away from this place, this situation. It's so stifling. Stuffier than the eternal fires of the theological hell might make it to be. And it's so obvious they're playing favorites, no matter what they say about being equally loved and judged or whatever. And I'm the one left in the middle, not wanted....not really. I'm fine with it now. I've accepted that I'm nobody's favorite. Got that. What I will not accept is that I'm being unfairly treated. I have a strong proud streak, and it's partly their doing that made me this way. And that pride is demanding that I at least be given the same privileges as the rest of us. I can live with being the odd one out. I'm okay with odd. I'm a nonconformist, anyway. Or trying to be. Trying to be, 'cause I've been blessed to be chicken shit, notwithstanding. 'Cause sometimes, I really only feign to be brave, when I'm already dying to collapse and cry. Because there's no one to collapse into, no arms outstretched, nobody to have my back. All I have is myself. Just like now. I don't want to keep this anger a second longer. But I....I feel I have to. For me, I believe. It's just that I don't want to feel I'm weak anymore. When you are weak, you are strong? Ha ha. Run that to me again, wouldja please.

Okay... I'll think about it. I am not yet cold-hearted.

Night Over Day (repost/edit)

Reposted from my Friendster blog

"Your soul don't go very far in the daylight 'cos it stops where you can see.... The nighttime is better. It stretches your soul right out to the stars. And that...is a very long way. " (Anna)

"The daylight is for the brain and the senses. The darkness is for the heart and the wits." (Old Woody)

-excerpts from "Mister God, This Is Anna"

I share these very statements. The words that I could only feel about the night.... I don't feel the potential danger that lurks in the fold of darkness and discomfits the hearts of my parents.... what I do feel is a profound sense of being one with the world at this hour. There is something wonderful about daytime and daylight....but still there is something more enthralling to the night than could be fathomed....A hidden mystery, a spellbinding delight... An enchantment that is irresistible, but fades into quiescence when the sky softens into another day...

The night brings to life all mystical stories that would seem preposterous in daylight... Faeries, unicorns, hobbits, the fair elves of Rivendell, Harry Potter, magic, witchcraft, mermaids, princesses who dance into the night till they bore holes into their shoes... My imagination spins with these stories... And I am that starry-eyed child again... Pure, untainted, dreaming only of these mythical places and how I might go there... I long to stick my nose into a magic book again and not care about anything else...

Sad, how I had to strip off my shimmering fairy dress and stash away my wand...Sad how my pretty cottage by the enchanted woods had to be demolished, the woods flattened to barren dirt, to make way for this modern international empire called Growing Up... Only the night safekeeps the golden key to those fading memories... I am a night owl for a reason....I thrive under an endless canopy of stars, hoping to revel once more in that world that I so loved, beyond anything and everything.