It’s not easy being green.

My friends are all so goddamn talented I want to jam my thumbs into their eye sockets. Or, i used to. It’s hard to not feel that way when you’re surrounded by such amazingly smart and funny ASSHOLES who won’t stop doing fucking hilarious work. I know, this is an ugly way to feel, but I am not ashamed to say it because 1) everyone has felt that way, and 2) I have no shame — I don’t break eye contact when I fart. Live proud, ya’ll.

But, after a few years of inwardly reacting to other people’s good news with howls of “WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH GOD!?!??!” or “Oh no! They’re going to get famous without me and never invite me to parties! Or when they do invite me it’ll be weird and awkward and I’ll eat too much and cry and steal something from their bathroom.” I realized I was building a hate-diamond in my gut, one too large for even me to poop out.

As I thought about where my anxiety over my friends’ successes came from, I realized that it was almost always a panic about my own productivity. The people I was most jealous of motivated me more than anyone. Once I recognized that, I started thinking of us as members of team of asskickers — everyone pushing each other to better and better things. It made it so much more exciting every time someone did something great! It’s working! We’re winning! I started cheering for them and telling them how much I liked their work, leaving off the unnecessary “so much I want to shoot us both in the throat”.

Once that level of competition was removed, I was free to appreciate their work, celebrate their different strengths, and to learn from them. My conversations with lady comics stopped being about asshole guys, and started being about finding a good DP or which festivals to apply to. Now I am so grateful for all of them — I never would have done half of the things I’m proud of if I hadn’t had other people constantly raising the bar.

Sure, sometimes I still feel that sting of jealousy when someone else gets a job I wanted, or a review I wish I had gotten. But it quickly fades into an honest “yay for you!” as I see it as proof that a good person who works hard gets rewarded, and as I realize that no matter what, they don’t have my tits. Or my brain. And I like mine the best.