Almost famous March 3, 2013

 

 

Her latest post on her personal Facebook page still bemoans her lack of fame., saying that she feels as if she has no place in this world.

She expresses jealousy of those who have succeeded and get to live the luxurious life – as referred to in that 2003 poem about change of perspective.

She wants to be one of the jet set, and get to shuffled ahead of the crowd, even though as that poem pointed out, she used to hate those kinds of people.

The fact that she can’t get there (or perhaps back to it) despite all of her talent and how she had done to achieve really, really frustrates her.

She just doesn’t seem to be able to come up with a formula for success.

I feel sorry for her, partly because if she can’t get what she wants with all of the talent she has, and her ability to work her way up (trickle up) in whatever structure she finds herself in, it is possible she may never get there, having some fundamental flaw that keeps her from finding the right door and the right key to unlock it for her.

She appears to be running out of options, having done all those things she’s already done in her life only to wind up largely in a thankless job the Virgin Mayor gave her out of pity, somehow needing to use it to get real power when there does not seem to be a pathway to success from where she is currently sitting.

What exactly does she do next?

She tried to accept a small role in government. But it is not enough to satisfy her instable appetite for importance, doing all those menial tasks while those around her wield real power.

By this time, she must realize that RR is all talk and little action, and that she had followed him down a blind alley. She still winds up with a small fish who has visions of turning himself in a big fish but never will.

Meanwhile, she appears to be doing what she has always done in such situations: just getting by.

You have to wonder how long she can keep up this act before time catches up with her when she can no longer rely on her good looks to get her through doors closed for others.

I keep thinking of that rapist she picked up in the bar that night now seeming so long ago and how she claimed she was “just working something out” with the affair.

You have to wonder what it is she needs to prove, and at what point she will come to realize she can’t take the escalator to the top any more or sit in a gilded room with famous people staring down at her from out of their gilded frames, and she is forced to take the back stairs up, and worse, back down again.

After she posted her Facebook art page, I posted a poem pointing out that most of the famous artist made it after they were dead.

But I agree with her. She ought to be famous, just like all those poor soul’s in Gray’s Church Yard ought to be, as many others ought to be, and never are.

 

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