Musing: Marilyns and Jaynes

While watching a clip from one of my favorite movies "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" a thought struck me a few weeks ago. I couldn't really place it so I shrugged it off, knowing it would come back later and today, while listening to a song from Kill Bill Vol. 1 ("I Walk Like Jayne Mansfield" by the 5, 6, 7, 8's) the thought struck again. I'm about to wax philosophic, pop culture style.

The world is full of women wanting to be Marilyn Monroes. They study her mannerisms, her quotes, her way of speaking and strive for that same uniqueness that make up the iconic and enigmatic woman. More often than not though, these women striving to be Marilyns become Jayne Mansfields.

Now back when Marilyn was Thee Woman, there were a lot of women trying to find their stride in the world of moving pictures and with the blonde bombshell on the scene, very few had an actual shot unless they were a "Marilyn Monroe type." And there you have Jayne Mansfield. See, Jayne Mansfield wasn't deeply and importantly talented nor really deeply or importantly interesting, but she had a body for days, blonde hair, and a sometimes crass personality a la, "The Marilyn Monroe Type."

So while Marilyn is somewhere being Marilyn, shying away from too many spotlights and trying to find love, happiness and meaning in her life... Jayne is traipsing about, filling in those blanks left behind while never quite hitting the mark. Is she funny? Sure, but not witty - they laugh at her more than with her. Is she sexy? Yes, but more in the shimmy "look at me!" type of way instead of a smoldering, classy sexy. In short, she's always a step behind.

In this life, there are too many women in the world claiming to be Marilyns when they are indeed Jaynes and Marilyns diminishing their light pretending to be Jaynes. The difference is this: what are you seeking in life? Who are you in life? Are you intrinsically the same in all aspects of your life or do you have different "personas" for different people, places and situations? When defining yourself do you have to use the words "like" or "as" or "I'm a (insert name here) with/without the (insert feature here)?" Simply put, are you being your true self, or who everybody else wants you to be - who everyone else is?

For the longest time I thought I was a Jayne because people treated me like a Jayne, and so I behaved like a Jayne. Only later in my relatively short life did I realize being a Jayne is a waning popularity contest; did people like me? Yes, but only because I was pretending, only because I was being a second rate version of someone else. I was a Marilyn pretending to be a Jayne trying to live up to be a Marilyn...isn't that funny?

All the time I thought I had to be extra to be noticed when in actuality all I had to be was me. I'm witty and funny, sarcastic and sweet, and so many other things that it'd be a cryin' shame for me to pretend the rest of my life to be anyone else. Am I unhappy? Sometimes. Do I sometimes wish there were a rule book entitled "Being Yourself When Everybody Wants You To Be The Same?" Definitely. But would I trade it? Not for nothing in the world. You see, Marilyn went down in history as one of if not the sexiest, coolest women ever, whereas Jayne? She went down as a Marilyn knock-off. And in the end, wouldn't it be wonderful if, by being yourself, you changed the course of history, or at least changed someone's mind? Wouldn't it be great if you went out in this world as you came into it, as yourself?

Be a Marilyn Monroe in a world full of Jayne Mansfields, but don't do it by proclaiming it or by literally being a Marilyn Monroe: do it by living your life, your way. Be someone special by just being who you are.

If There Was a Timer...

If there was a timer that told you exactly when you would meet your soul mate, would you get it?

That's the question posed by the sci-fi romantic drama "TiMER" that I just finished watching and I've been going back and forth with it in my mind ever since. Would I? Wouldn't I?

The main character Oona, has a timer and it's blank, meaning the one she's meant to be with hasn't gotten his yet. In the meantime she frets, and worries, and stays pretty much to herself except for her family and best friend/step-sister Steph (who's timer says she won't meet her true love until she's in her forties). After her latest potential love interest's timer says he's due to find love in two years (and not with her), Oona finds Mikey, a timerless guy who lives his life by the seat of his pants and Steph meets a timerless guy who she finally opens up to. By the end of the movie though, Steph's man gets a timer and finds he is meant for Oona; Oona and Mikey break up, Steph accepts their union and the two vow to get to know each other.

In the end, Oona got what she wanted; she fell in love with Mikey in the process and got her heart broken but yeah, she found true love...supposedly. After she meets the guy at a track and field, the movie ends ambiguously. Does she or doesn't she? Was it the timer, or was it just fate? If you could, would you want to?

