People hate it when you’re good at stuff
People, here, meaning others.
Others meaning not-me’s.
Not-me’s still sometimes meaning myself.
People hate it when you’re good at stuff!
Usually! Unless they’re just like you, then they recognize your excellence, no problem. WHO AM I, to blame some poor nameless “other” for my woes.
Have you read rainbow fish? The one about the beautiful fish, that shares its rainbow scales because everyone picked on it so much, it ripped its own skin off?
Isn’t that how rainbow fish goes? Oh, right. It’s about sharing gifts, not skin-picking…
When you’re good at stuff, people target you. They get jealous, they get insecure, and they look for a way to feel equal. Some people’s idea of “equality” is abusive, instead of supportive. Rainbow fish’s idea of equality is about sharing/self-mutilating. I jest I jest, but do I?
Confident, self-assured, well adjusted folk don’t mind other people’s talents so much. This confidence seems to be unachievable for most young people, so I’m tempted to mix age in there too. I’ve met enough older people who are hopelessly insecure to now know as fact that age is irrelevant. Time is hugely variable. It doesn’t always result in the wine getting better. Some people just turn into vinegar.
My grapes are sour, damaged, wrinkly little prematurely-picked pucks. They’re crusty yet soft; too old to be fresh, but too fresh to be raisins. Moldy? Getting there.
Point is–I’ve all but given up on being a fine wine.
I’m on a quest to be the crispest, strongest, full-bodied, most umami vinegar that ever was. Fuck having kids; my goal is to be a secret ingredient. I want to take everyone’s tastebuds to the next level, and then a few hundred more. I work at my skills so that the fruits of my labor will mature into something truly toothsome. I want others to then take my wine, take my vinegar, and gleefully douse themselves in it.
Why wouldn’t I? What greater compliment is there, than to collaborate. To imitate, to appropriate. Nothing creative is without inspiration. Why perpetuate the myth of genius? There is no such thing. There is only inspiration, and those who inspire. If you are burdened with insight, crippled with vision, derailed by bursting inspiration; you have a responsibility to share it with the world. No idea is new, no feeling is unique. Everyone lives, dies, loves and tries to survive. We’re all riffing with the same material.
We need to be self-assured enough to share. We need to listen carefully enough to understand, empathize, and strategize. Brave enough to inspire, and confident enough to be inspired.
But, but but, BeCkY… Expressing myself is SCARY and vulnerability is EXHAUSTING and putting myself out there all the time has literally broken my heart, soul, body, mind and sense of self!!!!
Shut up, dumb bitch! That sucked. You suck. Your art is stupid. Your paintings suck. You fucked up that concert. Your tenses are all over the place. Who taught you how to write, yahoo answers!?!?
Rejection is really awful. My approach to rejection is that it is mandatory. If you’re creating good shit, it is absolutely required to be rejected a lot. If you haven’t been rejected thoroughly, you can’t be accepted thoroughly. It’s my “Count of Monte Cristo” theory. It works for absolutely everything.
I’ve been called dumb, stupid, idiot, bitch, fool, retard, fathead, pig, redneck, cunt, and imbecile enough to know that these are all just words people use to describe something that scares them. We are all the same, we are all made of the same things. When others use words like this, they are talking about themselves. If you’re doing something, and someone sees fit to bring you down, you very well might be onto something…
It takes nerve to hit nerves.
It takes pervs to know pervs.
Let’s swerve for Hors d’oeuvres.
Don’t call people stupid, none of them are. Lots of people are ignorant, but it never helps to let them know that. Also, spoiler alert: YOU ARE IGNORANT AS FUCK. Everyone is. It is impossible to not be ignorant. We will all die, extremely ignorant. How ignorant you are depends entirely on how curious you are. I try (and often fail) to be as curious as possible. I am proud to be ignorant, and to be aware of it. I am a proud, ignorant American pig with no sense of tradition. I’m working on my pride flag.
Why not listen to someone ramble on and on about something they are passionate about? Passion is good for your heart. If you aren’t, you can try to get a spark off of someone else. Talk to someone. Read someone’s perspective, listen to a live show. Live music is very special, and sometimes it is even worth putting up with other homosapiens. You could be the most bold, you could be the most brave; you could try to create something of your own.
If you aren’t fine wine, you can still be somebody’s vinegar.
Oh and I guess if you’re talented, you are obligated to pick your beautiful rainbow scales off, and pass them around to everyone in class.