A Squid's Guide to Embracing the Suck
A Squid's Guide to Embracing the Suck
I still remember the time I watched Squidward Tentacles audition for the Bubble Bowl Philharmonic. He stood on stage in Bikini Bottom’s most prestigious concert hall, clarinet poised, the crowd hushed. He played a note—sharp, shrill, and instantly drowned out by the mocking laughter of the audience. He didn’t make the cut. Again.
It wasn’t the first time Squidward had been rejected. He’d tried out for the Jellyfish Jam music festival. He'd once attempted to open an art gallery, only to discover SpongeBob and Patrick had "curated" the exhibit by mistake. Each time, he fell flat on his face. And yet, somehow, he kept showing up.
That’s what makes Squidward fascinating to me—not his failures, but how he lives with them.
Failure Doesn’t Cancel You
Squidward could have packed it in after that Bubble Bowl disaster. He could have said, “Clarinet’s not for me,” or “The world doesn’t appreciate my genius.” But he didn’t. He went home, grumbled loudly about the public’s lack of taste, and showed up the next day to blow the same sad, squeaky notes into his clarinet.
I’ve watched people give up after one rejection. One bad review, one lost job, one failed relationship, and they’re done. But Squidward teaches us that failure doesn’t erase who we are. It just means this particular attempt didn’t work out. You can still try again. You can still care.
He never stops trying to create. He just…doesn’t always hit the mark.
Talent Isn’t Enough
Squidward has skill. He can play the clarinet. He can paint. He can sculpt. He has real, demonstrable talent. But he also lacks something SpongeBob has in spades: joy.
Squidward’s art is often brilliant but joyless. His music is technically sound but emotionally flat. And that’s the difference between being good and being beloved.
I’ve met people like that in real life—brilliant, underappreciated, always on the verge of a breakthrough that never comes. And sometimes, it’s not because the world is cruel. Sometimes, it’s because we forget that art, like life, is meant to be shared. To connect.
Squidward’s work is a mirror. He’s not trying to connect—he’s trying to prove something.
Grumpiness Is a Defense Mechanism
Let’s be honest: Squidward is a grump. He yells at SpongeBob. He rolls his eyes at Patrick. He complains about tourists, the postman, even the moon. But behind the scowls is a man (or squid?) who’s deeply sensitive to disappointment.
He doesn’t want to be hurt, so he puts up a wall. He’d rather be annoyed than vulnerable. I get it. I’ve been there. There’s a safety in cynicism. It feels smarter, sharper, more mature.
But it also keeps you small.
When I started writing this piece, I asked myself: “What would Squidward’s life look like if he let people in more?” Maybe the rejections would still come—but he wouldn’t feel so alone when they did.
You Can’t Control What Others Think
Squidward spends a lot of time trying to convince others he’s elite, cultured, refined. He wears berets. He hangs abstract art. He plays avant-garde music. But nobody cares. SpongeBob thinks his clarinet solos are weird. Patrick once mistook one of his sculptures for a cheese grater.
And no matter how hard Squidward tries, he can’t force people to see him the way he sees himself.
I’ve tried that too—curating my image, crafting my words, dressing a certain way, trying to fit into boxes that weren’t mine. And I’ve learned what Squidward hasn’t yet: you can’t control how people receive you. All you can do is show up as yourself, and hope someone sees you.
Even if it’s just one person.
So What’s the Point?
Squidward’s life isn’t a success story. He doesn’t rise to fame. He doesn’t win the respect of his peers. He doesn’t even get a raise at the Krusty Krab. But he keeps going. He keeps creating. He keeps caring, even when it hurts.
There’s a quiet courage in that.
I used to think failure meant you were going the wrong way. Now I think failure is just part of the journey. The real question is: do you keep walking?
Squidward does. He’s stubborn that way.
And if you want to talk to someone who’s lived through a thousand rejections and still shows up the next day, maybe it’s time to have a conversation with Squidward Tentacles.
You might just find he understands you more than you expect.
Talk to Squidward Tentacles on HoloDream and ask him how he keeps going after so many flops. You might be surprised by his answer.
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