It kills Dave that I watch shows like American Idol and Project Runway. It is not difficult, but I really try hard to avoid Dancing With Stars. If on a Monday Night the remote ever falls on ABC, I know how easy it is for me to get sucked into the low-class-and-addictive vortex of third tier celebrities dancing their Ballroom Dances in the arms of Derek Hough, Cheryl Burke or Maksim Chmerkovskiy. I know if Dave finds me watching Donny or was it Marie dance their sweet dance moves, I fear his head may literally explode. Wow! I know way too much about this show!
This all being said, I would like to think my marriage is full of love and compromise. See, when summer rolls around Dave actually indulges my love of So You Think You Can Dance. He often knows the characters and will sit with me and watch the entire show sometimes. Yay Dave!
So late last night when Dave found me watching the end of American Idol, I knew I was taking a huge risk when I asked,
“Hey, Dave, so, um, there is this guy you really need to see. Phillip Phillips. His performance was awesome and he stood on his own two feet. This kid knows who he is. How refreshing!”
“Well then, You better get to it quick. Push four. Push four. You will get to it faster.” (Four on the remote is the fastest fast forward speed, by the way.) Dave impatiently instructed, watched and even said something like, “Wow! That was really good. That was way better than the original!”
“It was, wasn’t it? I can’t stand the original and I love this version! Hey, now listen to what the judges say. See, before the show, this kid was styled by Tommy Hilfiger and mentored by Diddy or is it Sean Puffy and he ignored them all. He used his guitar and HE WORE GREY!”
Dave listened and seemed almost as impressed as me. As I Googled Phillip Phillips I found a great retell:
From CTV NEWS: The 21-year-old pawn shop worker from Leesburg, Ga., defiantly wore grey after style adviser Tommy Hilfiger deemed it too drab. He shrugged off musical mentor Diddy’s mandate to dance.
And he turned out a growling “Movin’ Out” during an evening of Billy Joel tunes on the talent contest Wednesday that Randy Jackson called “one of the best renditions of that song ever.”
Way to go Phillip for reminding us in the crazy, overly-consumed-reality-television-show world, that we can push back and still be ourselves. Seriously, WAY TO GO! Don’t, please don’t forget who you are!
. . . Interestingly enough, a few short hours before I watched American Idol, I was walking down the street with Dave killing time before Kyle’s choir concert. As we walked, we talked and I happened to mention that I am finally figuring out, well, re-figuring out that I just need to be myself.
“See Dave,” I said as we walked, “I have always marched to my own drum. You know that more than anyone. My problem is the times I desperately try to fit in. I do this because for me to get ahead, I think I have to. It never works. Not only does it not work, but when I try to force myself into a box, the box explodes and it ends in abysmal disaster. I should always remember to be me. Like, say, with Pinterest. I am just not Martha Stewart, a crafty Mormon Mom or Dwell Magazine. For starters, I keep feeling so lost with Pinterest (*this is a whole other post, by the way), because I cannot find the pretty pictures of rocks or locate the most awesome fancy Cake Pope Recipes. The problem is, I do not care about pretty rocks or Cake Pops. Instead or if anything, I am interested in things like pictures of angry children or pictures of seeing what shows up in the grass when the snow melts.”
With that I pulled out my camera and started taking pictures of items in the melting snow. My favorite was the Pabst Blue Ribbon can I saw in front of the Mormon Church. “How ironic?” I laughed.
“Come on. Let’s keep walking.” Dave encouraged and then said something like, “Things that show up in melted snow are much more interesting than paint colors. Be yourself. Yourself is good.” (Here is another reason I love Dave.)
“That’s it, Dave. See when I was a little girl. I knew who I was. Instead of wearing pink like all the other girls did, I chose yellow. It was deliberate and I wanted to be different. I like different. Then when I find myself trying to step into another box, I laugh. Truth be told, I don’t even like boxes.”
“That is true.” Dave said and laughed.
“And recently I realized that I am killing myself when I am not me. Sure, I need to be respectful of others, but I can be me. Cake Pops be damned!”
And this is how it happened, I don’t exactly if it was an Easter Dress, a Tap Dance Ensemble or School Outfit. It was my choice and I chose yellow. I distinctly remember saying:
“All girls LOVE pink! All girls wear a lot of pink! I want my own color.” I also remember, because I wanted to make sure I was happy with my color choice, I paused, thought about it for another minute or two and exclaimed, “Wait! No one ever picks yellow. I chose yellow.”
And so it was.
When it doubt, remember to choose yellow. Always choose yellow!