I’ll Always Be A Loser, But I Can’t Help It!
“A nomination is just as good as a win.”
I assume sitting in the crowd of the Oscars is something special and surreal like wondering if your body is actually in row E seat 16 or if it feels present and final. I assume first timers simply feel lucky to be there, but I can’t help but wonder when a category is announced and when a name - not theirs - is called if the feeling of luck morphs into jealousy or embarrassment. The gratitude suddenly evaporating and wafting into the stomach ache of a missed opportunity. Achievements and goals have been set up as the back bones of our existence, at least in North America. If a notches aren’t added to this invisible belt then will it have been worth it? Life, I mean. Lest we forget the levels of a notch. A notch isn’t just a notch. No, no, it’s about the volume or weight of the notch that makes a difference in the kind of congratulations you get from the people around you, but, most importantly, from yourself.
Sitting at my college award show - one made to award the best films and candidates nominated for their hard and excellent work - I felt like a loser. Even with three nominations for the film I produced, yes I felt like I had lost, or more, that I hadn’t done all I could do. I jumped to say I had imposter syndrome but with the lack of achievements wouldn’t really correlate with its definition. This came way before the winners were announced, way before the speeches of the people I’ve worked alongside for four years even escaped their mouths. As I sat in my chair six minutes before the show was to start, there was an impending doom that washed over me. Oh my God, I should've done more, should’ve applied for more jobs, should’ve been at the school more, should’ve spent more sleepless nights working on the film. This feeling only comes with not being able to change anything - thank you, Time - and having to watch as time moves forward without you.
“Imposter Syndrome - Imposter syndrome is loosely defined as doubting your abilities and feeling like a fraud. It disproportionately affects high-achieving people, who find it difficult to accept their accomplishments. Many question whether they’re deserving of accolades.”
Many of the people, friends, and family I spoke to before and after the ceremony jumped at the chance to let me know how much of an honour it is to be nominated, “a nomination is just as good as a win.” I wanted to believe it. I worked to believe it. It had to be true or else it meant I was good enough to come close but not to collect the prize. The foolishness of this mindset feels juvenile. People have been through worse, I’ve been through worse, yet the weight of sitting in a crowd and comparing myself to the talent around me is sickening. Peculiar is the only way I can describe it. My logical side is well aware of my accomplishments and how many nights I’ve worked, but it appears so miniscule in the face of others and when it comes time to recognize what these hard working moments have actually come to.
On a macro level, simply researching the ages of those in multi-million dollar films and some of the most talented actors I’ve ever seen has had a large effect on myself and my peers alike. What do you mean Halle Bailey AKA the Little Mermaid (2023) is only one year older than me? That can’t be. Nor can I let it be. Mind you, I’ve never had the urge to be an actor - I couldn’t stand the cameras or public pressure - but for some reason watching another succeed makes me want exactly what they have, even if it means doing something I wouldn’t truly enjoy.
Now, closing in on the median view, not necessarily as close as a college award show, but on your life and yourself. My life and myself. After all is done, and the accolades have been awarded and I drive home with my best friend, I found comfort in knowing that I will feel this way no matter what. That this feeling has come and gone in the past and will again in the future just as it has in the present. The lack of control, the power of my emotions being taken out of my hands is calming. Reassuring me that I’m simple muscle and skin and brain cells that can’t help the way it feels and who would hold a pile of flesh accountable, really? Not me, so I take that as a sign to exactly that. It’s not our fault that we’ll never feel complete, it’s just the motion of life and living. I just hope the next time it comes and goes it’s at the Oscars in row E seat 16 where I can see the back of Angelina Jolie’s head and have an excuse to wear a designer dress.
