Why would someone want you to be jealous of them?

It’s a petty topic and not one hardly worth mentioning at all, but it’s still something I’ve yet to wrap my mind around.

Let's rewind a decade ago when I was in Acting School.

Back then a was a bright starry-eyed teenager who saw my name nowhere else then up-in-lights. As mundane as that expression may sound, there was a validity of self-expression to be pursued in the entertainment medium that isn’t not attainable by very many people that felt like a perfect fit for myself.

Giddily I’d race through the storefront turned Sound Stage Turned Dance Studio, doors of KD Studio Actors Conservatory. It was 2010 , the uniform was standard the infamous skinny jeans a Louis Vuitton belt, my bag slung over my shoulder jam packed with school textbooks plays, and a score of sheet music. Back then I rocked a small afro because I didn’t understand the importance of an edge up in the Western World at the time. I’d easily taken my seat amongst the initial 24 (18 dropped out by graduation) and mouthed the lines of my initial monologue.

The “students” have already selected their favorite people within the first week, and I was not one of them. Albeit I was sitting on the fact that I’d already recorded my first album that had made waves on the online independent circuit and was simply looking to branch out.

Like some sort of twisted army, they gave their 6th grade talent show performances, and burst into tears on command, something I blatantly refused to do of which my instructors that was alarming that I was no easy candidate for their hypnosis.

After these “students” would give their lack luster performances they’d march back to their chair, noses high in the air as if this, that they’ve presented was worth an Academy Award Nomination. I had my money stacked more so on a Razzie Award Nomination, let alone if anything of that quality could garner any such attention.

“Hey Al, didn’t I do such a good job? Can you see that on television?” Some blond would quip after giving a juvenile performance.

“Yes, days of our lives, like a Soap-Opera”.

She’d squeal in delight and later appeared to school predicting my wardrobe from flannels to jeans. I paid not very much attention to that, because I wasn’t ready to be a dad. Near graduation, this individual was 8 months pregnant with someone else’s baby, and lividly hated my guts for believing in the future.

Onward a year later someone else well refer to he-who-wishes-that-he-was-named would mirror anything that I did. Since he had a fair musical inclination, I’d simply be tapping out a rhythm to a song I was writing, across the way he’d show the class that his motor skills where sharper then mine. He then went on to rephrasing anything that I’d said to be more interesting. Five years down the road this individual signed with a major record label and recorded an album that was strikingly based on the two singles that I had online. Nonetheless, the album didn’t go plastic. Shocking. On to the other first and second semester drop out’s who’d gripe when they’d tried to type cast me “He’s the one they expect to succeed *grumble* *grumble* *grumble…” Yes, match my album sales. Aside from a few genuine instructors, and 1 business professional. I have no personal relationships from that institution. I thank them for the knowledge and the opportunity extended to myself and others but do advise screening toxic people who have no intentions of working in the business out. Long story short these individuals (Whom I didn’t realize were a decade older then I was), the one’s who didn’t flunk out married each other and consistently throw in everyone’s faces how happy they are in the houses their parents bought them and the children they birth in a web of dis-employment, ten-year-old luxury cars, famished international trips, and road trips were one sleeps on the road. Our lives are so amazing, I was just cast in a wal*mart commercial. You did? I was just cast in a check-in-to cash industrial. I just produced my own independent film with an entire budget of $500, and the entire thing was shot with my cell phone. Now I won’t work again for another 8 years. Oh, me and Jim-Bob are having another baby. Groundbreaking.

The fault is own, I’ll be deactivating my Facebook account indefinitely. After all, I didn’t block them.

Fast forward to week before last Month.

It’s the day birthday and my father who passed away last year’s other daughter from another marriage starts messaging me. I’ve got another show next week (As I’m on tour), would you like to come out? She supposedly has a better inclination for singing then I do, and I asked for help with the national anthem. She stops responding. I receive no birthday wishes from her and see that she’s booked a trip to the Maldives. My life is so wonderful and amazing I can go somewhere you can’t.

Maybe it’s childish of me to ask, but why would someone want someone else to be jealous of them?

Frankly, I think it would be dangerous.

Well, these odd experiences have been real, but not fun. So, I’ve left that echo chamber where they can continue to mount their own stage, perform for themselves, and work up their own applause, and bow for the solo ovation of their delusion.