Monday, March 8, 2010


I'm not sure what is wrong with people sometimes.  I got a whisper tonight on WoW from a friend who said, "Can you please not level your hunter to 75 yet, or at least wait to get to 80 until after I do?"  I asked, "Why?" He says, "Because my toon was 73 when yours hit 40 and you're about to pass me."  Ok, I don't get it.  What the hell?  Why should I have to wait for someone who actually has a life to level their toon?  We're all pretty much agreed I don't have a life, so why should it bother anyone what level my new hunter is at?  Playing WoW is just a nice way for me NOT to be lonely!  What the hell?

So I asked him, "Why does it bother everyone when I succeed?"  My entire life, whenever I have succeeded at anything, it's driven people up the fricking wall.  He replied, "Because we're all jealous that we can't do what you do."  I replied, "Please, I'm just like everyone else, it's not my fault I'm performance oriented."  Then he says, "Because you're already epic, so when you get something new, everyone just thinks 'holy shit, I wonder what she is going to do next.'"

At that point, I just went off.  I am so tired of the fact that every time I succeed and I'm really good at something, someone is just waiting in the wings to push me down.  People being jealous of me went out of style when I was in junior high...I'm over it, but still, I'm constantly surrounded by people who just can't stand to see good things happen to me.  So I finally said, "Well dude, it's not my fault I've been blessed by the gods.  This jealousy crap gets old fast, so if you don't like what I'm doing, top me or just don't look, but I'm not going to sit idle just because you can't stand to watch me go by." 

ARGH!  You know, I'm trying to get some positive momentum going.  Something that will make me feel like I'm getting some kind of traction in my out of control life. 

You know, I lived for seven years with a man who made it his mission to make me feel like I was crazy or stupid.  He always went out of his way to make sure I felt inadequate and oh boy did he do well at that.   You know I lived my entire childhood under the oppressive boot of people telling me I was never good enough.  "You're not fast enough, get out of the way" when I was a kid trying to help in the kitchen, the constant "why isn't this B an A" on my report cards, the "you might be beautiful on the outside but you're ugly on the inside" crap my mother used to heap on me. 


Why is it that I have to be oppressed to make people happy?  You know I'm sorry if there are some people who feel inadequate next to me.  It's not my fault I've been blessed by the gods!  I've been forged in the fires of a hell unlike anyone will ever endure, so excuse me if I politely tell the people who find it necessary to put me down to stick it up their ass.

And people wonder why I have such a nasty attitude sometimes.  Half the time I just sit there astonished that people can't grow a pair and get on their game.  Because I'm so performance oriented, I sit disappointed because people can't do what I can do or can't keep up.  I know that already for chrissakes!  Do you think I enjoy being so aware how next level I am and can't do anything to help people get to where I am?  It's frustrating!  My entire life I've looked for an equal and a balance to me and for 38 years I've sat alone and frustrated.  It's not easy!  I'm always 10 steps ahead!  Always on the next level or the next page.

I'm sorry I'm not ordinary.  I'm sorry that it hurts people that they can't keep up, but I'm not going to sit around on my ass while they up their game.

You know, is closing it's doors tomorrow.  And that's just another example of people pushing me down.  I was in that online world for 5 years.  When I asked people for help on learning how to skin a 3D model, I got told to piss up a rope, so I taught myself.  Then I became THE premiere instructor in that world teaching everyone else how to do it and all those people who wouldn't teach me or help me, called my work novel.  Then when I had some success and had a great reputation...what did they do...found every way imaginable to push me down.  It wasn't my fault that I was always 2 years ahead of the curve.  While they were designing Wal-mart quality, what was I doing?  Pushing the envelope and bringing out Haute Couture for a virtual world.  And for all that, what did I get called?  Novel.  No, I didn't have a design that sold a one-off for $200 real dollars.  No...that couldn't have been me.  (I'm being sarcastic because that actually happened.)  I served on the Members Advisory Board and stamped on toes because I told the truth about what sucked and what worked in that world.  What did I get for all my teaching hours and all my hard work?  A petty, jealous status-quo who couldn't do what I could, so they treated me like dirt.  Ideas stolen right out from under me.  I finally burnt out of that world and I'm so glad, it's money I didn't throw away.  OMG, someone coming up with the idea of a surf shop in a world that had nothing but beaches?!!?  Heaven forbid!  And then naming a buggy a Therecedes...what will I come up with next!?  Pushing behind the scenes so designers could have mannequins to display their designs in a tangible fashion?  Gods help us all!  Sheri's coming up with another new idea!  Oh, you don't want her stuff, she's from Uru!   Ugh.  Goodbye There, glad I got out a long time ago.

But still, you know, I'm not going to dwell because some people just can't keep up.  Their inadequacy issues are theirs, not mine.  I don't have to own them because I didn't do anything to deserve any sort of jealousy.  I'm living my life.  Why can't other people do the same and just leave well enough alone?

Just for my buddy's dumb-ass crack, I'm going to hit 75 if not 76 and make sure that I hit 80 so far ahead of him that he'll sit writhing in agony.  Don't ever tell me I can't do something.  I will make it my mission to prove you wrong.  It's that persevering spirit of mine.  I will not be put down, nor be told no.  I've had enough of that, thank you very much.

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