Tuesday, December 18, 2012

My Haters, My Motivators

The other day I was out running errands when I saw a girl I knew first year of college. She still looked the same, dressing like she got her clothes out of a dumpster or perhaps off of some old drunken bag woman off the street. I hung out with her twice because during the first few weeks of college you sort of scope out who your friends will and won't be. We were making our way around the city on some sort of retarded outing that was supposed to bond us all as a mandatory suggestion of student life. I remember hitting it off with several of the people in the group-all except her.

She was a perpetual wet blanket. Everything that could be said that was cheerful she just put down. This woman was a black blob on a pastel painting. She quickly made it apparent that she didnt like me. At the time because I was so young it hurt that she didnt like me. What was I doing wrong? I was hitting it off with everyone else in the crew. It was a pain of knowing someone didnt like me and I didnt do or say anything bad to them?

What made her so ravenously hate me? Was it the puppets? Was it the big, fake eyelashes and terrible mascara I wore during that point in my life? Was it the fact that I was so desperate to make friends, almost too desperate? I remember my dad said maybe I came on too strong and my mom said I was better looking. Then of course some of my friends said it was my gnawing insecurity. She probably didnt like me or hate me, and it was just me. Well I was willing to think that until she actually told people she hated me. Did it hurt my feelings? Yes, because my first year of school was hellacious. There were three suicides, all in the library. Then a girl a floor up from me was raped by two men who lived on my floor but dropped the charges. A kid down the hall from me was a drug dealer and his partner-a huge fan of mine-was arrested by the feds. And this bitch was mean to me.

Well fast forward years later when they are gossiping about me as usual on an online message board. Someone wrote that they met me at the beginning of college, didnt like me, but took me in stride like the suicides. They also ripped on my terrible eye makeup. Immediately I knew who this was because she had said the same things about me. I didnt care. Our paths didnt cross anymore. And I always knew I would have the better career.

Well I gave the wet blanket no more thought until I went to run the simple errand and she turned up. She looked familiar and I could not place her. Who was she? I had only met her once or twice so she probably wasn't that important. But there was this pain like a knife to my gut, like a run. Like this person was not a friend despite the fact that she said hello. I didnt know why I got that feeling. Maybe I was crazy.

On my walk home I put two and two together.

I met this bitch at the beginning of college, she said she didn't like me, and she bad mouthed me on a message board. She still had the same sour expression on her face and the same terrible clothes. Just to do it, I looked her up and saw that life hadn't been kind to her. She keeps a blog where she bemoans that the industry does not recognize her talent. She whines about the fact that despite all of her qualifications and talent she cannot find an agent or an acting job. She claims she finds no fulfillment in her life. Bottom line, if you read her blog there is nothing that makes you say, "I am rooting for you. You deserve all the best." It's more like you are fat, ugly, and annoying, get a reality check.

Sure, life hasn't always been easy for me, and following the dream has it's challenges. But I am getting to go places she is never going to go because I work harder, have the better attitude, and am just more of a fighter. It's not because I am more talented, oh no. Here's the thing. She can say all she wants about my terrible eye makeup and puppets. But the only place anyone will listen to her is on the message board with the rest of the losers who whine about how life is not fair. It is the only way she can have a captive audience because no casting director would ever give her nasty puss an acting job. The closest she will ever get to my world is Gawker, VH1.com, and her television at home.

It should make me feel good, right?

No, it doesn't. Because jealousy is an ugly thing. Having been on the giving end it makes you feel good for a minute but then you feel drained because it gets you no where. Having been on the receiving end it has made me a changed person, and now I have learned to be happy for people because I know what it's like when people aren't happy for you. This woman in particular is someone who is very unhappy and can only focus on the lives of others, and therefore she can only complain about what she does not have. She can't be a doer because that would involve focusing on herself and that is too much. Her mind must be a terrible place to live and it must be a hellacious existence on the regular and I do feel very sorry for her.

I look at my life right now and I know I am where I am supposed to be. I am blessed to have a career that is taking off because I am doing the work on a continual basis. But it is because I refuse to give into the devil of envy and jealousy and will never let grass grow under my feet.

And when I see someone like her who I know was seething after that encounter, it makes me work harder. Say all you want about my eye makeup sweetheart, but the last time I checked I got more TV time in a week than you will in your entire career. But no matter, she can't dream, she can only foam at the mouth.

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Come to my book signing
December 27 @ 7pm
Bethel Park Library
5100 w. libray ave
bethel park pa 15102

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