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Am I delusional, or are friends part bliss and part blisters?
I'll admit it; I live my life like a TV show. I have a sidekick, a few regular characters and a varying cast of extras. I try to be a character the public will enjoy and can relate to. I have "May Sweeps" epic-dramas that either draw people in or push them away. I try to show growth with each season and find ways to write out characters who weigh the show down.
I am my own little Aaron Spelling, pumpkins, and I am fine with that.
But my show is not one of those nighttime dramas with torrid pool scenes and vengeful sex. Mine is the situation comedy in the Thursday 9:30pm timeslot. Yes, must-see Thomas.
Lately, though, I feel like the show is losing ratings. The main character is getting tired. The story lines deal with harder-hitting issues, and, well, most of the cast just doesn't know how to relate to it.
I am not signing off the blame. I will take this and own it like Imelda owns shoes.
I built my entire show around a character that wasn't real. I mean, parts were real, but most was escapist fantasy — what I thought the public wanted to watch. Who cares if some characters hate the show if the public loves it? Everyone wants to see the next adventure, new hairstyle, latest look. Everyone wants to know who is sleeping with whom, why, and whether they can sleep with them, too. Everyone wants to be seen with or publicly hate the star. It's cheap, it's demeaning, it's empty. And it is my 20s.
The most poignant and painful life lesson I have learned in my 20s, thus far, is that people aren't always what they appear. Friends aren't always friends. Sometimes they are people who align themselves with what they think the public values, even if that public is a small social circle. Some are around only when the spotlight is on and cameras are rolling. They do not stand by you in crisis or even care about you beyond that half-hour timeslot.
Then there are friends who are with you no matter what. They laugh and cry with you, allow it to be all about you when you need it, and are comfortable asking for the spotlight when they need it. They want to know the actor behind the character, the writer behind the show.
I have spent most of my 20s writing a script to please the public — the people in my life — and never once stopped to think what would please me. I didn't think I deserved the accolades, honors, or attention. I only deserved boos, slander, and criticism.
As I approach my 30s, I feel like a child star pondering the transition to adult. No, I don't have delusions of stardom; I simply mean that feeling that everyone is watching and judging as you fumble through your awkward periods. All those things that were so important to me don't seem that important anymore. The same techniques don't apply. People look different to me, and that is a bit deflating.
At some point, every person reaches a precipice and has to make a decision: take the strength, knowledge, and faith acquired through ballsy life lessons and jump into the unknown, or play it safe, go back and set up camp? It is a hard choice for some; others know the answer the minute they hear the question.
I started out this column with a simple question, intending to amuse and incite with a shallow and simple answer. Somehow, I went deeper than I expected and touched on things I didn't even know I wanted to touch on — sort of like the transition from 20s to 30s.
That original question was "are friends part bliss and part blisters?" For me, the answer is this. Life is part bliss and part blisters. It is those blisters that, even though they hurt like your holiday credit card bill, add character, strength, and stamina to your life. People are human; friends are not always what we would like them to be. The important thing is that we are what we would like ourselves to be.
Being gay has taught me the same lesson. I live in a community where there is great love and great hate. Both will affect me and contribute to the person I am becoming. The key is to never lose sight of myself and be true to myself above all others.
All right, that is it. I have gotten way too "self help-y" for this boy's liking and must go take a bath and tear apart what people wore to the Oscars.
But before I do, let me thank you. Thank you for listening, being a part of my show, and letting me be a small part of yours.
Okay, I have got to stop or someone is going to give me my own talk show.
