The subtle envy of creative types
Something I’ve thought, and not out loud (blogging doesn’t count) is that how do people who aren’t creative live with themselves? How do they get anything out of just going to a job (unless that in itself is creative) eating, sleeping, and doing it all over again. Sure, there’s the joy of spending time with your family, but how can you ONLY do that and nothing for yourself?
It’s perfectly normal to want the people around you to flounder and drop the ball. Sure, you want them to succeed, but only to a point. Take this hypothetical situation, for example. If you start talking about the second act of a play you’re having a hard time breaking, but your neighbor Kevin just trudged home from his job at Aetna Insurance, where he was pummeled all day with dumb questions about policies that are clearly written on the company website and surrounded by shady office politics that had his job at stake, then he probably hates you in that moment. Kevin hates when you complain about having to balance the new website you’re writing for with the old social app you run on the side. It makes him feel like he isn’t doing enough (which he’s not). He might feel this way especially if you work with him at said shitty insurance job or tchotchke-themed restaurant or mindless data-entry cubicle maze with its bland soul-sucking fluorescent beige decor. Having that direct comparison to overachieving you makes him feel inferior.
I don’t think I have anyone in my life right now actively trying to keep me down, but no one’s building me up either. I waited too long for someone to give me permission to pursue the creative outlets I wanted, when you just have to fucking do it yourself.