Blip: (n) a flashing point of light on a radar screen
“Listen, man, you’re not even a blip on the radar screen.”
I’ve heard these words several times in my life, from people who wanted to make money off of me by promoting my works, or folks who wanted to limit the value of my mission by insisting it was ineffective.
People don’t want to be nasty–jealousy just makes them that way. Matter of fact, you can get rid of an awful lot of “nasty” in your life if you just decide not to be jealous.
No, I’m not a blip on the radar screen.
- I’ve never received a phone call from CNN asking for an interview.
- The Tonight Show has eluded me.
- I have not appeared on any bestseller lists.
- I am not being vetted for any national position.
- The awards I’ve received have been scrawled on paper instead of presented as gold statues.
But since I’m not a blip on the screen, I can do the hell whatever I want. No one is concerned, because they think my meager attempts are meaningless.
Meanwhile, one after one, day after day, minute by minute, I encounter fellow-human beings and try, for the brief seconds I am with them, to make them glad they are alive and encourage them to be more hopeful about their prospects.
I write blogs which are read by unseen strangers who happen to stumble upon me accidentally. Yet, stumbling upon me, I try to make sure they are delighted by tripping my way.
Fame in America is a revolving door.
The powers that be will never actually let you inside the building. It’s reserved for old money, old clients, old stars, old politicians and old ideas. So as soon as you think you’re entering, they will find dirt and grime to smear all over your character and revolve you right out the exit.
What you want to do is be a flash in the pan–a moment when people see light and wonder if there is the possibility of more up ahead.
Jonathan’s Latest Book Release!
PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant