I am sitting here, teeth clenched in fury over the realization that no one thinks I do one of the best journals online. No one gives me awards like the Mining Company's Net Find of the Week. I've chosen many excellent journals to be in Archipelago, and one by one they are all getting the awards, the praise, the outside pat on the back that I'd very much like. I'm not enormously egotistical but I think I write well. Only it seems like maybe I'm a fan club of one. I don't know what to do. Maybe it's because I only write about the small things instead depression, abuse, alcoholism, or something more engrossing than buying bath salts. And I do have fans, of course I do, or there wouldn't be something like 75 readers per day hitting my site.
So why am I not winning anything but sympathy awards or "You're a female online!" awards? Where is my fucking This Site Rocks Utterly award, eh? Do I suck that bad? Am I merely commonplace? Does my site not stand out? Would I get into Archipelago if I hadn't started it?
I am so pissed off. I don't understand this. Always a freaking A-, never an A. I'm never quite good enough when measuring myself against others. I don't get picked first for teams. I don't get plucked from obscurity, having suddenly been recognised as a marvelously unique individual. I'm a team player when I want to be, ought to be, a team leader. I'm sick of it! I refuse to believe that I'll never be truly good. When am I good enough for everyone else? I can go year after year trying to create work that pleases me and makes me happy, but I am not operating in a vaccuum. I want some external validation. I want someone who has the same high standards as I do to bop me on the head with the fairy wand and make me visible to the vast hordes who wander the Internet looking for something fun to read. I am not dismissing the 75 readers who enjoy what I do when I rant about this, please understand me. That's very important to me. But I want a gold star, a big check, my own tv series, a .net award that has meaning. I want it so much that it makes my throat close tight. I want, at least once in my life, to be Numero Uno at something I've worked hard at.
Oh, forget it. Forget it. If I were really good, I'd have won, wouldn't I? I guess I'd just better face up to it: I'm not really quite as good as everyone else whom I admire. My best simply isn't good enough. That's a hard lesson to learn. It's been 40 years and I still haven't learned it.
I refuse to learn it.
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