On Fairness and Playgrounds

When I was in gradeschool, one of my classmates called me fat. Before I could respond (a.k.a. punch this kid in the face because I do not tolerate bullies), my bestfriend interrupted and said, "Yeah, but she's... good at Math!"

My bestfriend and I still laugh about it 'til now. I love her.

I went home that day pondering on what happened, and I realized that... I AM good at Math! I'm actually awesome at Math! But I'm also fat. Awesomely fat.

That was the moment when I decided that life is fair.

If you look at life in a linear way: fat - thin, good at Math - sucks at Math, rich - poor, etc., it will seem that life is unfair.

If you look at life in just a single spectrum of a certain quality and notice yourself to be close to one end of it, it will always seem that you lack or have too much of that particular quality. Think of it as a seesaw. You may want to be on top when you're at the bottom looking up and vice versa.

But life is composed of multiple combinations of those spectra. And somehow, if you sum up all these positive and negative qualities, you'll approach 0. Meaning life can pretty much be fair.

I stuck with this idealistic point of view until I found out what makes people's lives unfair.

Remember those spectra I was talking about? When someone is too good or bad at one of those, and he uses that quality to hurt someone else, that's when the seesaws get toppled. Just like how my classmate tried to do it to mine when he called me fat.

It was easy to handle that classmate since we were all kids and we were just in a classroom. I could easily punch him in the face* and life will be fair again. But what if you have no idea how to punch? What if you're one of those people who are good at Math, but sucks at punching? What if you're too nice and the bully is too mean? What if you are your own bully? How will you restore the seesaws then?

Life is fair. PEOPLE make it UNFAIR. The people who are too good at taking advantage are the ones messing up all our seesaws. And the only way to fight (besides punching them in the face) is to look for someone who can guard your playground and put the seesaws back to normal.

Sometimes, that someone can be your bestfriend (see first paragraph). Sometimes, it can be your parents or someone you hire to defend you. But most of the time, that someone is just you.

At the end of the day, those are your seesaws and you must learn to protect them. But until you can't, find comfort in the fact that those bullies have a very special place in the playground of hell.

*Kids, do not punch your classmates in the face.

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PS: I would like to send virtual hugs to those who are being bullied and have no idea how to protect their own playground as of the moment. *HUG*

Unspoken Words and Loud Thoughts

"You seem like a robot sometimes," someone recently told me. He could have added, "You're also rigid and unapproachable," but I told him I already knew what he meant.

It's the second time someone's called me a "robot". A robot who just does her job at work and nothing more. A robot who finds it difficult to make friends because she fears she might lose her authority. A robot who sometimes prefers to be feared than be liked.

I couldn't decide what to feel when I was called a "robot" for the second time. It seemed inaccurate and misunderstood. I think it's funny that at my first job, their major gripe about me is that I was too nice.

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I'm starting to get overwhelmed with the future. I feel it slowly come up to me while I consistently run away from it. I'm afraid that one day, without warning, it'll finally catch up to me. Ready to slap me in the face.

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One thing you probably should know about me is that I was raised to be extremely independent. "When someone offers you something, always politely say no even if you want it," my mom would tell me. This applied to candies, chocolates, food in general, assistance of any kind, etc. My mom is the kind of person who worked really hard on her own for what she has right now.

When I got a bit older, I realized that I was able to turn the independence my mom taught me into something else. I became a good actor. Even if I needed food, I always acted full. Even if I needed help, I always acted like I have it all in control. Even if someone was showing me care, I always acted like I didn't need it.

When I got a lot older, it turned into something else again. It turned into pride. I would exhaust all my efforts before asking for help. Just thinking of needing someone or something else, made me feel weak. I turned into someone who couldn't see the difference between sympathy and love so when one of them is given to me, I'm not able to decipher which is which.

One of my best friends told me that the reason why I didn't have "someone" is because I didn't need one. Or at least it seems like I didn't need one. "People like to be needed sometimes. It makes them feel good about themselves," he said.

So the next time you offer me coffee, beer, or assistance of any kind, I will turn my brain off, take a deep breath, smile, and just say, "Yes, please. Thank you."

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I have a very good imagination. That's why I prefer books rather than movies. I think that's also why I prefer you far away than with me here.

I've conjured up a picture of you in my head. I'm scared that if I see you everyday, I'll find out that the picture doesn't resemble you at all.

Oh, but the thought of having you with me everyday puts a huge smile on my face.