Status: Final
NaNo word count—404,404
Mental State:
Not quite as exhausted as I would have expected—close though. Mostly I’m
just sad it’s over. *sniffles*
So, I’m sitting in my room with my feet propped up
drinking tea, not that anyone really cares. In fact, if I took a picture of myself
right now and posted it on the internet, I doubt anyone would give it more than
a passing glance or go out of their way to Google it. Maybe a couple friends
would like it on Facebook. No biggie. But, if I were—say—Louis Tomlinson,
almost every thirteen year old in existence would probably stare at my photo
for a good solid five minutes. Its Facebook likes would number in the thousands
(at least). Probably a few creepers would print it out and post it on their
wall (yes, you know who you are). Big difference huh? Just…change the person,
and you change everything.
While you may not care about what I had for breakfast
or what my favorite color is (green, by the way) or the number of marshmallows
I can fit in my mouth, you probably would if I were someone famous. And I get
that, so don’t think I’m griping. Isn’t it at least a little bit intriguing,
though, that if Louis posted a video relaying those exact details, a couple
hundred thousand individuals would probably watch it at least once while I
might get two views?
But what’s the difference between him and me aside
from the obvious things like gender and facial hair? Well, he’s famous, yeah—a
heartthrob. What else though? Is he a better person? Maybe. Since he’s rich and
all, he can give gobs of money to charities, and he has significant influence
he could use for good. That’s not really what I’m talking about though. I’m not
referring to morality or talent. Actually, I’m talking about him…as a person. And me too, as a
person. And you.
Countries like India have caste systems where those at
the top are rich and privileged, those in the middle less so, and those at the
bottom untouchable. Other countries, like the United States, are a little more
covert about this—we have our upper class, our middle class, and our poverty
stricken lower class. Granted, that’s a broad generalization. But the people in
these different levels—it’s not like they’re some different species. They are
all human beings—made in God’s image just like you and Louis and I. Both fame
and obscurity can do nothing to change that.
So what makes some special and others not? Well, Louis
is a halfway decent singer (some would disagree—but I wasn’t asking). Also,
never underestimate the power of great hair and good looks. Those can often go
farther than a decent batch of brain cells, but I digress. And I’m not like the
haters. Don’t think I’m going to stand here and argue that Louis has been
handed fame and fortune and adulation without just cause, all the while trying
to mask my own jealousy.
Sure, he’s famous—that is something. But even if you’re not famous?—doesn’t mean you’re any less than he. Some day you may
have the spotlight. Or perhaps you prefer the shadows. You know what though?
Maybe the singers and the actors and the writers and the politicians are the
ones we end up remembering at the end of the day. But the lady at the cash
register who says something nice to the depressed teen? I think that puts a
platinum album to shame.
Louis’ popularity—and the popularity of others—has
nothing to do with worth. Like Louis and like me, you are a person. And we are
all equal, no matter what anyone says. Granted, you might pass your evenings
calculating pi to the millionth digit while I spend mine progressing my
campaign to burn every math book on the planet. We all have our strengths and
weaknesses. While Louis can sing, maybe you can’t carry a tune except to take
it out back and bury it. Or perhaps he can’t make a decent soufflé while you
can. Then comes the whole issue of appearance:
fat or skinny, tall or short? What does it matter? What do these things
say about you—you as a person?
Living in this world, seeing all the gorgeous
Hollywood people and the stick-thin shop window dummies and the talents
everyone seems to have aside from you, it can get pretty depressing pretty
fast. So here comes the point where I say something controversial. Before you
shoot me, though, allow me to explain. This culture—it makes self-esteem a
thing of the past. (Just so you know, that wasn’t the controversial bit.) Correct
me if I’m wrong, but I doubt there’s any way you can look like the gals and the
guys on the magazines. With all that airbrushing, they don’t even look like
themselves. To try would be to drive yourself crazy, or worse. But people do. I
do. And that’s a mistake.
I’m not saying it’s wrong to look your best or to work
out and be fit. Those are great things, just, not the most important. Rather
than trying to live up to the lie that is the tabloid, the lie that the actors
can’t even seem to live up to without collapsing on set or whatever, why don’t
we try something else? Why don’t we rebel? Seriously. Who sets these standards
anyway, the ones where you have to kill yourself to be pretty? Who made the
ruling that beauty is something you put on your face instead of something you
wear on your heart? I think it’s about time we stopped letting them pull this
one over on us. I think it’s time we let them know how sick we are—us girls and
guys—of being held to unreal standards. Why don’t we just let ourselves be
human for once, stop trying to be gods? You do realize, don’t you? Things like
this only happen because we let them, because we just accept the lies and don’t
speak out against them.
So my challenge? Measure the thickness (not the width
or length—the thickness) of a magazine cover. Sometimes that’s as deep as
outward beauty goes. Why not find out what it really means to be pretty—on the
inside? Age will take that face from you—what will you have left when it’s
gone? And to help free ourselves, why don’t we message our friends and tell them
how wonderful they are, the bits about their personalities that make them
unique and special, the traits that make them better than a shop window dummy. Why
don’t we rebuild our culture from the bottom up on a stronger foundation, one
where we all have a little more room to breathe and actually be ourselves.
Note: Please
don’t misconstrue this post as a slam on Louis Tomlinson. I assure you, it is
not. I just figured that using someone like Taylor Swift would come across as
criticism rather than mere example. As for Louis, I do still intend to marry
him some day. *grin*
This article ended up taking a different direction than I anticipated—and I think that's kind of cool. Way to go. Beauty has become something superficial these days, that you can peel off at the end of the day, and I feel like that's not cool at all. They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but sometimes I can't help but wonder if it's not. Sometimes it seems like beauty is in the hands of the servants.
ReplyDeleteYeah. This was an excellent post, though... I think I'm going to share it on my Facebook page. *nods*
Thanks! I'm glad you liked it. The ending took me by surprise too, actually. But I figured I'd just take a chance.
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