The Revenge of the Geeks

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Which Side Are You On?

I just watched the midnight premiere screening of Captain America: Civil War. This is not a review. But, let me tell you. Before that, I just came home from a 16-hour flight. I was awake for more than 24 hours before that. On top of that, I was sleeping at the couch of the local CBTL while waiting for the cinema doors to open.

There was not one dull moment. My eyes were glued to the screen and my heart was doing somersaults. I went home after and I could not get it out of my head.

In short, if you have not watched it yet then go take a hint and please do.

Again, this is not a Civil War review. As I was saying I while ago, I did some late night, post-adrenaline thinking at four in the mourning with my plans on getting back on some shut eye too far from reach.

This is what I thought about then.

I may have made the connotation that Civil War is a great movie. (Honestly, why are you still reading this? Go watch it!) So, a group of exquisitely talented people made that movie possible. This group was funded by a company composed of people who believed in their concept. This company is inspired by the colorful literature that the movie was based upon. (Read it. Seriously. Oh and bring some tissues with you when you do.)

I just thought of what kind of people were they when they were younger. Who were they when they did not have these fancy job titles connected to their names? I just thought. They were geeks.

They were the ones described in cartoons as the kids wearing those thick-rimmed glasses. They were the ones with braces. They were the ones wearing ridiculously pristinely ironed clothes. They were the ones who knows the subject matter better than the teacher. They were the ones who live in their parent’s basement because he spends more time there in front of the computer or the train set than anywhere else in the house. They were the ones being locked inside their own lockers. They were the ones secluded by the group. They were the ones being bullied.

I always say to my friends that this is a great era to be a nerd or a geek or whatever you choose to describe yourself if you relate to this on a personal level. All this awesome popcorn movies, all the amazing technology, all the advancements could not be possible if it were not for those former youngsters who get more wedgies than kisses.

This era is the revenge. I always say that kids nowadays are lucky because smart has become the new sexy (finally). Proclaim that you are a fan of Harry Potter or of Marvel or of Game of Thrones and you will receive appraisal and you would even be more than glad to find a group that shares the same interest as you. Do that in my time and you would have received weird looks and no hope to find your kind.

Yes, this is the revenge of the geeks. This is their superhero story wherein they rise from the turmoil that came with growing up in such condition. They used their abilities to save people and to promote the greater good. They have saved future generations of geeks from experiencing the same fate as what they had experienced. They promoted acceptance and unity everywhere.

I raise my glass/goblet/mug/flute/horn (just choose depending on your fandom) to the geeks. For without them, there will be no Microsoft. There will be no Apple. There will be no Facebook. There will be no Naruto. There will be no Marvel. There will be no hoverboards. There will be no Internet.

So, if you are being shunned and excluded because you are passionate about something that is not the norm of your environment then have patience, work hard and do not fear. Your revenge will come.

This Fasting Could Not Get Any Faster

Lent is finally over and the Holy Week just passed. For the past season, I have refrained myself from eating meat.
Yes, I am a Christian, a Roman Catholic Christian. I find it disturbing how in description that Catholics are separate from Christians, no matter if it may be Protestant, 7th-day Adventist, or whatever. It is in the name. I am a Christian. Anyway…

So, on religious custom, I am not allowed to eat meat on every Friday during the Lenten season.

I have refrained myself from eating rice fir the past two years except for the cravings that happen once or twice in six months. See, I am a Filipino. Rice to is is like burgers to the Americans or noodles to the Japanese. I have stopped eating rice since I started to work and that is an incredible feat in the opinion of other Filipinos. I was always a bread and potato person so it was not that hard a shift.

Anyway, for Lent, I was required not to eat meat during Fridays. Red meat. Chicken and fish is fine. I thought of the task too easy since the idea of fasting is to experience some discomfort in order to appreciate the sacrifice that the Messiah did for us when he died on the cross. Thus, I decided on a no red meat and chicken diet on Friday.

It was a bit hard since chicken can be found everywhere and not all establishment serve fish or vegetables. Then at home, meat will be served so I could not eat. Still, it was just once a week so it was fine.

