The following is a rant I wrote for my funniest writer friend,
Imogen, who asked me to guest star (that's right, I said guest star) on
her blog, http://imogenthinksalot.blogspot.co.uk
Thank
you to Imogen for the content prompt; of all the titles she gave me I, of
course, chose the one that sounded the most bitter. Enjoy, share, roll your
eyes, whatever.
It
is the ultimate disappointment to log on to LinkedIn and find the idiots you went
to school with are now financiers in The City earning about triple your salary.
Or to log in to Facebook to see gloriously tanned “friends” jet-setting around
the world getting paid to write, or do PR, or work on TV shows. Or the fellow
dancers that you trained with who are now gorgeous and muscled and have long
since surpassed you in talent, now treading the board in West End theatres or
filming music videos in the desert.
Me? I wanted to be a choreographer or a male Carrie Bradshaw writing for Gay Times. Instead, I work in a firmly uncreative job but for a company I love, in a buzzing office where I've made some great friends and have some real opportunities ahead of me. And yet every day, while glaring at my Excel spreadsheets, I curse myself that I'm not the next Hofesh Shechter or hopping out of my apartment with a leather satchel on my way to writing a tell-all piece on being a fabulous 20-something homosexual.
Were my dreams unrealistic? Perhaps, a little. But do I still regret some of the choices that led me here instead of there? Definitely.
I look to my left and see friends buying houses, while I stare at my Natwest app and weep a little. I look to my right and see friends dancing away at LA festivals, or wandering around European cities and wonder how the hell they afforded their plane ticket. I look on Instagram and see previously podgy friends now rocking great arms and a six pack (that one sucks a lot). I look at myself and think…James you're doing none of that. You're just floundering.
And this is the curse of your 20s. Trapped between “I should grow up and start saving for future me” and “fuck this I'm young, I don't want to look back on my youth and think I wasted it!” Continual questions flood my already over-processing mind. Questions such as: Should I pack it all in, think about a grown up job sometime in the future, and run off to do the tour around America I’m desperate for? Or do I stick at the career, work my way up, get on the property ladder and just try to make an effort to do more interesting things with my weekends? Should I completely push my style boundaries and wear some on-trend outfits that turn heads? Or do I stick with what I know because I look good in it? Should I be taking more photos to document every move I make? Or do I stick in this weird middle ground where I half-heartedly hashtag my photos with #instagay so that I get ten more likes, for a purpose that I’m still not quite sure of? In this do-it-put-it-on-Facebook world, where it’s absolutely common and acceptable to see the woman next to you at the hairdressers take a selfie of her hair being shampooed (I mean genuinely who gives a shit?), it’s hard to shake the feeling that you’re not keeping up, despite the fact that many people reading this will be nodding their heads in agreement.
I will always be grateful for the ability to make friends easily, where others wallow in social awkwardness. I will always be appreciative of having a good education (should I choose to use it one day) where others struggle with words. I will always be comforted by my many siblings and that I get along with them all so well, where others wonder how they even share the same gene pool as theirs. I will certainly look around me and be thankful for my lot…but if all you tanned, successful, well-travelled, creative friends could fuck off and live your fabulous lives away from The Gram, that would be great. Ta.
