The Case for Casual Success

Ever since I was a kid, I was pushed to be the best. It wasn't a personal thing — it's just how our society operates. All of our Western myths rely on "heroes" and "chosen ones," the best of the best, thoroughly original characters to boot. So I suppose I was biased toward a similar aim. But what if it's the wrong direction altogether?

The "be the best there ever was" narrative does produce elite athletes, business leaders, and competitive-minded artists — in short, the people we all admire and aspire to become. But what if you aren't going to be the best? What if you can't hang with the top talent?

I'm a good example. I don't feel that I lack intelligence or talent, but there's one thing I cannot do: I cannot commit to being just one thing. So what am I supposed to do in a world that rewards specialists? How am I supposed to be economically useful?

To be honest, being useful isn't my top priority. I want to have fun. I want my existence to entertain, inspire, and help people — just not in a direct, business-like way. I'm not the person to "commit," to become a caricature of a human being, just to survive — or god forbid, thrive and get rich.

And yet, surprisingly, I've survived well so far despite my inability to commit. That said, my income leaves a lot to be desired, and the chase for "success" has brought me many years of hardship and financial loss. Which makes me think there must be a linchpin somewhere — the thing that unlocks a more profitable, less corrosive way of living for me.

Why isn't "casual success" a concept? We ought to make it one. Then again, if and when I do "make it," you'll call me a hypocrite — because whatever I achieve will still take an inordinate amount of work. The difference is that it would be work I can stomach.