Memoir: Besar Ranas: The Perks of Being the "Underdog"

Memoir: Besar Ranas: The Perks of Being the "Underdog": If you are reading this article then congratulations....you have just been very honest with yourself. We all, at some point in life, ha...

The Perks of Being the "Underdog"

If you are reading this article then congratulations....you have just been very honest with yourself.
We all, at some point in life, have been or will be labeled the underdog. After all, life is not a straight road to success and if it were, where would the fun be in that?

For those who aren't familiar with the term, the underdog is the "loser" in any type of new situation(usually work or school related). Its the bottom of the barrel, the burnt potato chip at the end of the bag, the coffee runner, the shafted and the b*tch worker. These are all harsh terms to digest, but if you've ever been in this lowly position, then you know exactly how it feels.

Now let's get something clear; You were not born an underdog, nor destined to be one. You were born an individual with creative potential, who is just as unique as you are connected to the great whole of humanity. However, society prefers that you do not know or pay attention to your creative potential, as it may distract you from the truly important things in life: Money and Success of course!(please note sarcasm). My point is, society at one point or another will want to put you in the underdog position so that you "know your place" in the beloved "system."

I would love to get outrageously angry with you about all of this, but I unfortunately, still live in one of the many great throngs of society: the big city. And although it may come as a shock to you, I plan on staying in society for the greater good of my future family and priorities, so I have learned to deal.
But fear not! there are perks to being an underdog....and here they are.

1. Success will come and they'll be in Awe.
The underdog is not expected to succeed. You are the comfort to everyone else at the office, they lean on you and count on you to remain at the bottom. But however painful that may feel....FUCK THEM! You are not a bottom dweller, you were placed there through habitual hazing. Just shut your mouth and observe, speak when spoken to and watch people. They're comfortable enough to show you the truth behind their bullshit and how success really works, so observe what they have to teach.

In time you will learn that no matter your industry, success is a game to be played. Just when everyone thinks that you know nothing, have nothing to say or have no potential...come out and prove them wrong. And when you hit success, you'll know, because they will hate you for it. They'll hate that they underestimated you, or never saw you coming and most of all, they'll hate your success. It sounds like a lot of hate, but take it in stride and enjoy your good moment with those who supported you all along.

2. The Underdog is everyone's confidant.
This is highly connected to my first point. You may find that while you are, or were the underdog, you had more friends than ever. Ever heard the saying "it's lonely at the top?", well its a f*ckin party at the bottom. This is because no one feels threatened by you. Friendships are a feed to the ego and there is nothing that feeds the ego better than perching oneself up above the underdog. It sounds disgusting, but such is society. Of course, you should choose your true friends wisely, but these types of bullshitters can serve you, the underdog, a great purpose. They reveal their secrets to you, they show you the ropes, they tell you what its really like at the top and they show you who's who. Pay attention! They are teaching you vital lessons for success...and they don't even know it.

3. Once you make it, your public will adore you.
There are two types of Bosses: the ones everyone hates and the ones everyone loves. There is no in between. Giving a group of people a lively hood, inspiring them, pushing their potential and working synergetically with them are enough qualities for many people to adore you. Putting people down, hazing them, discarding their ideas and axing at their self-esteem will always get you hated....even if it makes your crew lots of money.

You the underdog understand what it is/was like at the bottom. Chances are you were more of an underdog than others because there was something REAL about you. All of these qualities mean that when you do rise from the ashes, whoever your "people" are, will adore you and will want you to continue to lead them.

So now that we've established some perks of being a U-dawg, let's look at some tips for growth. Once you emerge into the adult world from whatever your studies, you may notice that what used to feed your ego no longer cuts it. Yeah you go out, yeah you have fun, yeah you still love your hobbies and down time, but now you want something more. That itch inside of you is a call for you to put your piece out into society. It's time for you to leave your mark, however big or small it may be, on the world. If you don't try to leave your mark, because you were too busy doing what others told you to do, you may find yourself with regrets later on.

I wish I could tell you that leaving your mark in the world was as easy as becoming a doctor, lawyer, or really f*cking rich, but we both know that thats just not how it works. As many self help books have started out, often at some point in the mid-life, the hard working career person comes to an epiphenal moment where he/she realises that they are not living the life that they wanted. So let's try and avoid that before it even happens.

Here are my tips for Growth

 1.It's not what you want to do, it's WHO you want to BE.
It's actually very simple. You cannot know what you want, if you don't know who you are. And you cannot know what you want to do, until you know who you want to be.

