You Don’t Look Like Someone Who’s Famous and Other Reasons I Will Never Feel Like a Somebody

prettygraphicI looked at my place on the AllTop Writing list today. It was a nice spot, close enough to the top to keep my toes from getting chilly and yet not so close that I feel intimidated by myself or stressed out about having to perform.

Performance anxiety, the stress you get when you realize someone is actually watching and expects you to do something worth watching.

I know myself. I know I will never believe in myself enough to give myself credit for what I accomplish. It will never be enough. The crazy critic inside my head keeps my feet firmly planted on the ground. I know any success I have is due to some fluke, something that happened by chance and isn’t likely to be repeated. Like reporting an error on a website, they ask you to tell them how it happened by repeating the steps you took to get there. Like we all keep notes. Well, some of you probably do, I don’t.

Any success I have will be immediately discounted as luck or random chance.

I don’t look like someone who could be famous. I don’t act like someone who could be famous. In a room of famous people I would be asked to serve the cocktails and someone would fire me when I tried to hold too many cocktails on my tray and spilled them all over – smashed glasses and all.

Someone famous is thin, or at least trim and fit looking. I’m not.

Someone famous spends time on their clothes and cosmetics. I’m not even wearing lipstick. I’ve even let myself run out of Blistex so my lips are not silky and soft today.

Someone famous would be making better use of their day. I’ve been sitting here most of the day, researching, writing and publishing.

Someone famous would have been having social chitchats with other famous people. I took a break and played cards with my Mother.

Someone famous has themselves set up in the perfect setting with no clutter and a lot of glamour. I’m surrounded by paper clutter, Ubuntu DVDs I burned and games I will procrastinate with later. There are pens and markers on my desk, getting in the way of my computer mouse. My coffee cup is empty – usually it’s here too. Hairbrush, hair clips, a flower shaped cookie cutter, vitamins, a jingle bell from Christmas, a red ribbon from the new underwear I bought a month ago, hand sanitizer, a Swiss Chalet survey, paperwork to fill out for my volunteering job and assorted other clutter that someone famous would have staff to handle for them.

Someone famous isn’t making their own lunch, or skipping it cause in another hour it will be time to start making dinner anyway.

Someone famous doesn’t have a shelf (more than one shelf) with self-help, creative writing inspiration, freelance writing and web development type of books which they have not actually done more than skim yet.

Someone famous doesn’t get swollen feet from sitting here too long.

Someone famous would only spend an hour (at most!) on writing and then they would be off for their TV interview, lunch with Keanu Reeves and a public appearance for the reporters and adoring crowds.

Someone famous would never feel like I do.

Yet, the odd thing is… some of them do!

The really, really, really odd thing is; there are people who will look at this site and the other sites I write for and think I’m a somebody. (Not after they read this of course. Illusions of my grandeur are shot now. But, you get the idea).

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