Halrloprillalar (prillalar) wrote,

That Wonderful Woman! Oh, How I Loathe Her. - Ann Hornaday in the Washington Post.

(I didn't have problems reading without logging in, but if necessary, use BugMeNot)

We all have them, those close friends, colleagues, casual acquaintances or complete strangers whose lives and careers exist -- it seems to us -- solely as a rebuke to our own. We respect them, admire them from afar, maybe even love them -- but with a twinge of . . . what exactly? Jealousy? Envy? White-knuckled rage? They're the people who are constantly reminding us that we'll never quite measure up. They're the valedictorians to our salutatorians, the bestsellers to our mid-listers, the mid-listers to our never-published, the homecoming queens to our also-rans. They seem to have sprung fully formed from our ugliest competitive streaks, our egos at their most fragile, our deepest self-loathing. They are our own squandered potential, fully realized.

I'm not wild about her portmanteau word -- idolspize -- but the article really resonated for me, especially in regard to fandom, which seems to bring out these feelings in me like nothing else in my life. At least now I know it's not just me.
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