So who do you wan-A-be!?(I wanna really,really,really wanna ziga zig aaah)

Look around the subway. Which one of those people do you aspire to be like? The tired mother or the tired business person? What makes you happy? family? success at work? money?
Who's facebook pictures do you wish you were in. The hippy travelers in bangkoks'? The smoothely dressed business person in a swanky nightclub? The down-to-earth social worker in an underdeveloped country?

And most importantly, who do YOU see yourself being. Do you want to be in the crux of society; on the pulse of every trend? Do you want to let go of it all? Do you want to be a daredevil outlier and start your own brand?

Next time you're feeling blah, ask yourself this stuff. Be balsy and honest, you may find that your answer was not what you expected. You may find that you hate nightlife and actually want to be a family person. You may find that you want something more than social work and that underdeveloped countries are no longer for you. It doesn't make you a bad person, it just makes you, you!

Prioritize who you want to be and then ask yourself what you are doing whenever you are being that person.

2. Find your Craft. 

What you do when you  are being who you want to be, is your Craft.

Now your Craft doesn't always pay the bills....but it's still your Craft.

Your Craft may not be your parents top choice for you, but it's still your Craft.

And your Craft may not impress your friends, but doggonit! it's still your Craft.

Get a job anyways, don't mention it to your parents and screw your friends.....but keep working on your Craft. Research it. Take a class on it. Do it in your spare time. And if you should so happen to find an opportunity to expand your Craft into a project, and if you should so happen to get paid for it(or not) JUMP on that opportunity!

3. Critics are your friends and Haters are the Enemy.
As you explore yourself, you will get both critics and haters. But do not mix these up, as you may miss important lessons.

Haters are going to hate on whatever you do, no matter what you do. Haters know not of your life, your Craft or your current state of mind. Haters usually appear out of the blue, like a snake in the grass, pounce on whatever you are currently excited about and then walk away with a sly smile. Stay away from these fools....and as the Bible says,"Forgive them, for they know not what they do..."

Critics, on the other hand, may come in the form of a parent, an experienced professional or a teacher. They are trying to steer you and your Craft in the right direction. They are not trying to offend you. If, like mine, your Craft is creative, then you will be subject to lots and Lots and LOTS of criticism. You don't have to take all of it, but it is all there to help you. Love your Craft so much that you are capable of taking criticism, so as to mold it to the best that it can possibly be. And you will find in time that when you put in the work, the critics are actually pretty nice people with some tough love to give.

And Finally....

4. Remember....life is not a Vertical Climb......it's Horizontal Growth. 
In the corporate world many people want to climb up vertically, but in life, the climb is actually a Horizontal Expansion. Life is not just a job, a family or a status...its a juxtaposition of things. And you are not just a worker, a student, a mother, or a friend, you are multi-faceted and complex. DO not listen to the people who undermine your dreams. They don't know what the hell they are talking about. Life is not just a linear rise and fall, it is a constant horizontal expansion of opportunities. Instead of a line pointing up, its a tree blossoming in all directions. Love every tid bit of the silly unimportant shit that you are doing. It is all part of your growth!

                         So to all my U-dawgs, thanks for reading and good luck on your journey!

Damn! What happened to the Carbonel Lady?

AH HELL NO! not her too!

What in the hell happened to the Carbonell lady? When I moved to Spain, I only bought Carbonell, just to see her face. While cooking,I'd let my fingers trace the outline of her voluptuous figure and dream about what old España must have really been like. When I was homesick in San Francisco, I painted her curves onto a small end table that I had found by a dumpster. I looked into her eyes, crying out, "Mi España"!(ok maybe a little dramatic) But she represented the nostalgia that I felt for a truer Spain. A time when when flaky, dry pastries were the bees knees. A time when being a shoemaker meant that you had fucking made it! A time for sobremesas and attending misa. But most of all, it was a time when Spanish people looked like effing Spanish people!

So the question remains, what in the hell happened to the Carbonell lady? The same thing that happened to most Spanish women. She went on a diet, got a nose job and channelled her inner barbie! Porque la imagen joder! Porque el fisico es lo mas importante!(image and the physique are very important!).

Nine times out of ten, when I'm on a date, a spanish guy will reveal to me that a woman's looks are important, if not the MOST important thing(I shit you not). RIGHT? it sounds weird doesn't it? It sounds like something we learned to stop saying more than twenty years ago, after our gradeschool teacher reinforced that beauty was only skin deep.  It sounds like something a 15, 20 or maybe even 25 year old would say, right? The last person to say it to me was THIRTY-FUCKING-EIGHT! Jesus christ! Thats like people walking around saying money is everything.

