About The Devil Wears Prada

It was a horror film. The stuff of my nightmares. Those cinematic happenings were eerily reminiscent of actual real events in my life. Rushing around to clean the office before SHE comes in? Been there, done that. Hearing the personalization of everything as in "she was my biggest disappointment" - HER version was "who let me down?" Pompous, self-aggrandizing, an amazing sense of her own worth, and an entourage of handlers who felt the glory of her reflection as well as the fear of being dressed down, found wanting, failing, being cut off and cut down with a look or expression or moue of disgust, or even worse, a word or phrase. Felt that, hated it.

What is it about our society that fixates on celebrities? I have been up close and personal with some, and frankly, they are by and large obnoxious, self-obsessed, and rude to the mass of peons who occupy the planet. Not to mention often drunk or on drugs. Whenever someone tells me that a celebrity is a great person, I completely disbelieve it. The public persona may be lovely, but just cross that person and I firmly believe the claws will come out. Maybe there are some people they know for years from before they were famous and with them they can be themselves and lovely and everything. Mazel tov to them. I'm very happy for them. But I believe that they cannot let a new person in. They can let certain people get somewhat close - people who can talk to them carefully and inoffensively, and people who don't mind being treated like crap once in a while. Those people need to have thick skins and a clear sense that the celebrity really is more important than they are.

I'm bitter because I was unable to adjust and become a celebrity pal. I'm bitter because I was kicked out of my own mini-celebrity position at City Harvest and cast into the wildnerness. And so I condemn all celebrities. While still craving it for myself. Sad, sad humanity, that's me.