My 15 minutes

Do you ever wonder if you'll get your 15 minutes? I mean REALLY wonder?

I keep thinking that I've had mine. But, then again, maybe not. Then, I think, yes, yes, they will happen. Someday.

When I've written my best-selling novel or my best-selling self-help book.

Or maybe they'll come from some altruistic endeavor I've done. But, no, those don't usually happen either because I try not to let everyone know when I do nice little things. The Baptist upbringing sneaks out and reminds me that your good deeds aren't TRULY good if you let people know you're doing them.

So, who knows if I'll ever get my 15 minutes. Does it really matter? No, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't. But, dammit. I want my 15 minutes. I really do.

What set me off like this? Reading Wil Wheaton's blog about turning 33. I don't begrudge the man being younger than me, but I do envy him. He has done so much in his life so far. Doing things he really wants to do. He has written two books. One is very good and the other I'm going to read soon and critique on here, as well. But, I think it, too, will be good. I need to dedicate some time to my writing. Maybe that will make me less bitter. Or maybe it is this marathon PMS that is making me pissy. *shrug* Regardless. I'm going to start WRITING when this job is done. It may be fishsticks, but I'm going to write.

Then, maybe I'll have my 15 minutes and you'll see me on Oprah. Or better yet Ellen DeGeneres. I like her better anyway. Oooh, Kelly and Nick Lachey. I won't go if Regis is there that day. Has to be Nick Lachey or nothing. Hmm. I like this idea already.

15 minutes ... even Sean Hannity asks for three hours every day. I'm only asking for one block of 15 minutes.