I'm So Proud I Didn't Name Any Names

I'm not a jealous person. I don't get bothered when Hot Guy's ex-girlfriends find him on MySpace. I don't get mad when I see mothers who have two mellow children. I don't get upset when I hear about the great vacations my financially solvent friends go on. I even only get a momentary pang of bitterness when I see women who have five kids and wear a size four.

So when I say that if one more bitch I went to high school with writes a book, then more than my eyes will be green - that's out of character. While I am catty and gossip-y, I generally don't begrudge other people their happiness or success. I enjoy the success of other writers and bloggers, for the most part. Unless I went to high school with you. A few years ago, a woman I went to elementary, junior high and high school with published her second book. I had kept track of her career, even though we were never friends (not only was she a year older than I am, she was shy and quiet and studious and I, um, was not). I cheered her on as she wrote for Self and Glamour. I bought her book of essays.

Then she came out with her novel and I began to hate her. In her novel, a young woman from a town just like ours moves to the mid-west. Much learning and growing ensues, but her treatment of mid-westerners remains insulting and stereotypical. Not only had she written MY story, she had written it badly. I slammed the book to everyone I met and wrote an impassioned blog against it on Blogit.

This woman lives in LA now. The Week used one of her LA Times Op-eds. And I still hate her. But apparently my dislike of her has turned me into a jealous cow, because now I get annoyed any time I hear about anyone I went to school with publishing a book. Or an article. Or a dissertation. Or having a more popular blog. Or. . .well, I'm sure you get the idea. Last night I saw a mystery published by a woman with the name of another girl I went to school with. Before realizing that it is a fairly common name and not necessarily that girl who always did and said everything perfectly , I got ticked off enough to begin searching for bad reviews.

After reading a few I realized it wasn't her and I felt like a total a**hole for SO many reasons. So now I have promised myself to think only positive thoughts about people I went to high school with - no matter how they've turned out. Except LA Times girl, whose novel was a TOTAL insult to every mid-westerner I've ever known. But I pledge a non-jealousy contract to everyone else. Really.