I’ve heard that a real sign of maturity is the ability to be truly happy for others. If that’s true, then I have some growing up to do.
This past Wednesday, a former swimmer from the University of Wisconsin and native of Evanston, IL named Anders had a show premier on Comedy Central that he co-created and stars in. The premier for “Workaholics” has been a long time coming after years of hard work and dedication to his and his friends’ internet comedy group Mail Order Comedy. Their hilarious on-line sketches (I’m a huge fan) caught the eye of Comedy Central producers, and after several delays the show finally premiered last night to positive reviews.
I advertised their show to all my friends. I enjoyed all the commercials on TV and buzz on Facebook. I paraded the Red Eye newspaper around the office to show everyone their picture on the front page. I felt a sense of pride in knowing that I know Anders personally. I watched the show with my girlfriend and her sister and enjoyed it immensely. It was downright funny.
But, as this blog is aiming for brutal honesty, I have to say that their premier has not been an entirely joyous occasion for me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I wanted them to outright fail, but internally I was responding to their success with negativity. A sense of harassing jealousy or envy that has been difficult to shake.
Regrettably, this is not the first time I’ve reacted this way to the success of friends or acquaintances specifically involved in theater, acting, or comedy. I’ve had friends get roles in major motion pictures (Road to Perdition), TV shows (Law & Order, Gossip Girls), or theater productions in Chicago and NYC. Each time I felt a sense of frustration with their advancements in their career.
And these are not enemies. These are good people who have treated me well, and some of them I would even call friends. In this case specifically, Anders has always been friendly with me the few times I’ve met him and even took the time to read my screenplay two years ago and give me insightful and helpful notes. While my tinge of jealousy simultaneously comes with a sense of heavy guilt, I’m not absolved from my nasty thoughts.
Life would be so much more enjoyable if I could truly be 100% happy for others. Imagine: every time someone finds success, my happiness goes up without a smidgen of jealousy or guilt. While I try to live that way, I have not figured out how to do it successfully. I really don’t know why.
Maybe it’s because the reason for some people’s success is not visibly explicit. I don’t get jealous of LeBron James or Tom Brady or Albert Pujols. I wasn’t born 6’8”, 250lbs, with the vertical leap of an antelope. It would be ridiculous of me to look at them and berate myself for not doing what they do. But guys like Mark Zuckerberg, John Mayer, or James Franco are successful too. I’m more similar to them than to Payton Manning. I don’t mean to diminish their genius or skills, but where are my talents? Why can’t I see them?
Maybe it’s because I have been competitive my whole life. I swam competitively for 17 years. In swimming, I raced against other people in the pool at the same time, everyone trying to get to the wall first. But competition went beyond the actual races. By going for top times in the country, or by trying to break long-standing records, I raced against people I had never met. Their recorded times were the ghosts of their accomplishments, and it was customary to be in competition with strangers. In real life, that starts to border on insanity.
Maybe it’s because I feel like I could actually succeed in acting or comedy. You could show me the most successful doctor, lawyer, or engineer and I would probably be very happy for them. Not only do I have no desire to fulfill jobs, but also I know I wouldn’t be successful in them. I’m not wired for it. But I enjoyed acting when I did it. I enjoyed stand-up when I tried it. And I saw glimmers of success in those roles. Maybe I’m delusional, but maybe I’m right.
Maybe it’s because I never gave acting a real shot. I’m not jealous of Michael Phelps. I devoted my life to swimming and walked away content with my accomplishments. I wasn’t the best swimmer in the world, but I know it wasn’t for lack of trying. Acting and comedy have always been a side project, an endeavor of spare time. Maybe my jealousy comes not from witnessing others’ successes but their courage. Some of my friends are struggling their best in the industry and I look upon their efforts with envy. Their attempts make me look cowardly.
Maybe it’s because I feel like a sellout. A life in finance is something that I enjoy, am good at, and am paid well for. And I believe that a level of financial security is a worthy goal. To be able to travel when and where I like. To have a good home to raise a family. To be able to send my children to college without a morsel of difficulty. To be comfortable. But doesn’t that sound like a justification for taking the easy route?
Maybe it’s because I’ve been brainwashed by the celebrity culture. We love our celebrities. It seems that you’re only really deemed successful in this country if you’re rich, famous, and on the red carpet. While I know there are extremes of this mentality (I do not define the cast of Jersey Shore as successful) there is a certain stamp of approval on someone’s success when it’s on the big screen. “They’ve made it” implies I haven’t.
Maybe it’s because I’m not strong enough to believe my own definition of success. I used to get upset by my old swim coach because it seemed that all he celebrated was the success of his best swimmers. In my mind, a personal best by the fastest and slowest swimmers on the team are equal accomplishments. Human development cannot be measured on a single scale. But in reality, it’s more fun to watch the superstars.
Maybe it’s because I got too much support throughout my life. You would think that the need for recognition would originate in a life devoid of encouragement. But I have been lovingly supported. Ever since I was little I had people telling me how successful I was going to be. I was going to win this award or be on TV or in the movies. I heard it so much I started to believe it. Now my expectations are so high I can’t help but feel like I’m failing.
Maybe it’s because I’m self-centered and arrogant and a little lost. Look at what’s going on in the world: earthquakes, violence, poverty, hunger, disease. And all I’m worrying about is myself, lazily filling up my helpless, nagging emptiness with jealousy and envy. I constantly search for greener pastures. It’s pathetic and doesn’t help anyone.
Maybe I just simply have some growing up to do. When I talk to my parents about success, they seem to have such a grasp on the important things in life. They have the crystal clear view of hindsight. They’ve had the joy of having kids and are comfortable and willing to enjoy their life as they’ve made it. I once told my boss that as a kid all I wanted was either an Oscar or Olympic Gold Medal and without them I feel unaccomplished. He said, “Tommy, there are a lot of gold medals in life.”
Maybe I’m too idealistic. I believe that all of us are destined to achieve greatness, but it’s up to us to make it happen. While I am happy in what I’m doing, I can’t help but feel there’s something else that I’m supposed to be doing. It seems like others have it figured out and I’m left behind.
Maybe I’m just kind of an asshole. To be pained by the success or take pleasure in the failure of others, even remotely, is just a petty and dickish way to live my life.
Or maybe……I’m just human.
I don’t know. It’s probably somewhere in between.
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