Unacceptable and Unconventional in an Utterly Offensive Way

020806

Ewan.

Just before going to bed this morning, I had an unfortunate chance to view the nastiest blog entry ever written. Upon waking after 5 hours, I got another request to alter my Friendster account (so as not to offend immediate family relations).

The number of friends I have accumulated in years with that site didn't matter at all. But the writing I voluntarily and unconditionally invested there kept my sanity for some days of manic depression and caffeine-nicotine deprivation.

For the record, as a blogger, I have never used that site to spite GOOD people to prickle my readers' attention and convince them that besides being a mother of two, I am also, in fact, able to write and publish (in the web) anything that comes to mind. It is my expression of thoughts and preoccupations in random. Thoughts and preoccupation that are often perceived as those mentioned on the title.

I will not debate on that and waste the few neurons that I have if it wasn't for this day.
But today, I had a difficulty writing and working without first doing myself some justice.

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UNACCEPTABLE - /adj./ not worthy of being accepted.
Since my parents called it quits about 20 years ago or so, I stopped aiming to be acceptable in all contexts. Let me point this out:

- As a child, I was raised in a traditional Lola way but was a natural whiner. It wasn't about longing for acceptance per se, but I was always seeking to be heard, to express what and how I felt even to a point that I had to get more spanking than my older sibling, Margaux.
The regular dose of pain I got from being such a 'smart mouth' at age 5 brought two glorious things: ASSERTIVENESS and an ABOVE LEVEL PAIN THRESHOLD. The latter was very useful on the two deliveries that I went through. Dr. Sese, my OB-GYNE, amicably advised me not to enjoy procreating too much because of this comfort. I only have two little devils in my closet and that's all I need forever.

- The high school days were tougher to survive on the 'acceptance' aspect.
It was a time that girls had to wear skirts up to their ankles and well-ironed uniforms, brought hankies to cover a heartfelt laugh, giggled more and fluttered eyelashes vigorously, cried when teased by the opposite sex, and maintained a Long Straight Black Shiny Hair (LSBSH phenomenon) that they had to brush a hundred times - no more, no less - before they hit the sack at night.

True. Teen years are the hardest to cope up with but only for those who tried and managed to belong - to what or where, I had no idea. Imagine the struggle that they had to go through - keeping up with personal and social issues at one time.

My uniform at that time was in accordance to school standards - exactly two inches below the
knee and was always kept clean and fresh from the laundry. That was more important than having it well-ironed with liston. The hanky must-have issue was more for a practical reason. But for four dear years in high school I must've lost about as much as what you can see in SM City's Department Store.

I laughed (I still do now) for anything funny that comes my way, covering a laughter with a hanky will only make me gag. (Beyond death, if there is such, I want to haunt my school with a thunderous laughter. Damn. That even gives me the creeps.) But then, giggling was never a part of my teen activities. I am more of the smirk-snort type. I didn't flutter eyelashes as most would. I usually raise an eyebrow and roll my eyes.

I cried many times then but that was out of frustration that I couldn't get a hold of anything solid to pitch and get back at people. It was more of crying in frustration because I couldn't get even than of self-pity.

Although I am guilty of the LSBSH phenomenon, but less than 24 hours after high school graduation I cut my hair so short, as if I said: Finally, it was all over.
Nobody probably even remembered nice and me in high school. Nice, let me say is a polite form of saying: "I can't say anything beyond four-letter words." or "I suck at spelling and that's the farthest I could go to describe you."

But those who thought I wasn't 'nice and all that spice" are still good friends of mine until now and hopefully after years after. I have imagined all of us in years after today, all with the 'gurang card', buying beer for less 20% and enjoying a session in Golden Acres. Isn't it fun?
After high school, being unacceptable was a lot easier to pull off. It was an IDGAD phase. (I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!)

There were hundreds of opportunities to find life's worth beyond social acceptance. I will mention only two that I could deeply give credit for: 1) CMLI - requires a functional brain that is capable of creative and critical thinking, two hands and feet, and a personality that can go without days of sleep. 2) Four years in BA Anthropology - gave me a better understanding of Social Acceptance in context to the culture to which I belong - by nature and through nurture.
The years spent working for research institutions, individuals and NGOs for someone as deviant as I am turned out to be a nightmare. Years of living with social autism in a career supposedly geared for a so noble cause beyond oneself - poverty alleviation, had me thinking that being acceptable is not as indispensable with the efficiency that one can do at work.

You work 24/7 but at the end of it all only the times you had lunch with co-workers, walked home with them, listened to their problems, attended outings and parties with them, the number of forwarded messages you send them and so and so will tip the scale more. I failed on that department. I have always believed that Work and Personal Life should always be two separate realms. Overlaps may happen, but not as much as I can avoid it.

As UNACCEPTABLE as I am, I enjoyed the privilege of speaking my mind, however utterly offensive that can be. So I'd say, I QUIT!

Truly, I am perceived as unconventional as well. That's something as old as I probably am. But let me ask: WHOSE CONVENTIONS ARE WE TAKING INTO ACCOUNT HERE?

Conventions are sanctioned by general customs, but are not as always absolute. My unconventionality has never in any way been sloshed to anyone for any reason - AT ALL.
THERE IS NO ABSOLUTE MORAL REALITY.