this isnt the first time it happened. one incident i was riding a taxi from katips to mandaluyong. the young taxi driver then began to strike up a conversation. apparently he was learned and well-read (if you consider “the da vinci code” as serious reading). ewan, tamad mag-aral, he said he could have been one of the office people. now he just drives office people to their office.
then he asks me stuff about drawing. he assumes i was an artist designer, he goes on asking me about the stuff i do. i ask him, na-oobvious bang “artist” ako? he said, yes (as clear as day). although i laughed off his assumption (considering it’s true) i wasnt all too jolly about the stereotype.
recently one of the prod staffs at a shoot we did during the weekend asks me if i were “indeed” from the up fine arts (“taga up fine arts ka, diba?”). i said yes. he tells me he knew a lot of people there. later i ask him how’d he know i was from up, being curious as to who perhaps could be a mutual friend or if we’ve met before in the campus. he then tells me i look like somebody from there.
ive nothing against goatees (esp unruly ones). nothing against my bald head (ive been shaving off my hair since the summer of 1993, a few months earlier before richard gomez came out and sported the same style– and then everybody went skinhead). nothing against weird clothing, silver rings, bracelets or black tshirts. but come on, ive fallen into a type.
despite my appearance, i could also be a musician, or one of those bohemian junkee types. but ive gotten myself into a visual trap. i dont really mean to look like some artiste, it’s comes with the environment and the background (and maybe even the vibes we emit, or the color of our auras). i feel like some pathetic wannabe, desperate for confirmation and attention. im no f*****’ mascot!
maybe i should grow some hair and wear a coat and tie. or not.
now i know how jollibee feels. without effort, everybody knows he’s the jolly bug because of that cool, orange blazer he wears.