When I hear about someone else’s success in my field of work I want to grow into Godzilla and smash my fat feet all over the city of Chicago in one big childish hissy fit. The fact that they could be someone I know or a fellow classmate and in my range of age makes it even worse. This rage comes over me and I suddenly feel like becoming the next Disney villain. I WANT WHAT YOU HAVE SO I MUST TAKE IT FROM YOU AGHHHH. I will poison your apple, I will steal your voice, and I sure as hell will take your magic genie. All of this I do in my own imagination of course, because I am too big of a pussy and only an evil bitch in my mind. On the outside I am just a friendly girl from next door, eager to please. But Jesus Christ, I didn’t know how competitive I was until I came to art school. This is on a whole other level than petty high-school sports. It really is a nasty feeling I get inside and the only way I can make myself feel like a better human being is if I click “like” on their Facebook status that says they just got an article published in a Chicago magazine. WONDERFUL. I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU. I KIND OF HATE YOU SO HARD RIGHT NOW BUT I WILL LET IT GO AND CRY TO MYSELF LATER.
That’s the thing, if I totally become my
own therapist I would tell myself that this rage that burns into embers from
the pits of my sensitive, artist’s soul every time a fellow writer shares good
news is basically anger and resentment towards myself, not them. I mean I do mentally picture pulling their hair
until they beg “uncle!” but I know that it’s really just me wanting to do this
to myself. Every new discovery that someone is moving forward with their
writing career makes me reflect on how little
I am doing. Then my anxiety builds and I feel shitty about myself and don’t
know where to start. I wrote a book review this semester that might not even
get published and submitted a story to a bunch of literary magazines that got
repeatedly rejected. Damn look at me go! Some people can just GRIND, you know
what I’m saying? They can just work work work work work and fucking work. I
can’t do that; I cannot be a sane and functional person if I do that. I know it
might sound like a lazy excuse but I think there are just certain types of
people who can be productive everyday all day, working two jobs and working an
internship and going to school all at the same time. FUCK. THAT. SHIT. I would die.
I would probably collapse onto the ground and shit myself. That is just way to
fucking much. I need time to myself and time to actually live for myself. I
will not be society’s bitch! ANARCHY. I do give those kinds of people props
though; I can’t even wrap my head around how you guys do it.
You may find this surprising after what you
have just read, but I am not very good at being negative. You can even ask the
people that know me very well that I am the voice of optimism; sunshine and
rainbows and motivational one-liners that many make fun of me for, but
sometimes I need to let myself be mad and sad, but I only let myself feel these
feelings and think these thoughts for a certain small amount of time. It’s like
my brain has its own countdown and it can sometimes be seconds after a negative
thought, and sometimes can be twenty minutes– like right now, so I basically
get pretty over myself at around this point. Kind of like that one friend who
will complain about their day for what seems like forever when all the shit
that went down didn’t even seem that bad. If she is reading this, she totally
knows I am talking about her and will later use it against me and decide not to
let me have a bite of her pop-tart. What I’ve said now is way too specific and
now she will definitely know I am talking about her. HAH. SORRY I LOVE YOU.
It is pretty hilarious to me that I came to
this trendy little café to do homework and feel like the cool, hip writer that
I feel like I am supposed to be, which is actually working pretty well
cool-factor wise besides the fact that this mocha latte has left my palms super
sweaty, my heart racing, and my digestive system very upset with me. I also
haven’t done any homework yet but
this piece seems to be working out for me on some kind of productive and
ego-boosting level, and it doesn’t make me feel like as much of a lazy asshole
anymore.
That is the beauty of writing I guess.
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