Now granted theres a lot of Hypocrisy in the world, and many people think these things but don't dare say them. But there is something behind beauty being skin deep and money not being the shizzz. Money corrupts and corrupt people end up living unhappy lives. Beauty is just a shell, without personality, beauty will never come alive. Call me a weirdo, but there are a lot of "ugly" fuckers out there that I find extremely attractive, just because...well...they have something. Like Jorge Lorenzo and his death defying skills on a motorcycle, or Woody Allen(ignore the bad press,for now) and his witty banter. Thats what makes someone sexy!

But hell, I digress. Back to my point. Nine out of ten men tell me looks are important. Then they proceed to tell me that: "But hey, don't worry, you made the cut....you should be HAPPY?" Excuse me? I should be happy that your jobless, bilbo baggins lookin ass chose me!?!?!??!? WHAT? 

SO heres my next point. Do you think I was lucky enough to date nine out of ten HOT guys, guys who would at least have the grounds on which to be so damn judgmental? HELL NO? One was  a fat ass, the other unemployed, the other still wearing the same T-shirt since high school, and the only one who was "hot" was boring and stiff.

So heres my question: Who the F*ck do these men think they are???? Please, somebody tell me???

If looks are so important to you sir, then I suggest you never leave your house! Look at you my man, you can't afford for looks to be important to you. You've got Sweat stains from here to Phoenix, theres an icicle of crust hanging out your eye and that nose hair's about to meet your mustache and create a new Hybrid(hipsters take not, the nose hair mustache is a new thing!)

Now I am a woman and I do care for my looks. Hell I'm not going to lie, I probably spend thousands on beauty per anuum. But it takes about forty minutes a day for me to get dolled up, after those forty minutes are up I just don't give a fuck. I spend the rest of the day thinking about my future, my writing or where I want to travel to next. And all in all, I honestly believe that forty minutes is all I need, I'm just as good as the next and if I took longer, then what you would be looking at would be FAKER!

So ladies and Gentlemen of Nueva España... take a break. Take a breather. Doll yourselves up. Go shopping. Do your makeup, do your hair, throw some hair gel on and for the love of God:Cut that Nose hair! And then....go read a book. Find out about a new country. Learn a new language. Explore the world. Go to a museum. Meet someone interesting who doesn't live up to your "standards". Have incredible sex with an ugly person(stranger things have happened). and then.....FUCKING GET OVER YOURSELVES!

Thank ye, Thank ye very much!

(I've been wanting to write that for a looooooong time!) 

Are we Too Selfish for Love?

The Facebook era. The iphone generation. The constant Whatsappers or texters, replacing conversation. Absorbed in our screens while we become obsessed with our corporate dreams. Our self-worth is now based on rising to success. The stress of it all, now turning our dreams to nightmares.

Forgive me for being so crass, but aren't all these mediums just projections of new age narcissism?

But what other choice were you actually given? If your not into it, your not in. If you don't have a million likes, aspire for that cool job in a hip city, or aren't innately self obsessed....you're weak. Something's wrong with you. You haven't gotten it together or you're a weirdo.

And then there's the modern relationship. How on earth are you going to accept another fully if you can barely accept yourself for half an hour?What do you do when the one you love doesn't do, say or behave the way you like? What if his family sucks? What if his opinions are rigid or politically incorrect, compared to your liberal ways? Or worse, what if he gets way more likes than you do(!!!!)?

Or how about him? What if you're hotter than he is and he can't take it? What if your salaries bigger, you're more easy-going, or your dysfunctional family makes him feel uneasy? Or worse, what if the prospects of gravity getting the best of your skin sends him heading for the hills?

We have made our search for happiness fully external and coca cola loves it. Now you can “open happiness,” “Think different” and “connect people” using....STUFF! Your identity is being molded every day to fit the mission statement of your place of work. Because it's not just a means to money, Damnit, it's a way of life! But I don't blame you! I'm proud of you! You've taken up bikram yoga, sent out your resume, traveled the world and you now only eat organic.

You're a citizen of the world ; you recycle, care for the poor and spit on politicians. You have cultivated the perfect relationship with yourself. You love yourself and parade it through random Tibetan scriptures tattooed on your arm. You now worship eastern deities, though you've never set foot in church.

Social, yet isolated. Compassionate but narcissistic. Successful yet riddled with self doubt. The new generation would be doomed....but we are too damn busy to even notice.

