Mr. MacFarlane is the perfect symbol of all my self loathing. I mean, there is no other person who has me split so perfectly. He’s handsome (ridiculously so) charming, talented and probably possessing other fine qualities known only to those who are close to him. On that level, I want him. On that level I like him. But then for almost those same exact reasons, I hate him just as passionately. He is so good looking. I think he was given more than his share in the looks department than he deserved and he is so charming and talented, he just skates around like the golden boy who can do no wrong. Even when he takes swipes of those who came before him and without whom he wouldn’t be enjoying the career he has profited from so greatly. People bend over backward to offer him everything they have. He cashes in millions at a time and there seems to be no end in sight for his success. I hate him for that.
What I hate most about that is I can’t blame luck on it either. I know he’s talented because I knew of him back when he was working under the Hanna Barbera banner. I know he’s worked hard and has earned his success. His rise has seemed to highlight my insecurities about myself. I’m not sure how old he is, but I’m willing to bet he’s younger than me and look where he is. I know it’s not healthy to compare yourself to others, but sometimes it’s hard to resist. You can’t help but think about what you’ve done with your life in the same amount of time as what someone else has accomplished with theirs. I can’t help but feel I missed something along the way. Some sign post on the road I didn’t see but now as I look back, I can see where to road forked, but I cannot see where that missed path would have taken me.
So, Mr. MacFarlane. If you read this. Come and get it.