Then Holy Week came.
I decided to make things harder for me and have a no meat diet for the whole seven days. I would just have fish, seafood, and vegetables.

That was when things got hard.
I had a working layover to Melbourne, Australia. I arrived there on Palm Sunday and left on Holy Wednesday. I was in Australia, the land of Hungry Jacks, Angus Beef, Lord of the Fries, and all things moo. And I decided to go to a no-meat diet. I was doomed.

To make things short, by the end of the layover, I was hungry, cranky, and cravy (craving actually, I just want to keep the rhyme) for my mom’s home cooking.

Yet, I still have three more days. By Monday, I requested for chicken barbeque for lunch.

It was hard to live without meat. For all those who are following a specific diet (e.g. vegan, gluten-free, paleo, etc.) for religious, personal, health, or whatever reason, I salute you for your discipline and perseverance. Now, leave me as I devour this rib-eye steak.

Pride and Joy

I have been spending most of my time in my bedrooom lately.

I have rearranged my things for three times already. I have cleaned out my made up desk (which is actually just a small table at the foot of my bed since I do not really have a proper desk) of junk and whatnot. Then, I decided that it would be a bother for me to actually use that desk since it was so low that I had to sit on the floor to use it. In the end, I just stashed all of my writing and art stuff underneath my bed. Don’t fret. I put them in boxes before I did that.

There is also that bookshelf of mine. It is huge. It is taller than me even. But, with my increasing Pop! figure collection, fandom (especially Harry Potter) memorabilia, current book collection (I think 250+ already, have not counted it yet), and those medical books that my mom had that I could not dispose, it became too small to accommodate my needs. I have been thinking of rearranging the whole thing. Sometimes, I just look at it and I get relaxed.

All of my prized physical possessions are in that bedroom. I stumbled upon a question in The Daily Prompt. What is your prized possession? I just could not answer right away. So, I rephrased it. If there would be a fire, what one thing would I carry to safety with me?

Common sense tells me that I would bring my phone. Contacts, photos, documents, and all of my records are in it. Yet, I would not say that my phone is my prized possession. I could have any kind of phone and the purpose would be the same. For me, a prized possession is something that I could not just part with even if it failed to stand the test of time.

My mind drifted to the Elder Wand replica that my brother got me as a college graduation gift. It was my first Harry Potter memorabilia. I have been a fan since the first movie came out. I was not even 10 years old then. I thought it too petty to treasure such a thing so I tried thinking of other things.

Most people would answer something like an old family photo. Or perhaps a signed ball. Or maybe an old note. I do not need to keep an old family photo. My grandfather’s death confirmed that. I do not need a reminder of what they look like. I do not need to be reminder of their impact on my life. I know it just as much as I know my name. I do not have anything that is signed by someone famous. Besides, I do not treasure those kind of things that much. Give me a signed copy of the first Bloomsbury edition of Harry Potter. Trust that it will be taken care of but I would not save it if there would be a fire. Notes? Plenty. They have an impact every time I read one. It brings back emotions and memories long buried. Almost important enough. But not quite. They just make a recall. The initial effect that they had on me has already been instilled into my person.

Back to the wand. Yes, a long piece of molded resin painted and branded. Wow. Let me defend myself.

That wand was the very first gift that I have ever received that I was honestly ecstatic about. My brother had my reaction on record. I was totally amazeballs… Anyway. That wand actually came with a letter…

Now is the time for you to make your dreams come true. But it won’t be easy. Hard work, belief, faith. And one day, life will surprise you. You’ll be living the dream. May this remind you that they come true.

That wand was the embodiment of that letter. It was a promise that the future is magical and I have the power to wield it as how I pleased. I felt powerful whenever I held that wand not because I imagined it to be the actual Elder Wand (but it would be soooo cool if it was) but because I felt that I am the captain of my life. I can cast any spell on it and swish the wand around to spread the magic on my existence and on others as well. I can manipulate anything with my actions and decisions. I can do anything and everything will change. Wielding the most powerful wand in the world is great possibility. The power that I can possess will not only affect me but also others as well. I cannot just think of myself. I have to care for what my power would do to others. For it may be a joy to manipulate others to your whim, it is a greater joy to manipulate the situation to theirs.

That wand is the embodiment of what I am. A mere stick of endless possibilities. That wand is the physicality of what I realized when I first unwrapped that graduation gift. It was okay to be myself. It was okay because the world may say otherwise but those who matter would be there. It was okay to be a nerd or whatever because those people who matter would accept that as that.

That wand is the proof that love is the strongest magic of all. Love is my prized possession.

Look How They Shine

This post is my reply to Daily Post’s Discovery Challenge which is for me to blog about a pique to one of the senses.

So, this is me, naturally, pushing myself to blog something related to one of the hardest senses to describe; hearing. Let me talk about my latest favorite song. Good luck to me…

Guitar strumming

Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.

The interlude is that simple. A four-tap pattern repeated four times in different tempos to make one cycle. Then, the cycle is repeated four times before the lyrics start.

Space. Love. Color.

Act. Love. Color.
Act. Love. Color.

Beauty. Love. Love.

Then the instrumental continues with four beats repeated four times in four cycles. And then the lyrics continue.

Act. Love. Color.
Act. Love. Color.

Beauty. Love. Sacrifice.

That beautiful ‘four’ piece again. Before the closing lyrics.

Space. Love. Space.
Space. Love. Space.

Space. Love.

I love this song as it is a mix of mellow rock sounds with simple romantic words. It is an oxymoron in itself as to how a hard and cold person is capable of expressing something so soft and warm.

The instrumental is simple. The lyrics are simpler as it is actually repetitive but the content is progressive. It shows the gradual intensity of an emotion that was already there. It exhibits the bounds of the emotion. It has none.

The song is an expression of how something can mean so much to a person to the point of making this great and unspeakable. Call it the epitome of cheesy but that is what you get when you look at the stars at night and all you see is the specks of yellow.

The Definition of Love

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies! The Day of Hearts.

Ah, love. That fuzzy feeling when you see your beloved walk by. That butterfly buzzing in your stomach when you feel that kiss coming close. That warmth that devours your whole body after just being held by two hands. Beautiful, isn’t it?

We all know what love is. Even a five-year-old does. My own definition of love is similiar to how Plato would define it in his Symposium. Love is the pursuit of beauty and wisdom. Love is an acronym, actually. (Yeah, I’m going to stick with this. Prepare to be amused.)

L
Learning to desire your whole self.

Don’t you dream waking up every morning and looking at yourself in the mirror and just say ‘Hello, beautiful’ to your reflection? Except, you have that large zit on your forehead. Except that you have that scar that you got from that accident back when you were 13. Except that you have crooked teeth. Except you have that large mole. Except you have that disaligned eye. Except you have those pudgy cheeks. Except you have that slab of skin on the side of your head that is the closest thing that you have to an ear. And that is only your face.

How depressing is that? No wonder you are not a morning person. And you see the folks on TV have perfect faces and bodies. Life is just not fair.

Guess what? No, sorry. Never will life be fair. But it will get better. Look at the mirror again. Look, such long lashes. See those bushy brows that have not need for eyebrow kits? Make-up savings! See that large mole? Look how it leads the eyes to look at your lips. Aren’t you so kissable? Cheeks, smeeks. Did you look at your nose? So cute! Did you get a good look at your eyes lately? Browns, speckled with orange dots and gray lines if you look close enough. Brown that melts whenever your laugh lines show up as you crack that winning smile. Ooh, such a nice tan. Most would covet and achieve that only to grab a high dosage of sunburn. Saw that? Ah, beautiful. And that is only your face.

Learning to accept yourself fully is essential to love. Like I said, life is not fair. Don’t expect it to be. You will have flaws. Sometimes, more visible than others. But, that makes us human. Love is looking for the beauty in things. According to the Scriptures, loving another is parallel to loving oneself. Treat yourself poorly and expect that you will do the same to others. Then again, how can you possibly love yourself if you are three sizes larger than the norm?