So here comes the age old question: Have we become too selfish for love?

If the answers to why you're not with someone have been along the lines of: I'm just working on myself right now, I'm just too busy, or I don't want to lose myself in another person...then I'm afraid the answer is yes!

Heres where I get personal. A while back I went through a breakup. It was the first of its kind. It was not dramatic. There was no betrayal, lies, or loss of attraction. There was no falling out of love or the realization that we never were in love. Heck, if we were divorced we would be listed under irreconcilable differences. Thats all it was:two people who loved each other deeply, followed by two ego's who hated each other even more. No one was willing to bend,so we both broke.

So as a result; no slashed tires, no horrible backbiting and no plots of revenge. Instead I just went numb. Then I went on a dating streak. Nothing promiscuous, just a moment in time where I sat down, had a beer and let other people seep into my reality. Yes, I listened. I learned about all the different jobs to be had. The disillusionment of being a journalist for Real madrid, or the isolation of being an entrepreneur. I even learned about the random people you meet when you rent out scooters to tourists.

I made dating my job, giving every evening my all. I was cheerful,giggly and made myself the perfect canvas of all of their fantasies. To the motorcycler,I pulled out my motogp knowledge. To the burnt out journalist, I made feel young and carefree and of course to the entrepreneur, I simply kept him company. Why is it so easy to make people happy when you know you have no future with them? Yet to the one you truly love, you feel you must chip away and knit pick at every quirk.

What I learned after getting to know all of these new people,is that they were no better. In fact, in the true nature of comparison(which you shouldn't do) they were quite a lot worse than my ex. The thing was, I didn't care. They spouted the same stupid stuff, made the same mistakes, were just as immature...hell they were men. Half of which didn't even have the same charm or qualities.

So what had I truly lost? Well, it's simple. In an effort to become the perfect partner for the one I loved, I temporarily lost myself(don't we all?). And halfway through, my ego retaliated, blamed him and began to attack! Suddenly all that we loved, was all that we hated as the arguments just rolled on, and on,and on. In the end we left it. Now, I listen to other idiots blunder on about the same shit.

So what have I learned? Perhaps not now, because we were both too young, but in the future, when you love someone(as long as they're not a raging psycho) you tolerate them. Because chances are, if you don't, you'll end up tolerating a whole web of schmucks that you barely even like.

So get your head out of your iphone, stop scrolling(and then re-scrolling) through your Facebook feed and go have a decent conversation with another human being. Listen. You won't regret it.

Scene: Climax

Late May in Madrid is probably universally known as one of the most beautiful times in this city. Primavera/Verano or Spring/Summer is what the natives call it. As the season came around so had Sevillano and it seemed that everything was finally falling into place. I had got a beautiful, quaint one bedroom apartment in a complex near school. It had its own garden, pool and overlooked a park where we all hung out and smoked joints. We named the spot “little Retiro” as an homage to El Retiro(Madrid's equivalent to New York's Central Park). The apartment had a beach house feel to it, with huge sliding windows, white walls,a small bar and a cool open concept kitchen.

Suddenly everything was perfect. He moved in with me. We not only made love but also dined on my mini enclosed terrace and watched the view of the sun setting over a huge pine tree outside the window. We talked. It was the first time in two years that we had ever truly spoken. We discussed people at school, physics, music and just about everything that tickled the intellect of two curious college students. He was not only brilliant when it came to engineering and music, but unlike most who are talented in that field, he was extremely socially savvy and knew how to give the perfectly likable opinion about every topic.

I didn't understand why suddenly he was calling, wanting me, spending time with me and practically living in my home, but this time I chose not to question it. I was so happy with this perfect domestic life that we had built that I just went with it, knowing that the consequences would be a stark contrast to the present euphoric high that I was on.

And just like that, as quickly as he came, one day he disappeared. I called. He didn't pick up. When he finally did I could hear Blondie and a bunch of her friends in the background. Damn, she got me again. I needed to be the last one to have him, kind of like getting the last word in an argument, and I could feel him slipping away. He came by and told me he was going to do El Camino de Santiago with both blondies and some guy friends. My jaw dropped, that sneaky bastard, I told him about that trip, I wanted to do it with him. But I was afraid that if I protested, I would lose in the end and blondie would win him back. I gave him my backpack, bit my lip, swallowed whatever pride I had left and sent him on his way.

