Sunday, June 30, 2013

Beauty is on the outside

A couple of days ago, I came across a Russian commercial that awakened my interest straightaway. Basically, the story goes as follows: a handsome young man from a lower class falls promptly in love with this goddess at his workplace. He goggles her from afar -- and she does not look at him once, not even when he nonchalantly tries to approach her. As if he was just air, she remains indifferent and continues with her errands. Then, the commercial moves to that man taking a shopping spree. He cleans up real nice, casual suit and all, finds a suave ride -- a black BMW X5 I reckon -- and runs into her in the streets 'by chance' again. This time, the gorgeous woman gives him the time of day: she climbs into his slick BMW and he invites her to some fine dining in some fancy restaurant. They have a blast; laughing and flirting. She is charmed, throws in the towel and decisively spends the night with him. The next day, she cannot wipe that grin off her face and when she suddenly faces him at the office once more, she simply cannot believe her eyes: he is the man she rejected the day before, he is the man she was smitten with the night before. 

Now when I got to read the comments on this particular advertisement, my first observation is of course the non-surprise of the massive wave of opinionated and negative remarks:  "That is the reality, boys!" "Money can buy you love", "A pity that there are still so many women like that", "This speaks for itself! Women only look at the wallet", "That bitch deserves to be duped", "This is a lesson for all the women who are superficial and conceited", "I doubt that there are people who look at inner beauty alone!" Evidently, these statements promptly got me into thinking.

We live in a society these days in which inner beauty is acclaimed: men and women are encouraged by thousands of inspirational messages on a daily basis, our monthly magazines perpetually coerces us to embrace ourselves and we regularly receive a confidence boost from our own surrounding as well: the family, the friends, the person who shares our life and the occasional friendly person who pays us a pleasant compliment. We hope for a person to love us for who we are. Like Eddie "Prince Akeem" Murphy beckons in Coming to America (1988): "When I marry, I want the woman to marry me for who I am, not because of what I am." In that light, it means that if we were stripped down to our inner assets, the coveted one would love us still -- just like Lisa McDowell fell in love with Akeem when she thought he was a simple goat herder.  In point of fact, we are taught that attractiveness depends on personality and intelligence; on values and spirit; on ethos and a smile. And if we master a good character -- everything else is secondary: looks, weight, background, the past and naturally, how much money we have in the bank account.

Nevertheless, as it is demonstrated in that Russian commercial, reality appears to be a different story entirely. It is a walking contradiction to what we are instructed; it is a rebuttal of what we ourselves desire. Men (and maybe women even more so?) will examine the looks, the weight, the car, the social circumstances and of course, the wallet before showing even the slightest interest in getting to know someone better. One could ask him/herself, does it truly all come down to the uniform? A jumpsuit versus a suit? In essence, the man she rejected and the man who was to her liking are one: same face, same body, same personality, the exact same person. Or... is that really the case?

Do not misunderstand me, I am not one to profess that wallet and body hold more prestige than soul. I highly concur with the saying that looks may attract someone at first, but it is personality that will keep two people together. Without an ounce of doubt, inner beauty wins over the outer one, every time, in all cases, in each relationship. However, and I might be butchered for saying this, I strongly disagree with two matters. For one, let us be honest, looks matter -- especially at first sight at the very least. And I do not regard this as being narrow-minded at all; but it is irrefutable that our conception of beauty relies on eyes at the beginning. We walk into a cafe, a bar, a club; what we look out for is looks. We develop celebrity crushes just by scanning films, music videos and pictures; we do the same when we stroll around town. True to form, it might be shabby to bank on physical assets alone, but we must insist that who or what we consider beautiful is not a pivotal affair. Physical appearance does matter because aesthetics are appealing -- as straightforward as that.
Furthermore, and more importantly, the truth about looks is more than point-blank, physical features; it is also how one presents him/herself. Taking the proper time to groom oneself, giving importance to diet and exercise, defining one's own (fashion) style is definitely a reflection of the inner persona. Fact is, in any given situation, I have noticed that the most attractive person is not necessarily the 'classic, pretty' face by model standards as we would assume; but the most striking will be the one who is confident about what s/he looks like -- no matter what our idea of beauty is. In addition, I always have the impression that a person grows more lovely the more I get to know them -- because who they are is written on their face and body. So the physique is essential: it is not the full package, that is established, but reality is we do come in a package and it is okay to like it, to work on it, to nourish it.

