Jealousy’s a bitch hound from hell.
A bitter pill. An acrid taste in your mouth. And inescapable. Don’t even bother trying. She’ll track you to every safe house/witness protection program/Saddam spider hole and she’ll bite you in the ass again.
Here is who I am jealous of right now:
Elizabeth Jayne Liu of Flourish In Progress – she started her website the exact same time I started mine and she’s exploding.
She’s one of Babble’s Top 100 most powerful mom bloggers. She’s hilarious. She uses curse words copiously and effectively. She’s wise. She’s beautiful. She’s thin. And she’s young enough to be my daughter!
I read Elizabeth trying to find a weakness. A way in which I might be funnier than her. Smarter than her. More deserving of success than her.
I can’t find a one. She’s the real deal.
The other night she had a reading at Chevalier’s book store on Larchmont. Her essay, Liner Notes, has been published in The Moment; “wild, poignant, life-changing stories from 125 writers and artists famous & obscure.
She’s in there with Dave Eggers, Melissa freakin’ Etheridge and Jennifer Egan who just won the Pulitzer for A Visit From the Goon Squad. How did Elizabeth do this? I want in that club.
I decide to go to the reading.
I’ve been trying to meet Elizabeth for some time now. Stalking her the way Salieri stalked Mozart. Able to recognize genius while incapable of wielding it.
I arrive at Chevalier’s a little early, it’s practically vacant. It’s small. A bit run-down. No big deal. Huh. Wonder if anyone’s even going to show up?
I decide to come back closer to the reading time. I wander Larchmont feeling a little sorry for Elizabeth. Such a down-at-the-heels little tucked away bookstore. With no one in it.
When I return it’s packed. Standing room only.
There’s a guy there who looks like Johnny Depp in drag. There’re a lot of rock-n-roll types. It’s a really cool, eclectic crowd.
And there’s Elizabeth with her husband, Norm. I walk up to say hello. She’s more delicate and beautiful in person. I can’t believe the word “motherfucker” could ever come out of that cupid’s bow mouth.
She is shy. And tense. The anti-thesis of her print alter ego. I bluster and flatter and think about how old I must look under the fluorescent lights compared to she and Norm, who are collectively my age.
I want something from her, but I don’t know what it is. Some of her success to rub off on me?
The reading begins. The work is wonderful. I’m moved to tears by a woman who reads about the night she decided to give up her 10-year stripper career in Honolulu.
I’m blown away by the hilarity and grief of a story read by a man who witnessed a dog killed in front of the kids who love it.
Then comes Elizabeth. She reads about the moment she decided to run away from home because her parents wanted her to terminate her teen pregnancy.
I can tell she’s nervous, but she gives the words their due. Projecting her voice from that slender body into the densely-packed space with just the right amount of attitude and irony.
I think “Now there’s a steel magnolia” even though she’s not remotely from the south.
Afterwards, I buy the book. I want to say good-bye to Elizabeth, but she’s surrounded by well-wishers and I don’t want to intrude.
I take myself to dinner at Prado and begin to read the book. Right away ideas for stories and posts of my own pour forth.
A post about the Menopausal Vagina: “It’s quiet in there. Too quiet.”
A book called “22” about my sex life. (The age I lost my virginity? Or the number of men? You’ll have to read to find out).
The story of getting a girl home too late for her surprise birthday party. My one greatest regret.
As I’m typing ideas, some good, some bad, into my phone, I realize I’m not jealous anymore. In supporting Elizabeth by attending her book reading, I’ve been inspired again to pursue my own work.
I’m bursting to get back to it. I remind myself to keep my friends close and my jealousy closer. Give it its due, then dive right into the heart of it. Embrace and accept it, then see what gifts it has to offer.
In my case, my jealousy sent me to a book reading where the object of my jealousy became a real person who inspired me to get back to what I love, which is my own work and my own life.
If you haven’t read Flourish In Progress you really ought to.
It has all the adjectives you’d expect from a mom blog. Irreverent, hilarious, warts and all.
But what it has that sets it apart is the story of a lady who, with true grit, picked herself up by the boot straps and carved out a wonderful life. xo Elizabeth.