The two weeks he spent away were a blur to me. Suddenly I went from domestic bliss, surrounded by the man I had always wanted, engulfed in his brilliance, his warmth, affection and friendship, to absolutely nothing. I was alone in a cold one bedroom. Every night I stayed up staring at the ceiling, waiting for him to come back. I became completely sleep deprived and turned to sleeping pills, which I abused. They didn't work, I still couldn't sleep and instead they turned me into a drowsy red-eyed zombie by day.

I also remedied the new found emptiness in my life by going on a psychotic shopping spree. I bought the stupidest stuff, like entire seasons of Desperate Housewives, which I could have easily borrowed or downloaded. I just needed anything to distract me from the pain, layered by the numbness of sedatives, which would eventually wear off.

Finally, he came back. I had prepared a plan of revenge. I bought this beautiful dark pink silky dress, which draped in pieces, giving me an ethereal fairy-like appearance. I would wear it, perfect my hair and makeup and see him at this supposed “goodbye” party that we had planned for him and everyone else that was transferring next semester.

He would approach me, unable to resist me and my killer outfit and I would finally indignantly shoot him down and get my pride back. There he was, surrounded by girls who were chuckling stupidly at just about anything that came out of his mouth. The nerve of that guy, leading me to believe he wanted to live with me and become all that I have ever wanted, then disappearing without a trace. Finally, I would have the moment I always wanted and send him packing. He would go home blue balled and spend the rest of his summer thinking about the one that got away: Me!

As he was coming over I plainly maintained my back to him, pretending that he was of no importance and that whatever the guy to my left was saying was funny as hell.

But instead of returning the sting of rejection that I had gotten completely buried by over that last two years, he just grabbed my arm briskly and whispered in a hoarse,masculine,sexy voice:

“What are you doing attracting all that attention in that dress?”

I froze like a dumbfounded dear in the headlights.

“....”

“I'll come by tomorrow and say goodbye” he continued.

Before I could get a word in, he was gone. I just could not believe that he got me again. I felt completely powerless against him. I couldn't resist his touch, or his masculine deep voice, in fact his entire physical stature dominated me. My only final chance to reject him would come the next day, it was now or never and I had to take it.

He came by in the early afternoon and I was still stone faced and numb from my evening dose of Mr.Sandman pills. I asked him to explain how he could so outrightly betray me and do camino with two girls that he wanted.

He went into a large detailed beat around the bush explanation. Arms were flailing, topics were constantly digressed from, answers were left opened; it was kind of like watching a politician explain where all the money went. But inside the mind of a sleep deprived, zombified, heart wrenched self, it just looked like a cloud of stupidity which masked the fact that despite what little pride and dignity, I was going to sleep with him anyways.There was no denying I was beyond desperate for my last fix. This must have been what hitting rock bottom looked like.

He took me to the bedroom and did his business as usual, handling me like a rag doll. This wasn't the sensual magic we had on our first night, but rather a masturbation he performed inside of me. When it was over I got a phone call,

“ Madame Bebawi” said a woman with a french accent

“Yes, this is she” I answered.

“Eh this is Madame Morache from UBS Suisse, you called to enquire earlier about your credit card being declined?”

“Yes thats correct,” I answered, now sweating and feeling the extreme contrast between the numb drowsiness of sedatives meeting the intense anxiety and fear which would come from her following words.

“Well, it seems that you are currently at minus 1,500 swiss francs in your bank account.”

“You mean my credit card?”

“No madame, you are in debt in your checking account.”

“But thats impossible!”

“I am sorry madame,” she replied in her snide swiss way, “have a nice day.”

The sex, the pills, the betrayal and now this. I was completely dumbfounded, but I returned to the bedroom pretending that everything was ok, because at least he was here and would provide some sort of comfort. God forbid, it was better than being alone.

When I laid back down I turned to him, looking for the soft nook on his armpit to rest my head on. But before my head touched his chest, he swiftly turned away.

“I gotta go!” he exclaimed to the open air, assuming absolutely no care or responsibility for the other human being in the room.

He quickly rolled his jeans on, tightened his belt, slipped his shrunken t-shirt on and walked over to the bedroom door. The room was pitch black except for the sliver of light which slipped through the crack of the door. The panel of light laid on half of my face as I slowly curled into the fetal position.

He looked over from the doorway, he was now just a large, dark and daunting, shadow.

After a dramatic pause he spoke his last words, which were, just as he: pretentious, careless and degrading. This was a moment which would later stay ingrained in my body, continually manifesting itself year after year as the defeat which axed at my inner self. He spoke a sentence that I would never forget.