On a second note, the claim that money does not make any kind of difference at all is pure fiction. Because the thing about money -- and people with such comments as the ones I mentioned above do not automatically take this aspect into consideration -- is that (good) money is tied to education, ambition, perseverance, dedication or hard work. In the commercial, when one looks closely, as soon as the young man exchanged the jumpsuit for a suit -- he radiated more assertiveness. Then, to answer my question earlier, he might have the same face, the same body, the same personality but it is not the same person: he gained another quality i.e. confidence. There is room for improvement -- an economic one for starters, and the rest follows. Times have changed, today's culture is different. Compared to perhaps just fifty years ago, we must certainly not descend from a wealthy family to become prosperous. We make our own fortune. There are countless examples of success stories -- and none of them happened without hard work, or still thrive  because of hard work. In actual fact, society today allows any man to dream bigger. Thus, that aspiration is not an impossible task. The educational system is not simply a privilege for the rich, but for the one who is eager to study in order to 'turn out well'. Next, the best positions with 'better' salaries are accessible if one puts in the blood, sweat and tears. We can climb the economic ladder if we give ourselves the chance to do so. It could be that some might have it 'easier' than others, still, any one of us can ignite his potential.
Yes, as a predictable consequence, a wealthier man will have -- or at least, can afford -- a better ride, a better attire, will taste better wine and will attract, effectively, more women. Simultaneously, though, it is again crucial to note that in the process, that man will obtain a greater level of self-confidence due to his self-made status. As a counterpart, I am convinced that women who want affluent men is not only because they crave luxury and that is the only thing they count on when a man seduces them; but it is because these men ooze boldness and personal drive -- which, I am assured of, are fantastic character traits we must praise. Sure, being treated like a queen comes with the territory; yet women who look for that advantage in men are not incontrovertibly gold diggers. And it is not a shame for women, successful themselves, to demand bigger things, fancy things, and aspire to live the pseudo good life. What is so wrong with being drawn to men who can provide (enough/more) security? This avowal is in no way to degrade people from a lower class, but I often feel that devaluing the power of money is not the right thing to do either. We always claim that men who have money do not need to put extra 'effort' into seducing women because they have the money -- but that is complete and utter nonsense. It is like saying that these are people without personality -- which is as wrong as affirming that those with less money are the sole ones with good character. Once more, money is closely linked to excellent facets such as having motivation and endurance. It is more than men being able to supply the 'right' things; earning (enough) money is a mirror of someone's willpower. In the end, the myth of men with money -- or women only hoping for a man with money -- is more than what lies on the surface.

In conclusion, whether we admit it or not, we will agree that beauty, inner and outer, as well as size of the wallet are key factors in the game of seduction and love. To which extent these things matter to someone is, then, a question of narrow-mindedness (or openness). Who we are triumphs -- it always has and always will --; whether  it applies to the (wo)men we seek or ourselves we aim to please. All we can do is play with the cards God has given us; and try to better ourselves constantly: our physical appearance reflects our inner beauty; and our inner beauty reflects on our physique (Just smile and see what happens in terms of testing your appeal!). Important to note is that inner and outer beauty are never contradictions - they collaborate. At the end of the day, we are a package -- a full package -- that we must (learn to) accept, love and/or work on. Then, when we get to love, well, we do love the full package as well, don't we?

Thursday, June 27, 2013


You say one thing
But mean another
I feign a nod
Because I know
What you aspire

You keep by the rules
I use all the right tools
We play it carefully
Though we already
Share this affinity

We do not have
To pretend
By now
We are on the same

We say one thing
But we mean another
Such a farce 
Because we both know
We are untruthful

The beauty of
This deceit
Is that we are 
Of the truth
Behind it

It is a lie
That we need not
The truth about
You and I
Being coy is that
You are crazy
About me
And the other way

We say one thing
But our eyes intend

And the heavenly feeling

We are both liars;
The two of us 
Telling the same fib
To one another
Then quite frankly,
At the core of the
Were we not telling 
The truth
All along?

Sunday, June 23, 2013


If it had never happened
Would I have eventually
Ended up here?
A safe haven
Daydream feelings
Knowing exactly who I am
And where I am going

Encircled by the people
I cannot go on a day
Without thinking about;
Living in a city
I adorn and that I
Will not ever leave behind

Weary of explaining myself
I still work on embracing myself
The journey I have set in
Losing it, finding it,
Exploring still, my inkling

Never losing, always winning

If it never happened
My writing would be different
But as of now
Every tingling in my body says
Me, myself and I are happy
Maybe things happen, unluckily
Yet I learned to make the things
I want
Happen eventually.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

My book

Go on and open it
My diary
My book of
If you will.
For you
Nothing is hidden
And forthcoming
Every feeling
Is plain-spoken.
You will read it
If you do
You will 
Most likely
Each verse
As a fountain
Of goodness
Each one
A hunk of
My book is
Yours to read
For you and
You alone 
To study, 
To pore over 
 And be absorbed in;
You will
Is as sincere
As it is;
 I have not
Sprinkled anything
Nothing is
I have no
To gild.
My book is
Yours to read
An open book
To you only.
This is
My diary,
My book of
For you and
You alone
To see.

