Monday, July 7, 2014

Thumbs Up

Thumbs Up

If a man thinks he is not conceited, he is very conceited indeed.
C.S Lewis

“Ahhhhh!!!! Oh my God! Oh my God! Are you serious?!?” I yelled at my computer screen. My sister came running to my door way with a concerned but more confused look on her face. Her body language and Kne-Nu’s perked up ears was demanding anexplanation for my loud outburst. “She favored my picture! She favored my picture!” It was all that I could offer at that time. The Twitter notification stating that renowned Twitter and YouTube sensation and my own beauty inspiration @tiarra_monet had favored the picture of my very first sew-in attempt, crediting her video tutorial will forever me a cherished and memorable high point in my life. She had answered the hopeful suggestion in the caption: “I hope I did her proud.” I found more words to form a sentence: “She sees me! She knows who I am!”


      ∞     


I’ve learned that one of the keys to true and genuine victory is to show gratitude and give credit. There is nothing more unflattering and arrogant then displaying and claiming that one did it all on their own and no one deserves recognition for their good fortune. I know because I did that for a very long time—relentlessly.

Me! By myself! All day! Every day! Wake up! Go to sleep! One 

pillow! Me! By myself!

A key, if not the most important, to personal internal triumph is to find and know one’s worth. I learned that by becoming more engaged in social media. In this day and age, a large majority of people base self-worth and esteem on the amount of likes, views and comments given. And I admit that I too was part of that sub group.

The member’s fee could not be paid with money.

When I first began distributing my makeup looks “Faced byBMynroe” and posting my writing, the main thing I was concerned about and strived for were the likes and how many I got. I was obsessed with how many people were paying attention because if no one was paying attention that meant I was a big fat failure, at least that is what I believed to be the gospel at the time. With that in mind, it was gut-wrenching to see that I was not getting any likes, very little traffic and close to no acknowledgement and recognition.

“Well….I guess it will be all the rage tomorrow.”

The next day I frantically went to my accounts and that “0” was still there; mocking me. Days turned into a week, a week turned into a month and that month became plural, all having one thing in common: that damn “0”!
It was beyond disheartening. What was I doing wrong? How come people didn’t care? Am I that lame that no one bothers? Am I that easy to dismiss and pass over? The paranoia and doubt lingered around me, hinting the stench of failure.

I am sensitive about my shit!

     

It wasn’t until I was on Facebook one evening, bored, scrolling down my timeline. I occasionally rolled my eyes at so and so’s status, chuckled at the hilarious pictures with captions I could relate to—my normal Facebook routine. All was going as predicted until I saw a notification that [blank] liked [blank’s] picture and the only thing I could think was, “But why?” It was the classic sloppy bathroom picture. Bathroom pictures seem to be the hottest trend these days, a trend that I despise. I studied the picture a little while longer, like I do when I am playing a hidden object game. I was trying to understand the attraction for those 178 likes and 11 comments underneath. I found nothing. “Generic”, I said under my breath as I strolled past it, not wanting to admit that I was jealous of a mere bathroom picture.

*blows raspberry*

A couple of days later, boredom had found me alone once again. And once again I was passing the time by seeing what the world of Facebook had to entertain and offer me. Then it happened, something I was so unprepared for, taken completely off guard. My boredom was no longer an issue.
I could feel my eyes widening, head tilting, and jaw slowly dropping to its limit and before I could get comfortable with that expression, my brow began to burrow and my mouth contoured in a frown; because what I was seeing angered me more than shock. I was irate!

573 Likes?!?

There it was, a display of an extra, extra large woman with a multi-colored asymmetrical creation disguised as hair, gold teeth, bending over to show just how cheap and too small her boy shorts were. She proudly showed off her cellulite that had turned into what looked like expired cottage cheese. She was giving her best sexy face as if Drake himself were taking the picture.

I don’t mean to sound callous and ruthless because I believe in being comfortable in one’s own skin and being proud of the body God gave you. I believe that beauty is beauty, no matter what color, shape or form it may be packaged in. But that did NOT apply to “this”! There was nothing beautiful about it yet somehow this Grade A ratchetness accumulated 573 Likes and a ton of comments. Before I could process and label the thoughts in my head I yelled out in frustration: “Has the world gone mad!?! What kind of foolish buffoonery is this!?!”

