When did being good at something become a crime?

 

You know, I like grace. And I like knowing that I don’t have to –and I can’t be perfect.

But my generation + others have turned this into some game of who can’t do the worst in life but still be alright. It’s a game of who can squeeze by just doing things half-way and still be likeable.

In fact, there is one SUPER popular blog (it’s a mom-ish blog, and yes, yes, I do read mom blogs on occasion) and I honestly do not know why people like this woman so much.  Her whole blog is about basically how much she sucks at life and is the worst mom ever. AND is proud of it. It’s a whole blog  centered around how much she fails as a mom, Christian, wife, blah, and it’s cool. It’s like, “you are the worst at everything, and you’re popular, so that validates my bad-ness.” I call it the World’s Best Underachiever blog. Actually, I’ve never said that out loud, but I’ve thought it. (Shh…I don’t actually know her in real life…so if you’re reading this, it’s likely not you…)

I’m not saying I’m perfect. Not at all. I burn stuff in the oven practically every time I use it. I fail tests. I wear ugly clothes 95% of the time. I have a short temper. I don’t like to talk about ‘how I feel.’ I’m too quick to judge. I don’t say the right things. I’m impatient.

And I’m not ashamed of those things, but I’m not proud of them.

But we’ve come into this weird thing, where we’re just settling with how we are.

I’m not saying we need to scramble to  become ‘the best we can be’ and all that jazz. But what I am saying is we need to keep pushing forward and to keep working. Be happy where you’re at, but don’t get stuck there.

There’s a difference between contentment and complacency.

And let me tell you something that will blow some people’s minds.

You are not perfect.

Seriously.

You have flaws.

And so do I.

But we’re in this new-agey sort of belief that hey, it’s fine to be an absolute wreck of a person, because you know, grace.

Grace.

Grace does not mean doing whatever the heck you feel like.

Grace does not mean you are okay the way you are.

Grace does not mean not changing.

 

Grace is the fact that we can’t be perfect. It’s impossible. And that’s okay, but that does not mean that you should be complacent. It doesn’t mean you can continue doing what you want.

But this is America, and you’re perfect.

WRONG AGAIN.

But back to this blog, this woman PROUDLY boasts about how bad she is.

At cooking, at being a mother, a wife, a Christian, a friend, and it’s awesome, because grace.

No.

Grace is what we receive IN SPITE OF our imperfections. Not because of them. Grace is not having to live ashamed of things you have done. But it’s not saying that what you have done wrong is alright.

So why do people all yell about how bad they are at everything? I’m not saying we should wave flags with all of our accomplishments on them, no, if you do that, I’ll smack you.  And I’m not saying we should hide our mistakes and pretend we are perfect. That’s being fake. And I despise that too, but that’s another rant for another day.

But why are we so proud of how imperfect we are?

Why are people boasting, screaming, shouting their imperfections?

And I’m not saying it’s wrong to be bad about something and make jokes about that, no. That’d be super hypocritical of me to say that.

But what I am saying is this:

It is OKAY to be good at something.

Seriously.

And it’s okay to talk about it. And to tell people your accomplishments. And to actually embrace the fact that you do something well. And use that something to do something awesome.

And you know what else is okay?

To work to improve that skill.

You know who is/was awesome at singing/performing? Julie Andrews.  (‘was’ because she lost her singing voice from throat surgery). And seriously, she and her family knew she was talented. But they didn’t say, “that’s great Julie, you’re perfect how you are, no need to work to improve yourself. You’re perfect.” No. She took voice lessons to work to improve upon the talent she was born with.

But you know, if we’re good at something, we have to be the best, right?

And I think that’s a lot of where we mess up.

Because of insecurity.

If I claim/act like/show/am not ashamed of the fact that I am good at something…well…people will know…and if they know…they can see when I do something wrong…

SO THE SOLUTION! Act like you’re bad at everything. Because that way---it doesn’t matter! If you claim to be a terrible tuba player—and then drop your tuba in concert, it’s fine, because, eh, you never said you were any good anyway.

BUT if you share with people your love of the tuba, tell them what you’ve been working on, and ARE GOOD AT IT, and then you miss a note during your mad tuba solo, well, then people will know that you, Mrs. Perfy McPerfect IS NOT PERFECT.

Shut. Up. No. Way.