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Every song is about you

It may be in the beat

Here I am thrumming
As I concentrate on
The lyrics

Grinning and
Almost convinced

Artists were thinking
Of us while writing.

It is more than those
Love declarations

It is also the ones
With a message that
Is not dead on

I have the microphone
Hitting every note

Where I am punching
The air

I do not turn a hair
When that is all
I ought to do
Sing along
And dance moves
I want to share.

I have a playlist
All day long
Volume louder
Earphones on

Music is
The mediator
Between my heart
And yours;

Every song I hear
I think of you

Not just love songs
Not pop, jazz,
Rap nor techno

Every song
I think of you
Every song is
About you

You are
Every genre

You are my

Thursday, June 13, 2013


When is soon too soon
A blow away 
From popping 
The balloon
Or am I waiting 
Too long
Because I am
Anxious to reveal
Where my emotions

I doubt 
It is right
But I have
Been feeling 
Quite alright
I take a photograph
And I am curious
What happens to 
The negative 
When exposed 
To light
Too soon?

I listen to her

I listen to my mother
Because she knows me
Better than
I will ever know myself
She will describe how I feel
No matter what situation
I am in
She reads me
Without ever
She senses what is best
Because my fleeing heart
Was always hers to protect
Now she listens to me
I have come to an age
Where my words are
An extension of her script
Tables are not turned
But I am her mirror
And I want her to treasure
That all I have done
Is for her
I listen to her, my mother
And she listens to my word
My sun and moon,
Our beating hearts
Yesterday and
Evermore in tune.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Connecting dots

Propelled to 
Another time

Sparked off

By a sound
The song
In the background

Stirred up
Digging up 
Old photos 

A whiff of perfume
My memories
In fume

Moments past
Each time 
I taste that pie

Another pats me
The same way
Calling to mind
What you used to say;

Some things
Become off limits
Affluent in 
Spots in the 
A minefield

Memories have
A way to kill
The present day
Dragged downhill

Then at times
I wonder
Why things I love
Are marred

Not everywhere
You left a mark
It is I that 
Allowed you 
To linger
In my light 

Connecting dots
When there are none
Connecting dots
That do not belong

I cease to be
Some settings
Are not affixed

Here I am
Once again
In front of
The same same

But I beam 

For the best
Way to get rid of
Is to create 
New ones

That only I
Get to freeze. 

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Broken glass

I dreamt of broken glass
A paper thin cut
And a bleeding heart
It pains to endure
An imaginary wound
I stay sound asleep
But the torment is real

I sense a kiss 
On my cheek
Am I dreaming 
Or is this really happening
I cannot tell 
The difference
My eyes are kept shut
Or I am here to wake up

I squeeze my soul
Then, I am sure
I am dreaming 
And I am realizing 
This exquisite dream

Everything is quiet
My heart is playing

 For once
I am synchronized
A rarity I highly prize
Your soft kiss
On my cheek
Suddenly a potential
Of gluing back 
This broken piece. 

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Tip of the tower

I cannot believe
I have not noticed before
When you have been
Right there all along
Every waking hour
Never mind the weather
I stand in front of you
In that silence of reflection
There is a token so true.

And I thought I had seen it all
Studied every single detail like my
Favorite painting on the wall
Then out of the blue,
When the color of the sky
Was everything but blue
Gawking at me
The tip of the tower
The tallest one in the city
Hovering over my shoulder.

It is ravishing, and a riddle
How I failed to spot it
Up until this second
And it struck me
I had been fortunate
Without ever minding it
Having had this view
Whenever I wanted.

Perhaps therein lies the mystery
Life filled with eye-openers
Even in the midst of certainty
Yet for all one knows
You are able to see
Clearly; only once you are
Truly ready.

Life piles up,
Each detail
Already beautiful
But such a different sight
A better one, that is right
After it dawns on you
The top of the tower is
Shedding the appropriate light,
Regardless how long it took
For you to figure out.

Now I see;
And I appreciate it
Much more lately
Perhaps because
Now I am ready.

You are the
Cherry on my sundae
The one that makes
My life landscape
More poignant
More significant
With each passing day.