The frustration was so overwhelming and the fact that my profile picture, displaying a face, outfit and hair coiffed to perfection was awarded by only a single digit---added a bucket full of fuel to the fire.

That was the last straw!

Using my fingers, I aggressively demanded my computer to get me to my status box and to get there quick, fast and in a hurry because I was about to be another mysterious case of spontaneous combustion if I didn’t give a piece of my mind. Along with my ranting and raving about the nonsense I had come across, I wanted an explanation--an explanation from whomever because this dose of reality seemed to zoom over my head!

Explain!

I only got one comment/response but it turned out to be more than enough and meant more than intended I am sure. A male Facebook friend, whom I have never met nor spoken to face to face, eloquently explained that the aforementioned woman was getting attention that he was pretty sure I wanted nothing to do with. He stated how my beauty, talent and potential were more worthy; if not superior to any amount of Likes I could ever receive. And then…it dawned on me. He was absolutely right! I was putting my worth in other’s hands, at their disposal to dismiss or acknowledge.

I had become dependent.

I felt so petty and so very childish. I was embarrassed more than anything that I had allowed it to get that far. I was flabbergasted at how I had readily given over the control of my life to 4 letters: L-I-K-E.

     

How superficial I had become without realizing!

I thanked him for his honesty and for taking the time to calm the fury I had produced. I don’t think he realizes just how much he is accredited for this 180 I have made. My perception changed and so did the agenda for my many social media accounts. Instead of being motivated by the amount of attention I received, I instead became motivated by pure and genuine enthusiasm. If I kept basing my significance on the amount of likes—even if they were to multiply, I would forever be worthless.

I value myself too much to degrade myself to such standards. Not to say that I don’t want or strive for a bigger audience. Like I said in my past post “Attention Whore”, we all want love and acceptance. We, as emotional beings, want to be assured that somewhere, in someone’s eyes we are held in high regard; but to be reliant on that and only that, is like walking onto a battle field with no armor or weapons. It’s emotional and spiritual suicide.
We cannot think of being acceptable to others until we have first proven acceptable to ourselves.

Malcolm X

     

“Well, I think I am pretty damn fly!” I began to say to myself as I continued to post my pictures. “Well, I think this has merit.” I stated as I posted new writing material. I no longer did it for others; I was now doing it for myself. I was no longer trying to prove anything to anyone. This was no longer a competition.

No one’s opinion but my own matters.

The modification of my mindset had me physically feeling different. It was like the cinderblock chained to my feet had slipped away, releasing me to swim to the top, gasping for the deepest breath I could manage. I had dropped the dead weight of others opinions and comparing myself to others.

This revelation was so pivotal to the growth and strength of my diligence. I had refrained from publicizing and marketing myself. I didn’t want to feel the disappointment that I was sure to come by getting no more traffic and recognition than before. I had convinced myself that I couldn’t bear feeling and looking like a “pathetic and desperate fool”. Then I realized how paradox my thinking was! I clearly wanted to gain a more viewers and exposure but I refused to take steps toward it by doing what was the most common sense business and PR strategy: promote. I have more knowledge and privyment of the world and operation of networking and publicity than most. My major was Journalism. Why the hell wasn’t I using it?

*facepalm*

In my post “#WorkHappy” I spoke about the research I did and the outline I had set out to accomplish. In doing such I have gained more status, regard, and connections then I could have imagined. It has exceeded my humble expectations.  A door has been opened, introducing me to a larger and extensive audience. It has been such a revolution and improvement that I am still shocked to see my Likes, Views and Retweets reaching high double-digits. Gaining more followers on Twitter surpassed my prospects, providing me with immense motivation and assurance. At times, I fight back tears and allow a quiet “Really?” to escape my quivering lips. It no longer has superficial components; instead it is composed of my passion, my perseverance and my diligence. Now, even if it is just 1 lonely blue thumbs up, it means the world to me.

Wanting to be liked means being a supporting character in your own life, using the cues of the actors around you to determine your next line rather than your own script. It means that your self-worth will always be tied to what someone else thinks about you, forever out of your control.

-Jessica Valenti

     

xoxo, 
BMynroe


(RaChelle-Denise)

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