Of a hustler. Of a-Of a hustler.
Posts tagged burning with envy.
I don’t want to read your nonchalant facebook status about:
- The famous person who just said hi to you, or, similarly—
- The almost funny thing you “actually thought” when they said hi to you.
- All the great things that happened to you this week if that list exceeds two things.
- How that quote from that famous person who teaches at your school really inspires you this morning, especially not if you’re simultaneously—
- Calling some famous person by their first name because apparently you’re entitled to that now.
BE INSPIRED. BE HAPPY. SAY HI TO FAMOUS PEOPLE. But four feet tall JESUS, can we get over this passive-agressive need to coolly or ironically or WHATEVER share the positive things in our lives? Look, I more than anyone else need to be told to be excited about things every once in awhile. I’m a downer. You get excited about something, I’ll immediately temper that with reserve. I can’t help it: it’s my defense mechanism. RESERVE is one thing. Being A DOWNER is one thing. Not that these things are any more fun to be around than what I’m talking about, but whatever.
I’m so tired of this:
- “Well, I guess it’s been a good week…first I signed a lease on the apartment of my dreams…then I got cast in the next multi-billion dollar movie…then I met, dated, fell in love with, married and had kids with the only man I’ll ever want to be with…and then we got a dog! Guess my life’s not too shabby these days ;) LOL Oh PS I also signed with an agent, won an Academy Award and got my nails done too!!!!!!!”
- “This morning, in Social Activism, Professor Gandhi said, ‘Action expresses priorities.’ Guess those are pretty good words to live by, Mahatma ;)”
- “So Clint Eastwood just said hi to me. I would have said hi back, but all I could think was, ‘Make my day…Clint.’”
I will admit right here and now that I have an incurably jealous personality. I apparently don’t want anyone to be doing better than I am, and if they are, I want them to be so fucking down to earth about it that I’m not even given an opportunity to hate them. Yes, all this probably goes back to my increasing difficulty with sharing my own successes, failures, feelings, thoughts, whatever. It’s not that I don’t want to read about other people’s lives. It’s not even that I don’t want to read about other people’s lives when I don’t like those people (often, I would rather read about their lives). I’m just so sick of this offhand but nevertheless brutal tone in which we, as a generation, share things.
It’s not enough that we have the internet so that I, by deciding to keep my facebook around (a decision that becomes less and less palatable to me), have to keep up with people because I feel badly when I defriend someone who I know will re-add me when they find out, but those same people have to UNFUNNILY play at making their hopes and dreams, their cool experiences, their awesome opportunities some shrug of the shoulder, some “oh you know whatever” remark, said with a wink and a glint in their eyes.