For Annie and Mary Lou
“I won my medal for the Olympics on a Friday night. Saturday morning the headlines said, a star is born overnight. I kind of chuckle because I think, where did the nine years go that I put into this.” –
It’s tough being a performer – if it wasn’t, everyone would do it. Right? RIGHT?? HAHAHAHAAhaahahahahhaha -*GUNSHOT*.
So, why is it tough? Because of all the rejection? Well, yeah, mostly. That fucking sucks. But it’s also tough because you can’t just sit there being talented. There is a big difference between “talented” and “working”. You can be talented in a box in the river until fish eat your nose and it’s not going to do you any good. So when I get down in the dumps about it all, when I am snivelling on the floor of my apartment asking God what I’m doing wrong and why nobody likes me enough to employ me and why my giant cat won’t stop making biscuits on my boobs, I think of Mary Lou Retton.
Mary Lou Retton was talented. But she also went to the gym from 7-11 am every day, then school, then back to the gym from 5-9. Do you think she got tired sometimes? Sure, and she could have given up any time. But she didn’t, instead she won 5 Olympic medals.
That training wasn’t just something a talented girl did to bide away her time until the world recognized her innate special-ness. That work – not talent – won Mary Lou those medals. Every time she fell off a balance beam or fucked up on a dismount, she was getting closer to a gold medal – each stumble was part of her path. If it was all just talent, she could have just spent 2 years eating ring dings and calling Menudo fan hotlines, and just waltzed up to collect her medals whenever she felt like it.
That idea inspires and scares me. Because, I think I’m talented, but so what? There are about a hundred other girls buzzing around, learning how to work. I have to stay a step ahead of the ones behind me or else their plain jane, hard working, untalented asses are going to go take all my jobs. My special magical snowflake of talent doesn’t mean squat next to a whippersnapper with a full tank of hard work in her.
Talent, shmalent. Keep working.
March 4th, 2008 at 2:23 pm
Wow…
Your post couldn’t have come at a better time. I was actually having very similar thoughts all morning. Although I don’t have a cat nor boobs thus not allowing for the biscuit making scenario, I was nearly balled up on the floor in some type of anxious panic thinking about my situation. All the talent in the world doesn’t mean shit if you don’t have the drive to put it out there. There are many a day when I wake up and feel like I am mailing it in, but don’t sweat it ’cause I am talented as fuck at what I do and, I guess, valuable for it. That, my newly minted friend, doesn’t do fuck all to pay the bills. Hard work keeps the motor running and the meter filled. All the talent in the world possessed or imagined, as you so brilliantly point out, is easily replaced with limited means and a whole lot of hard work, thus making me expendable. God that’s scary.
Work with balance – enjoying what talent God has given us – is the speed at which I choose to operate. Work too hard and the talents feel overextended and under appreciated. Work too little and the talents are wasted. Work with balance and not only does one feel good about their station, but others will appreciate the vigor with which your talents are expressed. Leading, hopefully to success. Rambling, yes…yes I think I am…
Your point as well as your gift – at least from my humble perspective is greatly appreciated. Too bad I can’t hire you…thus validiating your predicament.
March 4th, 2008 at 3:38 pm
All you need is a big, mustachioed Eastern European dude yelling at you all the time. Then you’ll be golden.
March 4th, 2008 at 7:10 pm
“Talent cannot be denied… forever. But at the end of the day, it’s still about who you know.” -Rob Riggle on his success
March 4th, 2008 at 9:51 pm
“Talent, shmalent.“
March 9th, 2008 at 11:40 am
Watch the movie “Ghost” again; then take a penny. Choose a shiney penny in a symbolic year if you have lost someone. Now take an unlubricated condom, insert the penny and swallow it. You will now have that penny inside you, a deep and abiding, if temporary, connection to the spirit world.
Either that or use the condom to get screwed. I knew your tits were fake.
