Society in general set up criteria on which we as members are defined.
Philosophers, thinkers and even the detritus of our community muse on what is the definition of person. Take note that I am using the word person instead of a more dramatic noun "man". That is because I am a woman and I am trying to make a more politically correct piece.
Let me start on our conception. We are measured by the inconvenience we gave our mother, so much so that we are compared to our siblings in terms of how much nauseuos mornings, cravings, moodiness and unwanted weight gain we exacted on our host ( our mother, of course) during the time of pregnancy.
During our first foray in the outside world, we are measured on how much we weigh ( she/he is a big baby 20 pounds) , gushed our parents, the fracas brought about by our wailing and how long and painful the labor pains are. This is used often by our mother to send us on the familiar guilt trip. Statements like " It was 32 hours of labor pain and this is what I get from you? Ingrate!" are to be expected.
On our toddler years, we are measured on our cuteness, precociousness and inordinate antics like picking our turds and mistaking it as M & M's candies. The latter will surely be etched on the annals of our family history and the story would be repeated on every concievable opportunity by our parents to our relatives and even to a total strangers without regard to our future reputation.
We are gauged on the number of smiley faces, stars , ribbons (of all shapes and colors), thropies, every imaginable recitals, sport activities ranging from football (it does not matter if you have severe case of asthma half the time) to swimming ; on our early schooling. We are not even counting the apples you left on your teachers table - probably its almost equivalent to the apple harvest in Washington State.
High school raises up the ante even more. We are assessed on the number of boyfriends and girlfriends, party invitations, kisses, tyrsts, acne and zits. These definitions will probably spill over to our univesity days but in a more daring and life altering ways. We are measured by the type of school we are attending even if it will cost us 5 years of our life paying for it after graduating. Or we can opt to live our life as a perpetual bum at this stage, backpacking in Pattaya or work with Ronald ( McDonald , who else) thru the rest of our adult life. Told you its life altering.
The moment we entered the work force, we are calibrated on the salary we earn ,type of car we drive, reputation of the company we are slaving for and how good we are in kissing whoever ass there is to hobnob with just to climb the corporate ladder.
When we enter the marital life, the kind of partner we took, the progeny, financial stature, number of your mini me became the basis of what you are. Especially for a woman, we are defined by our husband's career and children's achievements.
Till the day we meet our maker, the body count in your funeral somehow becomes the yardstick of what kind of a person we are. It had been the impression that the more people in attendance to your last public party, the better human being you are supposed to be. What if you owe half of these people money and they just want to make sure you are really gone, will that count. Who are we to know?
My take on this is this. We are all uniquely different and espousing a set of evaluations in the way we conduct our lives is futile, its all relative. Personally, I would like to be defined by how many people I truly and honestly made happy in my lifetime. I may not be able to take an accurate tally on this. I may not personally know some of these people, it could be the child I smiled at in the mall, telemarketer that I entertained in the phone offering me the evil credit cards, checkout girl which i helped bagged my groceries or telling my husband how young he looks in his new Levis jeans. Small and sometimes insignificant gestures.
Of course this is cant be compared if someone gifted me a Bugatti Royale Coupe , that's a different story all together. Then I wouldn't mind being defined by the car I drive.
Philosophers, thinkers and even the detritus of our community muse on what is the definition of person. Take note that I am using the word person instead of a more dramatic noun "man". That is because I am a woman and I am trying to make a more politically correct piece.
Let me start on our conception. We are measured by the inconvenience we gave our mother, so much so that we are compared to our siblings in terms of how much nauseuos mornings, cravings, moodiness and unwanted weight gain we exacted on our host ( our mother, of course) during the time of pregnancy.
During our first foray in the outside world, we are measured on how much we weigh ( she/he is a big baby 20 pounds) , gushed our parents, the fracas brought about by our wailing and how long and painful the labor pains are. This is used often by our mother to send us on the familiar guilt trip. Statements like " It was 32 hours of labor pain and this is what I get from you? Ingrate!" are to be expected.
On our toddler years, we are measured on our cuteness, precociousness and inordinate antics like picking our turds and mistaking it as M & M's candies. The latter will surely be etched on the annals of our family history and the story would be repeated on every concievable opportunity by our parents to our relatives and even to a total strangers without regard to our future reputation.
We are gauged on the number of smiley faces, stars , ribbons (of all shapes and colors), thropies, every imaginable recitals, sport activities ranging from football (it does not matter if you have severe case of asthma half the time) to swimming ; on our early schooling. We are not even counting the apples you left on your teachers table - probably its almost equivalent to the apple harvest in Washington State.
High school raises up the ante even more. We are assessed on the number of boyfriends and girlfriends, party invitations, kisses, tyrsts, acne and zits. These definitions will probably spill over to our univesity days but in a more daring and life altering ways. We are measured by the type of school we are attending even if it will cost us 5 years of our life paying for it after graduating. Or we can opt to live our life as a perpetual bum at this stage, backpacking in Pattaya or work with Ronald ( McDonald , who else) thru the rest of our adult life. Told you its life altering.
The moment we entered the work force, we are calibrated on the salary we earn ,type of car we drive, reputation of the company we are slaving for and how good we are in kissing whoever ass there is to hobnob with just to climb the corporate ladder.
When we enter the marital life, the kind of partner we took, the progeny, financial stature, number of your mini me became the basis of what you are. Especially for a woman, we are defined by our husband's career and children's achievements.
Till the day we meet our maker, the body count in your funeral somehow becomes the yardstick of what kind of a person we are. It had been the impression that the more people in attendance to your last public party, the better human being you are supposed to be. What if you owe half of these people money and they just want to make sure you are really gone, will that count. Who are we to know?
My take on this is this. We are all uniquely different and espousing a set of evaluations in the way we conduct our lives is futile, its all relative. Personally, I would like to be defined by how many people I truly and honestly made happy in my lifetime. I may not be able to take an accurate tally on this. I may not personally know some of these people, it could be the child I smiled at in the mall, telemarketer that I entertained in the phone offering me the evil credit cards, checkout girl which i helped bagged my groceries or telling my husband how young he looks in his new Levis jeans. Small and sometimes insignificant gestures.
Of course this is cant be compared if someone gifted me a Bugatti Royale Coupe , that's a different story all together. Then I wouldn't mind being defined by the car I drive.
Comments
Post a Comment