Humility

Humility is learned.

None of us are born knowing that we’re supposed to hate Milli Vanilli, New Kids on the Block, Britney or Christina. It’s something we pick up from snide comments people utter when we mention them in the list of our favorite singers. (Not to be interpreted literally, as these are not my favorite singers, not that there’s anything wrong with them.)

A friend once told me that she snuck in to Walmart when no one was looking. She said normally she wouldn’t be caught dead in there. I stare at her but spare my words. She’s just the type of person who’d bring a Tiffany’s baby spoon to a baby shower. So Walmart’s not cool, Target’s not cool. K-Mart is definitely out.

Jake and I spent one of our most fun days in a Walmart down in Florida. We walked up and down the aisles, playing with the toys, buying legos, silly putty, soap bubbles and many more fun stuff. God forbid, my friend had seen us there.

Another pattern I see often is people bragging about not reading Bestsellers. I never read anything on the bestseller list, I’m so cool. There’s a long list of unacceptable writers any literary person would be glad to inform you of. (ending your sentences with a preposition? Way uncool.) Same goes for the movies, of course. Good God, I’d never watch a major motion picture, only small artsy movies are good enough for me.

Just like mass audience approval doesn’t make a movie or book amazing, it also doesn’t make it awful.

For me, it’s gotten to a point that saying you wouldn’t be caught dead reading a Grisham novel makes me think less of you than if you claimed you adore Grisham. I hate that people think they are allowed to judge others and saying you wouldn’t be caught dead doing something is totally judging others, even if it’s not explicit.

I wish we lived in a world where others wouldn’t tell you what to do. From the time we go to school we’re taught which writers to read. We’re taught which painters to like. Critics decide which movies we should see and what Broadway shows are the best of the year. And these are just the obvious set. There’s peer pressure, which is the worst. So is parental influence. And the list goes on and on.

I wish we’d never be taught to be embarrassed of who we are. Of having our own taste, whether it be Grisham or Joyce.

I read bestsellers and see blockbuster movies, just the same way I read books that are considered literary works and movies that are artsy. And I’m proud of it!

And I love Walmart.

Previously? Six Degrees.