So the solution for making sure no one ever sees our mistakes ever, is to blow up all the things we are bad at. Pretend we’re not good at anything. So to hide our downfalls, we proclaim them from the rooftops.

AND PLEASE. I am not saying we should hide our mistakes. And I’m not saying that we should scream our talents.

But when did being good at something become a crime?

Being a recipient of grace means you’re not allowed to be good at something.

Really.

It’s okay to be good at something. Promise.

Low enough to hate.

 

I’ve been thinking about this one for a while, but didn’t want to say anything while all the Martin/Zimmerman stuff was going on, because this has nothing to do with that. But even if I did write what I think about that, people on both sides would hate my guts and whatever, so you know…not that I don’t want to say anything controversial, but I think that horse has been beaten to death. A thousand million times. But um, anywho, moving on.

To the people who cry ‘racism’ to everything done wrong to a minority: shut up.

To the people who say racism doesn’t exist in the US: shut  up.

You’re both wrong.

See this photo:

That’s probably the coolest toddler you will (or won’t) ever meet. We’ve got a lot in common, like our love for french fries.

So we like to hang out and whatever.

Oh, but if you hadn’t noticed, he’s black. And I’m white.

So the other day, him and I were just hanging out at McDonald’s (with another brother who missed the photo) being crazy, eating French fries, trying not to climb up windows, that sort of stuff.

And people. Ugh, people.

They look at him, they look at me, they look back at him, they look back at me. Pass sort of a judgmental glare and walk along. This happens all the time.

Thanks guys, next time I need a stupid opinion--I’ll know where to ask.

And no one ever says anything, because you know, people are too kind for that. Though if someone did, I have a few good answers tucked in my pocket.

But it’s written all over their faces.

You really should be careful, because people can pick up on what you’re thinking a lot more than you think.

And maybe they’re just busy judging me ‘cause I look like I’m 13 and lugging around a baby. Maybe that’s it, I don’t know. But that’d still be rude, in my opinion, so racism or not, still wrong.

And not everybody is judgmental about it, but the ones who are make sure you can see it all over their faces. And I think it’s kind of funny. You’re judging me for walking around with a black baby, which last time I checked, was a totally moral thing to do. And you’re the one passing judgments on people you know nothing about. huh.

But do you want to hear something I heard one time?

“What is the difference between a black man and a park bench? A bench can support a whole family.”

You know where I heard this?

At church. At freaking church.

This was a teenager, and there were supposedly mature adults who either heard that, or are deaf. But I’m pretty sure it’s the first. And they just stood there. Are you kidding me? I whipped my head around and said, “Seriously?!” I didn’t say anything else because I was too angry—and whatever came out of my mouth was not going to be sweet, so I shut up. But I wish I hadn’t. I wish I would have stood up, told this person off, and walked out of that building. I would have been just as well off that way, considering I spent the rest of church thinking about how stupid I thought this person was. And everyone else, all these mature adults, just stood around.  And before anyone tells me I shouldn’t be pointing people out, well I don’t even remember who exactly was there (maybe anger causes memory loss), but I do know it was 4-6 “men.”

“Well you’re a bit bitter, Bekah.” Yes. Yes, I am. Should I be? Probably not. But when people who are supposedly good Christian church people sit by in silence while people say this crap…yep, yeah, that does make me angry.

And then, here’s one, I heard this from someone at my house…which is even classier, considering two black people live here.

This is supposed to be a joke, apparently.

“What do you call a bunch of white people running down a hill? An avalanche. What do you call a bunch of Mexicans running down a hill? A coal mine. What do you call a bunch of black people running down a hill? A jailbreak.”

Ah, yes, but this time I could not hold my tongue. I yelled at this kid, told him to shut up, get out of my house, and to quit being stupid. Among other things, which I don’t remember entirely. I went to my room to semi-calm down/cry. It wasn’t exactly the most tactful thing I’ve ever done (tact has never really been my strong point), but I don’t really regret it. My friend Emily says it’s the angriest she’s ever seen me. It’s actually probably the angriest I’ve ever been. It’s one thing to say stupid stuff like that, it’s another to say it in the home of the people you are demeaning.

And I’m sorry that your self esteem is low enough that you have to put down an entire race. That must be an unpleasant way to live.

But I don’t think that’s the way to stop racism. Actually, I don’t know how. Because on one side, you get to the point of crying ‘racist’ at everything, and that’s wrong in and of itself. And on the other side, just ignoring it entirely. And it goes every direction. There are racist whites, blacks, Asians, Hispanics, Indians, whatever. And it’s not right for anybody.

