This specific childhood memory comes from a time where I was 7 or 8, and I used to walk around my mother's workplace. My mom worked in a big big place were I walked around a lot, it had huge gardens and for a mystical 7 year old it was pretty magical. But this story is not about the imagination, but perception. And so in some of my walks I used to visit a tiny little library where forgotten and unimportant books were kept, there was the workplace of Danny, a 20 years old student-librarian, who for me was pretty much a grown-up. I remember that with Danny and I used to speak about all sorts of things, I can't recall what kind of things, but stupid things 7 year olds say. He was patient and listened to me like it was a serious thing, I felt like a big boy already, having ideas worth hearing.

Anyway, this guy Danny was the boyfriend of one of my mother's co-workers and close friend. And one day my mom told me very casually the news while in the workplace:

"Mary broke up with Danny"

That made me sad, I didn't know anything about heart matters but I knew that meant I wouldn't get to see him now that the relation was broken, plus it saddened me that both of them would feel bad because of that.

"Well she can do so much better, he's... well... she can find someone more attractive" said another co-worker

"I know, he was nice but he wasn't pretty, not unpleasant but... being honest he was ugly" said my mom

And then I was surprised, could Danny the man who listened to me and worked a t a tiny library be ugly? How can people like that be ugly?

"Was he ugly" I naively asked

The co-worker and my mother smirked and reassured that while Danny was a nice person, he was physically unappealing in many ways. That moment took me by surprise, according to bed time stories and Disney nobody who was nice was ugly. I couldn't really see what was ugly about him, he was a nice person.

And as time passed I noticed that kept happening, I didn't realize when people were ugly, to my eyes they were just boring, nice, loud, stupid or so or so. I remember another example when I was waiting for the dentist back when I was 8, and the receptionist was in the waiting room and she started asking me if I was scared. I had never had bad experiences with dentists, but TV and movies said they were very scary people, so I went with the flow and said I was indeed scared. And so she smiled and said it would be fine. It was not even a very nice smile, and I guess that was part of her job, but nevertheless it was a nice gesture.

And there I was sitting in the chair waiting when the thought that she was a pretty person crossed my mind twice. She was not. Maybe she was nice, but just like Danny, she was not aesthetically appealing. As a matter of a fact she was kind of... well... ugly.

I remember that moment I realized that maybe noticing ugly people was an age thing, maybe being a young boy I was I couldn't notice people's looks as much, and instead I guided myself on pure personality content, silly me.

And this memory only brings to mind, was it me or is it an age thing? Should we grow and start seeing the flaws and imperfections? Wouldn't it be a better world if personality mattered more than face symmetry and low fat bodies? Maybe, maybe it was just that I made stories in my head, still do and always will.

This specific memory starts with five year-old me sitting in a little colored chair among my five-year-old peers. That morning our teacher had brought us a new device she would use to denote our efforts and achievements throughout the class. It was a blue cardboard with all of our names and next to it little Velcro squares to attach the merit of being a good five-year-old, a paper star. But since out names were "too long to fit in the spaces" the teacher had instead put stickers of objects that, she said, "represented our person".

I am aware that it would be difficult to believe that a five year-old would be excited about knowing what he represented, but you have to bear with me, I am the penguin after all. So she started showing us the stickers and linking them with our personalities. Jackie was a pony, because she was always full of energy and was pretty. Oscar was a teddy bear because he was adorable. Christian was a race car because he never stopped. And as she explained these poorly made metaphors of five-year-olds and their personalities I recall judging how well made they were, and to be honest I believed they were not accurate. But I was always told older people were smarter, so I convinced myself that she saw things in these people that I couldn't.

So, I was looking up for what was my symbol, I wanted to know what did the teacher think about me. Based on her experience, on knowing me for a long time, hearing my questions and doubts. I wanted to know what those eyes that saw things I didn't thought about my person. I was excited to find something new about me, to know what people thought about me. And so she finally stopped at a light bulb and said

"Well, this light bulb represents I'm the penguin... because..."

Then there was a pause. I was waiting, maybe that next adjective would change and mark me forever. But it didn't. The pause was not hype, not even forgetfulness, she had no idea why I was a light bulb. And I could see it in her eyes, adults don't seem to know this, but when they lie to five-year-olds there is this look in their eyes that is so obvious. They underestimate them (us). At that moment I was disappointed, but I also was five-years-old, so excitement over came the situation and I asked

"Is it because I'm always having ideas?"

I had to explain that in cartoons people are drawn to have a light bulb over their head when they had an idea, and so I was a light bulb because I was creative. Then the teacher understood and in relief she said "Yes, yes, it's because you always have ideas. See? you just had one." But that didn't fix it, it didn't took me longer than 10 minutes to figure out she had never known why I was a light bulb before, she had just assigned a random symbol I was supposed to accept. But why me? Why had she forgotten me and not Jackie the pony or Oscar the teddy bear? Was I unimportant and forgettable?

Or was it simply that she knew so little about five-year-old me that she couldn't think of anything and so she just used the last sticker to not leave me behind? I suppose that kindergarten teacher is not really guilty for not figuring out the personality of every kid. But that marked me, not even the woman which whom I spent all my mornings knew anything of who I was or what I thought at the age of five. In a way that started it, that started the belief that nobody would ever truly know who I was.

The idea that people would always think I was someone I was not had started to only be confirmed time after time later in life. Because it is not only about the light bulbs, it is about the social tags, it is about the friends you hang out with. At the end people have no idea who the hell are you, and just make characters with what you give them.

And yes, I was five-years-old.