Jelly Sea Sting

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• July 16, 2023

Growing up, I was one of those “old soul” kids. Introspective and a listener, I liked conversing with adults as much as I like running around with kids my own age. An old soul child is a gift to a parent, as I required little parenting, and even helped parent my siblings and reprimanded them in place of my parents when I thought they were being unreasonably childish. It made me a favorite among teachers. It made me empathetic, yet neutral. It fueled my smart ass temperament, as I often so clearly saw authority, and especially popularity, as false leaders using power as an indication of intelligence. Popularity and intelligence almost never go hand in hand. It made me sometimes prefer the company of books and films to people. Ultimately, like most old soul kids, led to being an adult with depressive tendencies.

The town I grew up in had wealth. My family didn’t. We were middle class, and therefore comparatively to many people we knew, did not have the supplemental income to afford things we desired. We still had it better than most. My family, though flawed and relatively insane, loves and enjoys each others company. Which is more than I can say about a lot of rich people in our hometown.

Still, it’s pretty natural to yearn for vacations to exotic places, a big boat, jetski, better clothes, fast cars, etc, etc. But given my “god” gifted emotional intelligence, I understood that jealousy was not just a wasted emotion, but I was also convinced it wasn’t real— it was learned. Because jealousy isn’t just wanting something you don’t have, it’ being mad at the person or people that do. Thinking you deserve it more. Even if you do deserve it more than some asshole, harboring a negative emotion in the “what if” realm is dangerously unhealthy FOR YOU. So I banished it. I was able to pull some levers in my brain to convince myself that jealousy was not a real emotion, and therefore I was impervious to toxicity that is jealousy. I mean, the word “lousy” is literally in the word “jealousy.” It’s a lousy feeling. It makes you lame an uninteresting and immature to be a jealous person.

This didn’t stop me from wanting what I don’t have. Be it monetary toys— a cool car, a boat, a vacation, or personal things like wanting the boy I was in love with to be in love with me back, or having networking connections to a career in creative writing. I would never stop wanting those things. But I didn’t hate people who did. I wasn’t necessarily happy for those who had more than me if I knew for certain they were assholes. Jealousy, however, was a poisonous drink I did not want to consume. So I simply, or not so simply, didn’t.

It’s true though that as you get older, your purity can get tarnished. And I’d be lying to you if I said I never experienced jealousy. Compared to many, if not most comedians, I’d say my jealousy level is pretty low. Sure, it frustrates me when I see TikTok stars blow up and become rich over not merely myself but brilliant comics who are basically comedic geniuses struggle for any recognition. However, the only way I begrudge someone’s success is if I find out they are not good people. People in show business who are sociopathic ladder climbers often do better than the self doubting artists. But truly and really, I root for people who are kind and help others. Even if I don’t care for their comedy and think others are more deserving merit wise.

In relationships, I’m not generally the jealous type. And it’s a huge turn off for me to date jealous men. Especially since I’m a forever tomboy and some guys have a real problem with this, subscribing to a black and white belief that men are only my friend because they are waiting to have sex with me. While I agree there are some men who are this way, and likely some men I’m friends with who have this “hidden” agenda, it is not always the case and I’m not so narcissistic to think everyone wants to sleep with me. In fact, the accusation says much more about the accuser than the accused. Furthermore, I’ve been turned down by guy friends I’ve both either suggested we fool around or date.

Being turned down doesn’t necessarily make me jealous. People have their reasons. Attraction can be fickle. And love has it’s own agenda. So being rejected doesn’t instantaneously make me jealous. Generally, if I like a person, I want them to be happy whether it’s with me or not. It’s a different story when you’re in love. The cold pang of jealousy stings when the person you’re in love with pines for someone else. Ultimately, if someone I’m in deep for doesn’t want to be with me, I can be happy for them knowing they are happy, but not without the wounds of Cupid’s arrows in my heart. Love is so often a mixture of happiness and sadness.

I don’t care for materialistic things, so walking down Fifth Avenue I do not desire the overpriced brand names Americans are especially brain washed to want because they think it will make them sexy or prove status. This is shallow. Too many people exchange true identity for Armani. The thing I do desire is delicious dinners. I don’t feel envy towards patrons of fancy restaurants in the sense that I want to be them. I still want to be me. I do not feel negatively towards them because they can afford a $200 dinner, but I do salivate at their courses and cocktails.

There was a moment I experienced intense jealousy, and it was at a St. Vincent concert. Anyone who knows me knows my top female crush and the woman I would turn fully gay for is Annie Clarke. She rips guitar, she’s some sort of musical genius, wonderfully weird and stunningly beautiful. I’m a fucking creep for Annie and I’m not even afraid to admit it. Anyway, my friend Katrina and I saw St. Vincent at Radio City some years ago. And it just so happened a female comedian (from LA, I didn’t know her) opened for St. Vincent. And the comedian did hack material that was cringey to me. I was practically fuming. I dismissed myself, unable to watch. I fled to the bar to get drinks and when I returned, Katrina (knowing my love and somewhat obsessiveness for Annie) who has great taste in comedy said, “yeah, it’s good you weren’t here for the rest of her set.”

The feeling, though, was fleeting. I am happy to report that sometimes when I’m scrolling on social media, if I am subjected to a sting of jealousy, it usually goes as quick as it comes. I’ve created a life for myself that others are envious of because I chase passions, find authentic friends, and go where I feel alive. I choose not to live a life where I wish I’m someone else. I always want to be me. And therefore, jealousy remains an artificial emotion, one that tastes bad to me, and I can quickly spit out.