But I do know this, a lot of it starts with kids parents. No kid is born and thinks, gee, I’m going to hate this group of people because their eyes are slanted. That’s ridiculous. No, kids are taught. And I have read stuff where people claim to be racists because of a bad thing this person of this race did to them one time.

Seriously?

So if I get robbed by a guy with blue eyes, I should hate all blue-eyed people.

Good thinking.

I could ramble on all day about what I think is or isn’t the end-all fix everything answer, but I don’t know. I really don’t.

What I  do know though, is that whether or not you can change anyone else, you can start with yourself.

And I do know that hating people who seem to be racists does nothing. I don’t think we can just waltz up to people and scream “LOOOVE EVERYBODY, YOU IDIOT!” No, that won’t work. And I don’t know what will, I don’t, and I don’t think there is an easy answer.

I don’t know, I really don’t, but I do know that everyone, on both ends of the racism spectrum, myself included, need to take the advice of basically the coolest civil rights activist, ever.

“Let no man pull you low enough to hate him.” –Martin Luther King, Jr.

If Instagram was more honest….

 

So. I’ll say it. I hate Instagram. I hate it almost as much as when people put Spanish or French or whatever as a language they speak after taking a couple of classes. No, you can order at a restaurant, congrats, but you don’t speak French. I think facebook should have a test, if you prove yourself to be pretty-dang-close to fluent, congrats, add it as a language, if not, too bad, continue being a wannabe (like me).

But that’s another rant for another day.

I made an account on Instagram once.. Deleted it after 5 minutes.

The first reason I hate it is because, well, I hate that now that most everyone has a phone that takes ‘decent’ pictures, we try to crap them up with filters. What is the point of that? Oh here is a half-decent photo, let me add a filter that blurs it and makes it look like I dropped the photo in water. Yes, that looks good.

No, no it doesn’t.

I’ve kind of got this thing against making good photos look vintage anyhow. Unless it’s like supposed to be recreating or something. I just have this thing against all sepia filters. Also, I avoid saying “sepia” like the plague, because I’m honestly not even sure how to say that.

The other reason, is because well, it’s just so fake. No one looks like that when they get up. People actually eat quinoa and like it? (my mother says she likes it, but I don’t even know how that is humanly possible).

So last not today or yesterday, I documented life, instagram style. I’m still new at this, so you know, don’t hold any noob mistakes against me.

Such a beautiful morning! Ready to get this day started! #earlybird #duckface #alldayeveryday

Oopsie, forgot to take a picture of my coffee when it was full. Always look at the positives in life. 1/4 full, not 3/4 empty. #coffee #morning #goodvibes

Cleaning makes me feel so good! The way your bathroom cabinets look reflects your life, are you going to have an orderly life or a confusing one? #organization #supertidy #whoneedsamaid

I just opened the Bible to take a picture so people would know how spiritual I am. #mildew

I love dressing up. Couldn’t figure out how to do any poses from Next Top Model, so I drew my inspo from Nacho Libre. #fancy #posing #imamodel #forgot #duckface

My gorgeous view today. I could just sit and look at it all day. #maps #toshiba #adobe #googlechrome

Loving getting pampered. So relaxing, but don’t you be idolizing my moisturizing #refreshing #lotion #feet

Ate a whole bag of Kroger brand tortilla chips for lunch. Healthy eating is my passion. #yumyum #processedchips

Me and that boy. He’s the highlight of my day #lovehim #xoxo #soulmates

Just chilling after lunch. Pimple don’t stand a chance with me around. #proactivisforweenies #letsgo #huah

Scrubbing the Java Chip frappucino I dumped all over the driver’s seat. #starbucks #coffeelove #dawndishsoap

Getting ready for bed. You can’t see it, but this tshirt has like, coffee stains on it. #Waynesboroplayasreppin #braids #tiredgirl

 

You know, maybe I’ve changed my mind…maybe I will get Instagram..

I wish everyone would just get over Marilyn Monroe.

 

People idolize people. It’s stupid, but it’s what happens. And in my opinion, one of the most OVERRATED people of all time…is Marilyn Monroe.

Yes, I have said it, I have blasphemed the name of the incredible Monroe. Sue me.

