Saturday, March 12, 2005

Something Special

She ain't too pretty, she ain't too tall,
In fact she ain't too much of anything at all.
I don't care what the people say,
They're going to find out some sweet day.

She is precious, she is charming,
She is so innocent it's really disarming.
And just one look at her face is good enough for me
.
- Eric Clapton, Something Special
I don't understand the concept of being special that preoccupies most women today.

I don't understand that craving for a carpet of luscious red roses or a fey, dreamy and ephemeral wedding nor the preoccupation with the so-called bad boys.

Indeed, I prefer my life and love grounded in reality. Indeed, just as the romantic encompass the impractical, I am the paradigm of all things practical and thus unromantic.

I don't need someone else declare to the world that I am special. Especially not with an irrational frivolous use of wealth. I would rather have two books than a dozen or roses that wilt within a week.

I don't need to feel unique in the sea of hoi polloi. I am unique. I have always been different. I didn't choose to be different. I just am.

Most people feel the need to fit in -- try to be nice to everyone, do the things they are expected to do, say the things they are expected to say and even ask the same stock questions about life to give it a philosophical edge. They are the trend followers. Some try to break out of the trend. Most emerged different but in the same manner. They are different within a limit of tolerance. Of course those who go beyond that have probably gone to a madhouse.

The trend followers have become so efficient at fitting in, that their sense of self is threatened. They start to question if they are really a result of their externalities and experience what is now known as a mid-life crisis. In their attempt to seek for the internal source that powers their selves, the need for individuality and uniqueness is roused.

Unable to subjectively evaluate internal evidence with any conviction, they seek outward confirmation.

Advertisers sensing this need, latches on and stokes it. One prime example of that is the DeBeers "Diamonds are forever" campaign. While diamonds are indeed the hardest substance on earth, it really doesn't have much intrinsic value. When push comes to shove, it is just a pretty rock. The reason why diamonds are expensive is demand exceeds supply and Debeers which has a monopoly in the diamond industry can easily squeeze the supply to a trickle.

To increase the demand for their commodity, their advertising campaign sets out to convince people that diamond rings are a necessity for a betrothal. In the pre-"Diamonds are forever" age, engagement rings are not iced. As we can see, their campaign was a success.

Thus love, invariably linked with diamonds, now comes with a dollar valuation. To clarify, I'm not saying that love can be bought with money. What we are seeing in society is that people are expected to express love with irrational use of money.

The story usually goes like this: A man loves a woman so much that he is willing to irrationally pay a hefty price on trifles like a pretty stone in order to please her. The woman, upon learning that there is one who love her so deeply, feels that surely she must be unique and special in some way and her self-doubts are assuaged.

Because I am different, I do not feel the need for irrationality. If lavished with such attention, I think I would feel burdened. Such extravagant waste would disgust me. But because I am different, I find that most people do not understand my lack of need. They see it as justification for not receiving. I just laugh at their small little world.

Sometimes, it is difficult to not be understood. Sometimes, I almost wish I was not different. Not caring about fitting in leaves me in the orbit of society. I maintain my anti-social stance, afraid that one day, I will laugh in their faces and receive cold uncomprehending stares.

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