I love you. I hate you.

I'm not the only one of my kind. Of the dozens upon dozens of friends from the neighborhood, college or theater internship who trucked out West around the same time I did, a few of us, less than one hand's worth, came to be actors. I'd say most people who move to L.A. with aspirations of industry employment probably expect it in front of the camera, as they say. The smarter and more likely to succeed want to be writers, directors, producers or the like. Now, these positions are NOT easily attainable, but there is a little bit more of a broad pecking order to eventually lead to the top of the mountain. You start out as a Production Assistant, or an Office Secretary; you take an unpaid internship. Your name begins to come sooner and sooner in the scrolling credits, maybe even during the first outro music selection. Acting is similar, however the possibility for upward mobility is more specific and limited. To become a Producer, one does many other semi-related jobs over the years beforehand. To be an actor, one really has only one recourse: to act.

I'm not sure why my inner circle of friends is largely not concerned with acting, but I like it. When someone gets a new job as a Director's Assistant, I'm truly happy for them. It's not offensive or jealousy-inducing knowing that they'll be working with and meeting the actors I admire; they're not acting with them. A couple buddies recently got repped by a pretty legit literary agency. If you live in town, you've probably heard of it. If you don't live in town, you know some of the shows this place staffs. Now, although I do fancy myself a bit of a novice writer, I never really pursued any sort of realistic representation or connection within that arm of the entertainment-industrial-complex. So when my buddies signed the first of many dotted lines, I was jazzed as hell. Despite what I may have intimated in the past, you (and I) can indeed maintain or establish friendships even though so much of your existence is geared towards self-centered success. When one of mine scores the game winning goal, the whole team still wins.

Even when one of the few fellow actors makes a splash. My buddy Brian recently booked a sweet ass gig: touring various fringe festivals the world over with sort of a new age vaudevillian act. This dude's going to Canada, Scotland, Australia; earning shittons of money, per diems, probably eating and drinking a shitload of free stuff at bitchin' after parties, banging strange, foreign pussy and performing his own musical stuff on the side to panhandle and make a bit of side cash. Sounds pretty awesome, yeah? Yeah. Fuck that guy.

Now, I was actually at Brian's place the night he came back from this audition. And a few minutes later when he got a weird, inside, CIA phone call basically telling him it was his if he wanted it. We were pumped up, he started drinking, and all of us were extremely proud of him. We still are proud of him; I was still proud of him a few weeks later when I ran into him at (one of many of) my local watering hole(s). By this point, much more was set in stone, as he detailed the travel itinerary, the dollar amounts specifically (something I NEVER do), and the hyped-up stories he had heard of tours past. Slowly, while still impressed and happy for the guy, my deep rooted, I mean truly evil-spirited asshole began to rear his ugly, puckered, brown head: really? this guy? the guy who's been out here half as long as me? Who doesn't even have representation? Who came out here to be a musician OR an actor? IS THERE NO FUCKING JUSTICE IN THIS TOWN?!?!?!

Now, I must stress that these bitter, jealous thoughts were simultaneously alongside emotions of true pride and happiness for my friend. For as good at corralling human emotions for fictitious portrayals as actors are supposed to be, sometimes it's damn near impossible to decide which one to actually feel or express. 

If I'm nothing else, I'm honest, so as he's walking out of the pub, probably the last time I'll see him for a few months, I express what's on my mind: "Hey dude, I'm seriously happy as hell for you, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous as hell of you." Brian laughs, then retorts back:

"Yeah, y'know, every one of my acting friends has said the exact same thing."

Phew. Turns out I'm not that big of a cock after all. I guess it's an acting thing, or maybe a human nature type thing. It's that undying competitive streak that every actor better have lurking inside of himself or herself if they think they're going to last in this town. I would have been a weirdo or worse, a clearly transparent, lying pussy if I didn't feel that way and express it so. 

And after hearing that from him and getting my thoughts off my chest, I honestly don't feel that way anymore. It's not like I haven't had some moments of otherworldly success in my journey (not as monumental as a World Tour, but still). Perhaps some of my pals have had similar conflicting sentiments on the issue. At the end of the day, this isn't some jamoch I met at a stand up club or worked with at one of my menial crap-fuck day jobs I've had. This is a buddy from back in the day, the college sketch group, kicking ass in our Shakespeare class, partying like we were the working actors we are now. 

The jealously imposed on you when a true friend hits a milestone before you can be turned into a positive motivator. It has to be, otherwise you'll just be a bitter prick for the rest of your days. So while you're not the one scoring the kick-ass gig, you know now that you've got some catching up to do. It ain't about your buddies success anymore. It's about yours, and what you're going to do to obtain it. While there might not be much you can physically do to immediately turn your fates around, you can be aware of what needs to take place. Maybe go jog for a few laps, get that belly toned up. Maybe find a crew and shoot some stupid videos. Maybe call up that old buddy of yours who's got a manager and is always asking to get together with you. When someone else hits it, it seems so effortless (even though it obviously isn't), you want to work harder to try to do something special yourself. 

So no, I'm not the one going going to Canada, Scotland, Australia; earning shittons of money, per diems, probably eating and drinking a shitload of free stuff at bitchin' after parties, banging strange, foreign pussy and performing my own musical stuff on the side to panhandle and make a bit of side cash. But one of my buddies is, and that's awesome. So I love him, and I hate him, but what's good for the goose is always good for the gaggle. 

But what the fuck would I know, I'm just an actor.