Almost Good Enough

There is perhaps no word in the English language more soul crushing than 'almost.'

al·most
ˈôlˌmōst/
adverbnot quite; very nearly.

Failure is of course part of life, but coming so close to a goal and falling just short can lead to the type of despair that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. Almost getting the girl, almost getting the dream job, almost being happy.

I was almost good enough once. I wanted to be a professional writer and I was ok, maybe even good. But there is a major difference between being good and good enough. 

I often attributed my professional failings to a personality problem. Most folks in Hollywood didn't stumble out of the frat house on their way here and found my attitude to be a bit off-putting. I made the mistake of assuming that everyone at their core was like me, someone who wanted to be the life of the party and have a good time.

I figured that regaling my coworkers about my weekend heroics was the quickest way to ingratiate my way into their hearts but really I was just proving to them something that I didn't yet know. I always wanted the life of a professional writer more than I wanted to be one.

I wanted a fast car, I wanted a sick apartment. I wanted to go on dates without worrying about the cost of menu items...should we get one more? Of course I wanted to have one more drink every time. Who doesn’t want one more drink? But instead of living in the moment, I would do the simple math and realize that every time I agreed to ‘one more’ I was setting myself back $40. On a production assistant salary those $40 increments add up fast. The first one means rent is going to be late, the next means I won’t be able to put gas in my car tomorrow, the third means the internet is going to be shut off. I hated this. I wanted to live a life free from the fear of overdrafting my checking account, free from the thought that if my car broke down I wouldn’t be able to fix it.

And that wasn't enough. I wanted to go to Yacht Week with the boys, that ski trip in Park City, take a friend out for their birthday...and this, this is what I was more worried about than 'making it.'

While I was going on those hall of fame nights where we took 12 ubers to 7 different neighborhoods and got home as the sun was rising, the people I thought I was so much better than, they were improving, I was just turning into a lush. 

Ya I was pretty good, probably better than most of my contemporaries to be honest. But in an industry where most writers under 35 are 'replacement level' anyway, who do you want in the room, the person who is dependable or the guy nursing a brutal hangover from a pier concert?

So there it is. I fucked up. I was almost good enough and I pissed it all away.

Everyone has a similar story of course. Maybe you were in a band that couldn't quite get over the hump, maybe you broke up with your soul mate over some petty argument. Maybe there was something you wanted so bad you could taste it and then one day, POOF, it was gone. You blew it you self-destructive twat.

But...

I have good news.

The good news is that it's not too late. Today I am here to absolve you of your sins. Whether you pissed away a promising TV career by behaving like a degenerate or literally anything else, today we wipe that slate clean.

Say it out loud, write it down, it's therapeutic to come clean on your fuck ups. White girls in LA pay a lot of money to say this kinda stuff to a therapist, this site is free. Yell it at your screen right now, it won't yell back. Did you blow your marriage, did you ruin a friendship, did you give up on one of your passions because you just couldn't get out of your own way?

Well that's fine, because right now I am hitting the reset button, because the truth is...there's no such thing as 'almost good enough.' You are fucking good enough. I am good enough. My career at NBC Uni may be over for the minute but that doesn't mean that my angsty single cam dramedies are any less fire. I mean, my God, I wrote a pilot a few weeks ago about summer in Carmel, Indiana and it was fucking BOMMMMMMMB. It took me eight hours. I mean even if it's shit, that's gotta be some sort of speed record. 

Pick up your guitar, write a new song. Hit up your ex girlfriend and list all of the things you did wrong. Dust off the clubs and book a tee time, start training for those triathlons again. Join a gym, reconcile with your parents, go get a new head shot. Don't give up.

I know it sucks to fail. It blows. And by all means you are well within your rights to climb into a bottle for two weeks and sulk, but after that, get over it homie.

And if you can't find someone to give you the opportunity to pursue your dream, just do it yourself. Self-publish a novel, record an EP and throw it up on Soundcloud. Can't find funding for your movie, shoot it on a god damn iPhone. We live in a time where there are just simply no more excuses not to pursue the things that make you happy. Start a podcast that has five listeners, believe me, it will become the most fulfilling part of your life; just do something. 

And of course because life is a cruel mistress and everything is cyclical you will undoubtedly screw up and fail again. But guess what, you can just re-read this and give it another go because it won't be too late then either. Because the only thing worse than trying and failing, is never trying at all.

Shooters shoot...remember that.