Since watching it I've been going back and forth with the idea. If the spontaneity, the mystery and anticipation of not knowing is taken out of it, would we really know when we'd found love? If the guess work and excitement were taken out of it, would we enjoy finding love with another person?

Instantly I related with Oona, as admittedly I'm concerned with my lack of dating experience and could see her point; was wasting time with men who weren't her soul mate really worth it in the end? Steph personified W in a way, not caring about love or time but still finding a lot of it wherever she went, her love life the antagonist of her sister's even though they were both essentially still looking for the same thing.

When looking for love becomes a job in itself, is finding it as sweet? If you knew when and where and how with who, would the journey be any better?

And that's when it hit me: The point isn't the destination, it's the journey. If I knew when all the exciting and special things were going to happen in my life, it wouldn't be as sweet, and it wouldn't be as fulfilling as it would had I just happened up on it. And that's why I wouldn't want a timer... But I won't kid you, it'd be nice to know that there is someone (or a couple people) out there looking for a girl like me; the cost of the journey vs. the knowledge of the end is a hard decision for someone (like me) who likes to know everything in advance.

Needless to say, I'm buying the movie.

My First Classic Movie (And What My Succession of Classic Movies Taught Me)

It all started with "My Fair Lady," when Eliza Doolittle walked down the grand staircase in that breath-taking, glittering gown, her hair piled high, her back straight and her eyes clear and determined. The music swelled behind her and the photography, though grainy and dull on the tv screen was still vibrant, the colors nearly palpable. I'd never seen a woman look so regal and so in command of a screen before. It was then that I discovered my love for classic movies.

When talking movies with people I often feel left in the cold. On the one hand you have the movie dictators; these are the people who are the self-described experts on all things film who tell you what to watch, why to watch it and why not watching it makes you less intellectual than they are. You have the "you're not black if you don't watch/you're not a woman if you don't enjoy," movie people who think that because I'm black I must know every "Friday," "Menace II Society" and "Set It Off" reference, or I must feel some kind of way about Bella and Edward in "Twilight," or know the depths of love felt in "The Notebook" and cry during the final scene in "Titanic." No, I don't watch movies because the cast and I share a race, and no, I'm not a romantic/drama movie sort of girl (plus Titanic was overly long. Seriously, it took the ship how long to sink? Not the three hours I had to sit through the movie, I'll tell you that...).

I've come to realize and accept that some people's perception of "classic" and my own will never ever match up. And I'm completely okay with that...we're just not going to be seeing movies together that often.

Over the years, I've been asked what movies I love, which are my favorites. "My Fair Lady," "The Sound of Music," and Lord knows, "Gone With The Wind," are at the very top because those are the ones I saw early on in life, but I still love others like "All About Eve," "Imitation of Life," and "The King and I." It's not just the attention to detail placed in every frame, every line of script and swell of strings, but the depictions of women as capable, smart, witty and different, and the fact that despite all that, some wonderful, albeit flawed man loves them anyway. The idea that these women were different for their times, Eliza Doolittle, the street urchin turned lady, Maria Von Trapp, the mischievous ex-nun turned wife, mother and singer, or Scarlett, an oddly attractive, bratty, abrasive woman who made the South bend to her will, but still were able to find love, in themselves as well as with others, was astounding to me.

As I got older my collection has expanded. I recently watched "Gigi" starring Leslie Caron for the first time and got the same breathless, exciting feeling as the first time I watched "The King and I," or even "Breakfast at Tiffany's." Gigi, a young girl being taught the ways of a courtesan falls in love with a childhood friend a few years her senior and a few social rungs up the ladder. Instead of becoming his mistress however, by speaking her mind and being herself, clumsy, crass and sassy as she was, she became his wife. The message with this one, as with the rest, remains true: being yourself is a beautiful treasure that you should love and appreciate.

I think that's why I have more movies made prior to the 1960s than any other type. Maybe that's why I watch them on days when I feel down. Maybe, these beautiful, timeless movies remind me of those same characteristics in myself that I feel aren't diluted with time and aren't easily or readily acceptable or accessible. Maybe I love them because they remind me to persevere, always as myself.