Blue Check Mark
A catalyst for inner chaos
My jaw hit the floor. What in the actual fuck?! How did this happen? When did this happen? That person, really? The blue check mark? Followers in the hundreds of thousands?!
What is going on?
There’s only one person I can reach out to over such matters, my social media savvy partner-in-crime (PIC). I knew she could give me a run down of what happened.
My thumbs flew across my phone. Um. I’m sorry. Before I could even type the next sentence PIC writes, Oh no what’s happening.
I proceed to unleash a torrent of rage and confusion. There were all caps and emojis everywhere. How could this person I knew 10 years ago be a semi-celebrity seemingly overnight? How could their Instagram have hundreds of thousands of followers? When did this happen? How did this happen? The worst part, the part that really gutted me, was that damn little blue check mark. Staring back at my big dumb face was that tiny diabolical symbol of one’s status and standing in the world.
For those who aren’t on Instagram, let me first say: Bravo! Stay strong! Secondly, the tiny blue check mark next to someone’s name means they’ve been verified by Instagram. It’s a necessary evil to prevent people from creating fake accounts for celebrities, politicians, or even companies. So if Jennifer Aniston DM’s you and there isn’t a blue check, it ain’t Jen and don’t give her any money.
An unfortunate side effect of the blue check is that it’s become a status symbol. Only the truly #blessed among us are verified. The blue check means you’re a real person, a bona fide celebrity, an icon. You’re a brand and you’re better than all the other riff-raff in the world. You are worthy of love and affection while us mere plebeians must scrounge through the festering scrap heaps of earth for the tiniest morsel of validation. You are the gentry and we are the serfs.
I digress —
PIC laughed at my dramatics and informed me that this person was on a popular TV show. Well there you go. I guess that’s how it happens.
I was disgusted, outraged, horrified. This person, in my humble opinion, is trash. Actually they are both trash and trashy. Years and years ago, this person and their spouse ran in similar acting circles as me. We didn’t work together much, except for a few small projects. Whatever time we did spend together, wasn’t very enjoyable. This person (and spouse) was attention-grabbing, petty, shallow, and kinda rude. This person was actually rude to PIC at one point and no one, I mean no one, is allowed to be rude to PIC. Any rudeness directed at PIC means you are dead to me.
So how, how I ask you, is a person like that permitted so much success? It was mind boggling. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for a few days. Over and over again I asked myself why and how. This business is ridiculous. Most people know that, including me. There’s no rhyme and very little reason. Yet I couldn’t shake this person and their blue check mark!
In my head I built up a case for why they didn’t deserve what they have, check mark included. They’re not that talented. They’re certainly not that nice. They’re not special. In fact they kinda suck. Actually they really really suck and no one else can see it. They’re annoying and have an annoying spouse. They’re the worst of all humanity in fact. Yep, it was confirmed they were a denizen of the underworld.
I slowly descended into cuckoolandia.
Then I started writing. I wasn’t sure where this post was going to go. As I began putting words down I noticed that I worked hard to obscure this person’s identity. Why? Because I don’t want them to find out? Because I don’t want others to find out? Because I’m ashamed?
That’s when it hit me - it is not about them. It never was. This person could not give two shits about me even if you paid them. My rage at the system, at the unjust nature of mediocrity rising to the top, is really just a cover for my own insecure, basic, low-frequency, lizard brain shit. It is, dare I say, jealousy. I had wrapped myself in a shame-tinted jealousy blanket.
The image I have of myself is that of a fairly evolved, mature, centered person. I’ve done some work on myself over the years and proudly stand in that growth. As it turns out, however, I have not evolved passed jealousy. Far from it. And I HATE that I haven’t evolved passed jealousy. This person and their stupid blue check mark sent me into a bitter spiral that led to irrationally painting them as some sort of monster. I said they were attention-grabbing, petty, shallow, and kinda rude. But looking back on all the things I thought about them, it appears that I was attention-grabbing, petty, shallow, and kinda rude. It was mean spirited. The monster, I loathe to say, is in me. Perhaps it is me. At least in this scenario.
The lesson here is one I fear I will continue to need to learn for the rest of my life. I’m still on the journey. Like really really still on the journey. Even in the midst of my own professional and creative surge, I managed to peek over at someone else’s lane and see their success as my failure. My thinking got messed up. I reverted back to some deep-rooted ugliness that I thought I had somehow “cured.”
Perhaps one day I will have a blue check mark and hundreds of thousands of followers (though in many ways I hope this doesn’t happen) and someone will write a newsletter about me and how much of a mediocre shit I was/am. If I come across this newsletter, hopefully I’ll be able to see it for what it really is - a projection of the author’s shaky sense of worth.
Or perhaps you won’t be able to pay me to give two shits.
Either is fine.


What planet were you visiting? I’m officially old….