First off, let us take a little look at her actual size. So many people say she’s inspiring to just look how they look and all that jazz. And Marilyn was a big woman, so I can be too, woop-diddly-dee! I’m all for having a good body image (see this post), but I hate myths. And I hate when people just believe anything they read on the internet.

 

“Well it was on the internet, so it has to be true.”

But really.

I looked up her measurements from her dressmaker. The one’s from the studio were about an inch larger on everything…so keep that in mind, I’m going with skinny Marilyn, but the bigger Marilyn wasn’t much larger..

Bust: 36in

Waist: 22in

Hips: 36in.

Weight:118lbs

Okay, so going by Banana Republic’s sizing chart, today she would be size 8 top. And because she was curvy, it’s a little more difficult to tell pant size, she would wear somewhere from a 00 to a 2. Her dress size is also a bit tricky because of the curves, but it looks to me like either a 6 or an 8.

Wait.

You mean…not a 16?

YOU’RE WRONG I KNOW SHE WAS OVERWEIGHT BECAUSE I KNOW THESE THINGS AND INTERNET AND STUFF AND I LOVE MARILYN AND SHE INSPIRES ME AND AND AND

hey, your beef is with her dressmaker’s measurements, not me. Another thing to consider is the way sizes change, she may have been a 10 or whatever, but that doesn’t mean a whole lot in terms of our sizes today. And that quote about you being beautiful because you’re not a size 0, and society is ugly? Well, someone just made that up. Seriously. There was no such thing as a size 0 during Marilyn’s life. So if everyone could please quit quoting that, that’d be great.

I have a wedding dress from the 1970s (don’t ask), and it’s a size 8. I usually wear something from size 0 to size 2.

I make look like a fabulous 70s princess, but I can’t breathe.

That dress is hard to put on. The zipper is tight as all get out. It took my mom and my sister pulling it to get it up. The dress hasn’t been altered. It’s a size 8. Or at least it was in 1970ish. So she may have been a size 16, in the 1960s. But it’s not the same as todays sizes.

BUT WHYYY do all her clothes look like they’re going to pop off if she was so small?

Well, Marilyn, being the classy woman she was, was often sewn into her dresses because they were so tight. Well, shoot.

Which brings me to this misattributed quote:

No. No. No. First of all, if Marilyn did say this, she needed to take her own advice.

Dress maker Edith Head said this. Here she is with a couple of Oscars:

I love how she’s just like, “yeah, these are my Oscars, got a problem?”

She worked with Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn a bit. So tell me, who dressed more lady-ish: Marilyn, Audrey, or Grace? Hm. And I’m just now realizing her striking resemblance to Edna Mode. Oh, Disney Pixar, you sneaky little people.

But now that we’ve got that out of the way…here are some other not-so-outstanding things about Marilyn Monroe.

She quit school in 10th grade. And I know things happen, and circumstances are whatever, but that’s a fact. She quit to be married to a man whom she was married to for 4 years.

In 1950, she had surgery to “fix” her nose and chin. How’s that for true beauty and accepting yourself?

She was married 3 times. Her longest marriage lasted 5 years.

And probably the most overlooked one of all time: She had an affair with the president. The president. And with others. But definitely with the president. What a smart move. Like, if that doesn’t prevent people from idolizing her, I don’t know what would. And I know, I know, the president was the married one, and he was wrong too. You’re dang right JFK was wrong, but hey, I can only rant about one person at a time.

And I understand there are broken people, and I understand redemption, but there is no Marilyn recovery story. She lived that lifestyle until she died. And it’s sad as anything. I don’t hate the person who was Monroe, I hate the way she is idolized. I hate that people think her life is something to look up to. I hate that people use her broken, messed-up, lost life to justify their actions.

She was sad person. There’s heavy evidence that she was abused as a child. She was passed around from person to person as a kid. I believe she was looking for what a lot of people search for: love.

And she got it, in one sense of the word.

But I hope that no one else has to live through what Marilyn lived through. And I hope no one wants to live that life.

And you know, I don’t think her life is really something you’d want to repeat. She’s no role model.

“No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a little girl. All little girls should be told they’re pretty, even if they aren’t.” –Marilyn Monroe.

 

Source was mostly this: http://www.marilynmonroepages.com/facts/ (kind of ironic, since it’s like a fan page..) Anything I couldn’t find there was probably from Wikipedia.