About Envying Yourself

Post 1084:

            There’s another me out there. We were just about the same at one point and then something happened. Our paths diverged. I’m a single musician who writes stories and tries to find some meaning in absurdity. The other me? I don’t know. For drama’s sake, let’s assume he’s an accountant with one of those steady monolithic firms with noble acronyms. There’s three kids, a wife, a dog, and the only thing that’s absurd to him—people like me. Put us in a room together and we look the same, sound the same. Same DNA. All that, and we’ll be trying to kick each other’s butts within an hour of greetings and salutations.

            Sorry to open with that, but I just managed to make my way through Counterpart. If you like a breakneck pace and rip-roaring good times, maybe pick something else. However, if you’re on drugs because you got your wisdom teeth pulled out, not bad at all.

            There’s a lot going on in the show and I won’t spoil it except to say that it’s a great premise with great direction, lots of intense drama, etc. Really, my only complaint is that it might’ve been better. A little less dreary, perhaps. But the aesthetics are intentional. Nothing here is accidental so it comes down to taste. So give it a try. One thing I’ll say. The setting kind of made me chuckle. There’s two parallel worlds in the show. And they happen to bifurcate in Berlin. You know, because walls, maaaaaan. A little on the nose.

            But I love the idea of two worlds running alongside each other. At first I thought it would just be cool, full stop. Ehhhh. The theme ends up being that our other selves get jealous of each… other. Or they just don’t understand them—their other selves.

            This brings up sort of a profound point that amused and saddened me throughout my viewing of the show. We’re so envious, we envy the people we could’ve been. Maybe even more than the guy down the street with the cooler car and the hair that never turns gray. Yes, that guy sucks and I don’t know what she sees in him, but at least he’s not the me I could’ve been.

            If we think of the life we could’ve led, it’s regret more than envy. Or is it? I’m starting to get confused by all of these theories and wild scenarios. I wonder if other me has better cognitive abilities. That bastard. It’s best I just stay in my world, writing stories about worlds that never existed at all.

            That’s it. And check out the show. You don’t want to have regrets.

            Cheers and see you after.