Have you ever been to one of those high school, or middle school reunions? I have been saved the pleasure, however, once in a blue moon I wonder what happened to all the people from back then? As I don’t spend a lot of time in the village where I went to school from 6-15 and the town where I did high school, I don’t usually bump into these people, so most I haven’t seen for ten or so odd years, some I can’t even remember the names of and some I have forgotten existed altogether.
My school years can be summed up like this:
Pre-school: fantastic.
1st-2nd grade: awesome.
3rd-6th grade: awful.
7-9th grade: nice class, but I was a geek and the rest of the class weren’t that popular either, so we stuck together, but out of them, maybe three people could have been called my friends. Or two.
High School: generally great.
Now, when I was a kid I used to imagine that one day I’d prove to the suckers that thought they were so cool that I was, simply, cooler. I was going to win their respect. It’s all very backwards when you think about it, because why would you want the respect of people who treated you badly? Only because you wish you had been accepted by them of course. You can battle your conscience and say that you just wanted to tell them to fuck off in the grandest manner possible, in a manner were they were forced to listen and couldn’t just shout “geek” and turn their backs, but truth be told: I wanted them to accept me back in the day, so that I could live a normal life and go to parties and hang out with everyone. I wanted them to love me, so that I could love myself. I had not been taught to love myself, so I was dependent on others, no matter how little I liked them. I was an ass kisser, basically.
Let’s put it this way: being a nerd gave me a lot of drive – the ultimate dream was to wave an Oscar in front of their faces, having a zillion photographers snap my picture, whilst holding hands with everyone’s wildest fantasy.
Only, love does not come to you because you win an Oscar and hold hands with the coolest dude in town.
You hear story after story about drug abuse, therapy, misery and so on in Hollywood. Most famous people seem about as happy as your local neighbor who owns neither Porsche, nor have a personal stylist. In fact, they seem a lot more miserable. Why? Because they are great talent that followed their hearts? Or because fame, to them, was a benchmark and when they reached it they discovered that their goal meant nothing?
Goals are fabulous things. I want to have a hot tub and an outdoor shower, so sooner or later I am bound to figure out how to earn enough money to get it. However, a hot tub does not make me love myself more or give meaning to my life. I need a grander purpose than that to feel that my life has a thrill. Helping people, for me, has always been that purpose – or to be perfectly honest, the purpose I have nailed down is: Creating positive change. Because for me the means to help is to create. That’s what I do, what I love. When I don’t create I feel dead. Right now, I make movies, I write, I work on a company, money or not, fame or not, I do what I love in that sense. All I do that can be noticed is this blog (and doing something direct instead of only doing things that may pay off three or fifty years from now is immensely important, because otherwise you may still feel you are wasting your life). I get confirmation from time to time that people read it and it does help them. That is much nicer than Oscars. I would, however, like to be famous if that would give me means to reach out to and help more people. As an artist, as an entrepreneur, you cannot help but want to be famous, because you want a large audience and a large amount of customers. There is a difference between fame and ego though. I’m not yet totally over the ego bit. Also, everything changes constantly and there is a huge difference between living your purpose and expecting to reach the goals you have set for yourself. No one can stop you from doing a kind act a day, but there are a hell of a lot of ifs and buts if you want something in return for it, or if your goal is to be the next Richard Branson, ahem…
Basically, live your purpose now. If you are an actor – strive to be the best you can be, constantly practice so that whenever you perform, you give the audience joy. Constantly do plays, shorts, etc. because then you get to do what you love now. Strive to go to where you want to be. Don’t expect an Oscar. Then you may have to wait forever to become happy. Furthermore, don’t expect people to love you because you get an Oscar. You are still you, remember? If anything, some will hate your guts for being successful. Do things that make you feel happy about being you and others will be happy for you too. They will love you, just like you love being you. Don’t count on their love though. Things change. All you carry with you eternally are the feelings inside you. I know, this is obvious right. But there are a lot of unhappy people out there and that used to include me.
I would love to find out what happened to some of the people in my past out of curiosity, but I’m not in need of walking into a school reunion just to make sure they all know what a smashing change I have undergone. Thinking about my childhood only makes me appreciate so much more the wonderful people I have in my life these days. I actually had a shock thinking about it. Not because I didn’t know that they are wonderful, but because the contrast is so overwhelming. And it makes it even more mad to think that you’d still want to impress some dicks you haven’t seen for ten years.
I have stunning people in my life. I’m so God damn blessed. An Oscar would be nice to have on my desk, because then I’d probably have a bit more money to make movies and create companies, but he sure as hell wouldn’t call me back. Nor would any of the fans, the reporters, etc. Most of them would probably rejoice in the fact that I was seen snogging two guys in the same week. Not that I’d do that.. Seriously, I have as much party appeal as a rag doll – I’m happier meditating in the woods, unless it’s a party of happy people actually looking to have a good time, not to show off their Pradas (she says and pushes her Prada glasses up her nose…come on, I love them…).
Point being: I know I’m a good wet dream. I don’t need the rest of the world to dream that dream. Just this one guy, yeah…
What we don’t need others to tell us, right? …or maybe just this one person…
