How to Eat Your Heart Out

I just recently discovered that someone I knew in high school is not only a fairly successful tech writer (with several how-to books published), but also has a book of poetry published, has won at least one literary prize and is something of a celebrity on the West Coast art/lit scene.

I could be mistaken about the identity, of course. I haven't seen or talked to this person in more than 15 years, but the coincedences are pretty astounding.

I guess in the interests of thoroughness I should try to email her and touch base. If it is her, it's cool. I'm happy for her. Really. She's doing the things I want(ed) to do (sort of). And it seems like she's doing what she wanted to do when I knew her. That's pretty rare and something to be proud of.

It just makes me feel worse about myself and my miserable place in life (I know, I know. People starving, dying in war, living in squalor, etc, etc. Knowing all that doesn't make it any easier to be where I don't want to be. Trust me).

Another stage in my evolution. Now I'm old enough to know people who are more successful than I am, who are around my age and whom I knew when I was younger. Great.

Getting old *is* fun.