Sure, it’s 3am PST, so it’s technically no longer my Birthday, but go along with me here. As I type this, I just finished watching the 3am tape delay of Jordyn Wieber completely dominating her floor routine for the US Gymnastic team on their way to an Olympic Gold Medal, and wow, they sure earned it. The “Fab 5” went Gold, and such an incredible team they are. (And Jordyn, you’re adorable, and intimidatingly athletic.)
It just so happens that my birthday fell on the same day that they went Gold, as well as the same day the Major League Baseball trading deadline hit. On a day where professional baseball players will be changing their mailing addresses and young athletes will be achieving their lifelong dream of Olympic Gold. It felt only right that I should get completely drunk for my 30 (something, earlier than mid-thirties, but don’t judge me because I look so much younger) th Birthday.
The longer I dedicate my life to the “entertainment” industry, I realize that your actual age means absolutely nothing. Sure, everybody wants to find that spark plug 23 year-old who is about to set the world on fire, but to be realistic, the rest of us are all swimming in a massive tank full of extremely talented people who just haven’t figured out how to show that “It Factor”.
None of us know when we are going to achieve that crowning moment, so we keep pushing, hustling, & crawling our way to the proverbial brass ring, all while fielding asinine questions from people not in the industry like, “Hey, why don’t ya get on that Last Comic Standing show?” or “You should make a call and get on Chelsea Lately.” Or my personal favorite, “What do ya think about taking over for that Joel McHale fella once he leaves The Soup?” Oh, if it was only that simple. What really hits me on this monumental occasion (not really, but I’m drunk and it’s my birthday, so it’s monumental in my book), is how my outlook on relationships are so different compared to when I grew up.
As a young man in eastern Pennsylvania, I just assumed that meeting “The One” was as simple as graduating high school, getting drunk during your 1st few years of college, and stumbling into your soul mate on the path to graduating with a bachelors degree. That is the route many of my good friends from back home have taken, and wow, I sure am envious of that simplicity every time I meet a girl who is an Actor/Comedian/Host/Writer/Entrepreneur/Dog Walker/Life Coach.
Just as I wonder what the hell exactly is wrong with me, I watch the US Men’s Relay team win the Gold Medal in Swimming (on tape delay of course, because it’s now 4am PST, and even my parents are awake and up for work on the east coast), it hits like a bolt of lightening that none of us are stuck to a script. Not one of these Olympic athletes would be wearing the Gold if they didn’t sacrifice a “normal” lifestyle, and even more so, the Olympic Athletes who ending up going home with zero medals, wouldn’t even be able to enjoy the experience of the 2012 Olympic Games in London if it wasn’t for their complete dedication to what they love.
This all could be gibberish, because, when it comes down to it, I’m a Comedian/Host/Actor/Writer/SolidHumanBeing writing this at 4am following a completely enjoyable celebration only because I survived long enough to reach another birthday. Do I feel kinda like a loser because I just saw Michael Phelps win his Olympic record 19th Medal? Sure.
But hey, if we all have absolutely nothing out there to make us feel motivated & inspired, then what will we have to feel grateful for once we achieve? (See Bob Costas’s miserable face during these Olympic Games). That’s about it for me on this evening. I’m considering taking a walk to McDonald’s just to order an abyss size Hi-C Orange drink because my organs who don’t handle alcohol as well as they did 10 years ago have earned it. Oh, and just for good measure, fuck Chick-fil-A.