We’re talking envy this week. Envy is not something I have an issue with. The truth is, I am a highly evolved human being who finds envy a waste of time. I mean, envy isn’t even a worthy enough sin to make it into Dante’s circles of hell; envy lies in purgatory.
So I am not envious. But I have this blog post to write about envy. I’ve got to come up with something. Hmmm. Well, I guess if I really thought about it, I do kind of envy people who write for The New Yorker. In my house, The New Yorker has always been the pinnacle of literary success. And if I press myself a little more, there’s a tad of envy for those who have written for The New York Times. And The Atlantic. And Brain, Child. And, really, any publication I haven’t written for. I want to write for ALL the publications!
Oh, hell. What have I started? Are we really going there? I guess we are. Deep breath. Let’s go:
- I guess I can admit that I envy that writer who got a huge advance and is therefore getting all the attention from her publishing house.
- Oh, and I also envy that writer who got a smaller advance because she will likely earn out faster and be more likely to sell a second book to her publisher.
- Okay, so all my running buddies might say that, perhaps, I’ve mentioned once or twice or fifteen times that I think it’s totally unfair that that mother of three always looks like she just walked out of a salon and she’s so thin you can tell she doesn’t have a problem with gummy bears.
- Mmm, gummy bears. Well, that’s legit. I totally envy anyone eating gummy bears right now. Hold on a moment, while I see if I have any gummy bears.
- Ugh. I just ate a bag of gummy bears. I feel sick. I definitely envy anyone who didn’t just consume an economy-sized bag of gummy bears.
- I envy those writers who have three pages of blurbs in their books.
- I envy writers who publish when they’re young. Heck, I envy anyone young. Not that I want to be young again. I just want my knees to not sound like popcorn popping every time I stand up.
- I envy anyone with a two-book deal.
- I envy those who are smart enough to know the difference between envy and jealousy and who didn’t have to look it up before writing a blog post about envy.
- Let’s not talk about bestseller lists. I triple-dog envy (with a cherry on top) anyone who makes it onto a bestseller list. I am so envious of bestsellers that there should be a new word for it. Grandenvious. Ventevious.
- Ventevious. Venti latte. I envy anyone who is drinking coffee right now. I envy anyone who doesn’t need a coffee right now. I truly envy anyone who doesn’t need a coffee right now but is drinking one anyway.
- I’d say I envy my husband because he can decide that he wants to lose weight, and then a week later be down ten pounds, but the truth is, it just pisses me off.
- When I asked my daughter who I envied, she said hopefully, “People with dogs?” Honestly, I don’t. I finished toilet training children eight years ago. I am so over cleaning up poop.
- I envy anyone who doesn’t have to fight with his or her children over bedtime. Or Xbox. Or viola practice. Or Hebrew school. I won’t go so far as to say I envy those with child-free lives… although the thought may occasionally flit through my mind.
- I envy writers who aren’t distracted by social media.
- I envy writers who—sorry, lost my train of thought. Someone posted a cat video on Facebook.
- I envy people whose hair does what they want.
- I envy writers who manage to sit for hours a day and get solid work done.
- I envy the sentences of so many writers. I can’t count how many times I read a great novel or memoir and think, “Why couldn’t I have written that?”
- I envy those who say they don’t envy people… and actually mean it.
But other than that, I don’t envy anyone. I mean, why should I? Did I mention how evolved I am? Totally evolved. Totally.
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