It was a Thursday afternoon. My daughter was napping and I was sitting, minding my own business, looking at my Facebook when a window popped up with people who have decided to mention me in the last month or so. Curiosity killed the cat. To my better judgment I stumbled (I’m using that term very lightly) on a comment that said, “Did Tammin Sursok actually happen? Did I imagine her?”. To which someone responded, “She tried to have a music career so there is that.”. The age old question, WHERE ARE THEY NOW?! Poor darling, must be sitting in a ditch somewhere where the lack of success has rendered her homeless. No home, no career, no hope.
So I sat there with a WTF look on my face. Um, did this person not know that I’ve been working in the same field for the last 12 more successful years?! That I have been lucky enough to support myself from nothing other than that same career? Not that me talking to my computer could change that guy’s perception of me as having disappeared from the limelight. But you see, there’s the rub. When you stop being on the frontal lobe of someone’s brain (i.e continually blasted on a night time soap that this guy watched after he got home from work), then, in their mind, you cease to exist. You are now a “WHERE ARE THEY NOW”. A sad sob story of your perceived “lack of success”.
The funny thing about career is that it’s endless. A career is not a period of time where the said person crosses your path when you’re doing something the said person is interested in. Careers don’t just end abruptly and ambition doesn’t just shrivel and die. The evolution of oneself and the definition of one’s career shifts and molds and bounces and breaks. The sooner we can stop quickly judging a person’s lack of success merely because they are out of visual reach and start to become curious of their newly found life, their rebranded career, then I think it becomes a more positive way to define success.
So I sit and decide to not let this guy shit on what I’ve achieved. He doesn’t get the right to affect my life, my week, my day. What takes up most of one’s time before others see the two moments of ‘success’ is the work. The work takes a fucking long time. It’s sweaty, it’s grimy, it’s unpleasant and it’s not for the faint hearted. And the work comes in long blocks wedged between euphoric sound bites. I hope that this guy doesn’t take a pause in his career to problem solve his next move. For then he might just disappear. He’ll be the next WHERE ARE THEY NOW.
‘Til next time friends,