To love oneself is a matter of choice. Those flaws are a part of you. Deal with it. Or do something about it. There are liposuction, breast enlargement, nose lift, and many other treatments that you can choose from. Personally, don’t. Change something about your appearance is exactly the same is having someone change something about themselves. Ask your lover to quit their videogaming as if it is quintessential to your love life is exactly the same as having a cosmetic surgery so that you will feel more beautiful. It is unfair. So, does that mean if your lover refuses to ditch the gaming then you will stop loving him? So if you don’t get that nose lift means that you would not find yourself pretty enough? What kind of love is that?

There is nothing wrong with enhancement. Just, try not to change anything that you were born with unless it will affect your health if not dealt with. Go on, say ‘Hey, Beautiful.’

O
Openly seek more about another

Remember when you are attracted to someone and you want to know everything that is to know about them? Likes. Dislikes. Family. Aspirations. Mistakes. Goals. Dreams. Hobbies. Passions. Interests. That is you seeking more of the beauty that you initially saw in that person. That is you seeking more of the wisdom or of what is more to be learned from him. Remember that feeling of being interested in everything that he was trying to say? How thick should a proper stilleto be? What codes should you use when you want to win Warcraft? Why those kind of ties are better than the others? Why that player is the underdog?

Honestly, would you freaking care if another person told you those things? Yet, with that person, it sounded important. It sounded like it mattered. It did matter. To you. To that person. Hallelujah.

With love, normally trivial things sound so beautiful and so important. That story about her being denied the chance to compete? Now, you know why she is so determined. That time when he told you how rude his customers were to him as he served them? No wonder he is so polite. Each story that is being uttered becomes a puzzle piece to his person. You pick up the pieces and fit it in the frame, smiling to yourself as you do. And you find yourself in front of a complete picture full of different pieces. And you found it astoundingly beautiful. And you found yourself pleasantly wiser and fuller as well.

V
Value the moment

There is this one quote in the movie Jupiter Ascending that I find more true than any other movie quote that I have ever heard. The only commodity that really matters is time.

Once it passes, it is gone. And we can only breathe for so long. Relish the present. Look around. Sniff the air. Stare into his eyes. Memorize that smile. Once that moment passes, it is gone and you just have to beg for your memory to retain it. That is what makes love for each person so unique. It is the memories that formed in the relationship. The memories are the differentiation between love for your parents to romantic love.

It is a discipline for most to be mindful of the present. It is an even more difficult discipline to find the positive and the beautiful in every moment even if it is a bad one. The both of you are shouting your mouths off? Hey, he cares enough to be angry. Be afraid of the day that he does not react when you do a mistake. He is sick and your date is cancelled? Guess what, grab that opportunity and bring some soup over and a movie too. Or maybe a video game. Make him better and make him happy. Aren’t you a sweetie?

E
Evolve

Love changes everything. The hard becomes soft. The soft becomes hard. The weak becomes strong. The strong becomes weak. To be in love is to accept that you are changing. You are changing for the better. You are evolving. You are preparing to accommodate more love and to give more love as well.

They say that girls bloom when they are in love. The boys exude more confidence and strength when in love. Love gives motivation a whole new meaning. Love lifts you up. Love makes you do incredible things. You can lift ten thousand men. You can fly around the world. You can beat Superman in armwrestling.

So, love is this incredible drug that makes you evolve and become better faster than any kind of steroid ever can. Love is the search of beauty and wisdom. Once you see it, you consume it until you find yourself beautiful and wise. Once you find love, in yourself and/or in others, you find yourself smiling at your reflection despite having that lump of morning glory clogged at the inner corner of your eye.

That is love. Beautiful and wise.
Now, if you decide to become a lover then you might as well learn the last letter.

R
Relationship Reciprocal

In the English language, adding an -r/-er to a verb makes it a noun that is defined as a doers of the original verb. So, a lover is a doer of love.

So, to be a lover, you need to reciprocate the love that you receive. Hello, congratulations, you are in a relationship. You give. You take. Because, if you do not then you are not a lover. You are just a recipient. A lovee, if there is such a term. And honestly, it will be tragic. No true love is unrequitedly in vain.

Love. Such a beautiful word. Lover. A more beautiful word. Are you in love? Would it be nice if we all were? Not just with someone. But with ourselves as well.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all! Tell me your thoughts. What are your ideas about love?

The Definition of Passion

‘Passion’ is my favorite word in the English language.

I won’t cite a Webster definition. You all know what passion means. So, why am I writing a post about the meaning of passion? Blame CBTL for that. I read a passage from my 2016 journal and there came the thought.

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I fell in love with the word when I was still a college student. Mix intelligence with angst and put a dash of smart mouth and you get yourself a teen that defends everything that he or she thinks was right. That was basically me.

I would prove my point in debates with others to the extent that I sound angry. I would always excuse myself and say that I was not angry and was just passionate about the idea. It was not that I was forcing people to believe me and support my cause. I was more in the context of making them understand what I was coming from.

I pride myself in having a strong set of morals. I cannot be bought easily. I  try my utmost to keep my promises and admit my failure if I did otherwise. I do things on my own. I keep quiet about my achievements. I do not gossip. Do not waste. Family comes first. Those are my unbreakables.

I recall a time when my Management professor asked me if I would seal a deal with a potential business partner which will greatly benefit my business in the long run if I change things according to what they wanted. I remember answering that if it does not stand with my business ethics and morals then I would agree. I was then questioned for sacrificing the sake of my business for a set of morals. I stood my ground. I told him that I would not be bought that easily and I would not sacrifice my loyalties. He called me too young and too idealistic. I was bound to change my mind when I get older and when I get to see how the real world outside the classroom works.

Four years later, I saw how ugly business life could be. I saw what the real world outside the classroom was like. My answer still does not change. Call me too young and too idealistic all you want. I call myself passionate.

I had a male friend who would translate the Filipino word ‘malibog’ into ‘passionate’. As much as I deny to admit, it made some sense but being passionate is more than that. FYI, ‘malibog’ means being erotically-inclined e.g. spilling out green jokes, being all touchy and grope-y, have an interest in anything sexually related blah blah blah.

There is a reason after all why most authors would describe erotic scenes with phrases like ‘and they fell into their incessant passion, a mix of sweat and gasps muffled by flesh and sheets.’ (my words, btw. It is just an example.) Passion is the subject wherein all logic is lost and wherein sense and instinct come in. Obviously, the connection is there.

For me, passion is more. It is so much more. Being passionate comprises the entirety of one’s being. Be passionate about something and all logic flies out of the window. You don’t realize that it happens until your logic comes back through the door and collides with you like a punch to the brain. Yeap, not the skull, the brain.

Ever felt about something so strong that you would do your utmost to keep it and protect it?  Ever felt that your purpose was finally discovered and you would be damned if you just ignore it and walk on as if nothing happened? Ever felt the realization that you would be sacrificing much for something and yet you do it anyway? Ever felt so strongly for something that you would make sure that you achieve it or see your goal accomplished no matter what?

This is not only about love. This is not only about hate. Remember the thin line between those two? That thin line is called passion. Love someone so much that one mistake can send you plummeting back onto solid ground with nothing but resentment. Hate someone so much that you will do much to destroy that person and make sure he is yours. The thin line is a dangerous thing. Cross over and all you know disappears. Things like this can only be found in stories. But is it not reality a story?

Passion keeps you driving to your destination. Passion fuels your body to continue to work. Passion is that nagging feeling that burns in your gut when you do otherwise.

Being passionate is losing regard of your rationality and just relying on your instinct. Once it knows what it wants, it hires rationality back in to help him do its dirty work which is to keep you moving.

I barely make any sense. As I reread this post, I could easily see how my thoughts are scrambled as I try to say everything at once. I guess that is what passion does. It tries everything to get you across.

Passion is my favorite word because it describes me as a person. My pride has saved me countless of times wherein I would make wise and firm decisions just because ‘my pride would not allow myself to do it otherwise’. This is not ‘sin’ pride. This is ‘moral’ pride. It is the offspring of my passion and my sense of morality. Good with a pinch of danger. I sound like a misguided comic book hero.

Once I believe, my intentions would not falter. I would fight to the end. That is passion.

Loss and the English Dictionary

I just visited my uncle’s wake today. He was my father’s brother. It just gave me some thoughts.

I remember writing a short oneshot a few years back about mourning over a family member. I remembered writing it something like this;

People who lost their spouses are called ‘widows’.
Children who lost their parents are called ‘orphans’.
What do you call parents who lost their child?

It is a heartbreaking experience to bury the love of your life or your mom or dad. Yet, everyone has to go through it. It is part of the circle of life.

I believe it is every parent’s worst fear to bury their child. There is this unspeakable loss for the life that you gave. Imagine what a parent must go through? Had he lacked in taking care of the child? Had he did something to ultimately cause the death of their kid? Had he not given enough guidance?

Not everyone will experience that. Yet, it is much more heartbreaking to see the end of the life that you raised. A part of a parent’s soul goes with the child.

I find it quite unfair that there is no proper term in the English language for such a situation. Yet, I could understand why. The pain must be truly unspeakable for most deny it as a possible reality. Then again, a person becomes a parent then it becomes who they are. The loss of the child does not define that. A parent will always be a parent.

I find these thoughts of mine so unprecedented because I am still quite far from being a parent myself. It is my dream though. To be a mother and to be able to conceive children. It is also my fear. To not be able to conceive or worse is to fail at being a parent altogether.

What am I saying here? Just take care of yourselves and give your folks some credit. It is very true when they say that they only want your safety and happiness. For if you suffer, to them it is a fate worst than death.

At The Moment

It has been awhile since I last posted here. I just came from a two-week layover. I am currently suffering from Aerotitis. (Take it from a frequent flyer, people. Never ride an airplane with a cold. It’s murder.) I could not breathe from my nose and I could not hear 70% of what’s happening around me. Besides that, it felt like my face is being drilled by a dozen screwdrivers.

So now that I am back home and away from single digit degree Celsius weather and from a scarcity of meds, I can now finally treat myself. Hurrah!

First of all, I deeply apologize to my Blogmas peeps for not being able to contribute to the challenge. Two, I am also sorry for my prolonged absence. Hopefully I will be able to get back on track soon.

Fingers crossed.. Achoo!
Excuse me.

First Impressions

I spent a day once with a pair of middle-aged male  in London once. One of them, I had flown with before while the other was a good friend of his which was a pilot from our company. I decided to tag along with them when my  expressed his intention to look for a street Tardis. It was rare to find a fellow Whovian in the Philippines let alone in the same company so I decided to go with him. His buddy happily joined us. After successfully finding the Tardis and having other small adventures, we ended the day in the pub near our hotel. You know how pub talk goes. Our topics went from Doctor Who to porn to Star Wars to finding love to the aviation history to meeting new people.

So, why am I bringing this up? The pilot asked me of my first impression of him. I said that I don’t do first impressions. He told me that I should make first impressions especially that I work with different people everyday. It gives a precaution of how I should act towards them.

I asked him what was his first impression of me. He said that he thought that I was an independent woman that does not take ‘no’ for an answer. It apparently showed my age as I was too idealistic and naive to not judge people at first glance. I accepted his answer then he shared to us that most people, especially girls, think of him as a ladies’ man on first sight.

So why am I bringing this up? Earlier today, I read a post by the fantastical Sidney Aldaine about what do people think about when they encounter people for the first time. It reminded me of that incident.

That is exactly why I don’t do first impressions. Grammatically, a first impression is one’s idea on another person based on instinct even with the definite lack of evidence. I don’t do first impression because it is the basest form of judgment.

Judgment is very deadly in forming a relationship with another person. It is unfair to a person who is given a first impression because he is forced to prove the one giving the impression wrong without him knowing it. Because, to be frank, how many times did your first impression become right?

It is in the word itself. Impression. It is like you’re giving the person the task to impress you within the first five seconds of you looking at him. Who are you to be made an impression for?

How many times in my young life have I seen the most sour faces to have the most beautiful hearts? How many times have I seen the most well-dressed to have the most foul of attitudes? How many times have I seen the youngest to be the most matured?

I watch people. I look for details and mannerisms. It takes time but that is how I make a hypothesis of what the person is about. Then I ask the person about himself, noting to myself that I was right or wrong. I am pleasantly surprised when my hypothesis is right. I become more intrigued when I am wrong, pressing the person with more questions.

What do I see when I see a person for the first time? I look for distinguishable facial features so that I can remember them the possible future that I see them again. Then, I check out their clothes. If I like it, I take note for fashion inspiration the next time that I need to dress up. If not then, okay. If it floats their boat, who am I to sink it? Then that is it.

I am not picky with friends and acquaintances. Everyone has their own story to tell. If they express their intention to be more than friends then that is a different story altogether.

 

Red Cup Rant: The Starbucks Holiday Cup 2015

So, I heard that people are whining about the holiday Starbucks cups.
I totally agree! What are you thinking, SB?!
The other day, a group of friends and I went to have a nightly coffee session. We chose Starbucks because it was the nearest place to our location that had parking. Moving on, we ordered our drinks and settled ourselves down.
My drink was in a disposable holiday red cup. My mind was like ‘ooh, red’. Then, I drank.
After a few minutes, I noticed something off about the cup. I looked around the store and saw that everyone was drinking from the same red cup.
I was suddenly disappointed. Oh my, Starbucks, don’t you have any corporate social responsibility? You are service disposable red cups in store. Don’t you guys have those ceramic cups for in-house drinking? Do you know how many trees are you wasting by what you are doing? Because what? So you can show off the red cup? It’s just red, dude.
No wonder everyone is angry. Haven’t you heard of saving the environment?
What?
Huh?
What do you mean?
This is not what they are ranting about?
No?
Oh.
Umm…
Awkward.
What are they ranting about then?
Uh huh…
‘Cause there is no snowman on the cup…
Huh. Let me search that.



Hmm… People are condemning Starbucks for their lack of religious and Christmas symbols on their cups. Instead, they opted for a red cup in a darkening gradient from top to bottom.
See? I did not know that they had an ombre red cup. I only saw red. The cardboard cozy was blocking the gradient. Congratulations, Starbucks on wasting more trees only to fail in showcasing your red cup.
Oh right, wrong rant.



So, people are angry because there are no symbols? Why don’t they just draw the symbols themselves? Oh, they’re doing that? So what is the problem?

Starbucks is not promoting Christmas because there are no symbols?
I think that is great.
I mean, think about it.
Starbucks should provide markers so that everyone could draw whatever festive thing that they wanted.
Like you can draw a whole herd of snowmen or maybe Santa riding his sleigh with all the reindeers circling the cup.
Or you can draw a turkey cause its Thanksgiving. Or you can draw a Menorah. Or if you are that good, you can draw the whole city of Mecca.
Then it will be festive and Christmas-y.
Technically, in Christian religion, Christmas is about the birth of Jesus Christ. In Christian religion, Jesus Christ is God. In any religion, as far as I know, God (or gods) are good. If we use basic analogy is that Christmas is the birth of good. We have different holidays to celebrate gratitude, family, life, and goodness whenever the end of the year comes. It just so happens that most people are Christians so Christmas is the most famous holiday.
I think the red cup is nice because it is open to interpretation to any belief. Hey, if you are a nonbeliever then that is fine too. The red hue is bright and striking. Leave it as it is or draw a smiley.
Also, you can go and write a dedication on the red cup. Then, you can give it to someone special.
At least, there will be more purpose for the disposable cup even if you are going to drink it in store.
Sorry, still disturbed that they are throwing away wax cups when they can use washable ones.