Fame And Un-Fortune

Work was impeccably slow tonight.  In fact the only reason i have time to do this right now is because I was sent home a half hour early. 

Borrowed from gossiphall.com

We get this thing at work called “load.”

Definition: Many large boxes of crap that employees like myself get to walk around and put in it’s rightful places.

One of the boxes always contains a heaping pile of magazines; everything from “People” to half-naked girls in precarious positions. Today, three of the cover stories had the feud going on between Miley Cyrus and her father... I’m not a huge fan of the Disney-kid-gone-bad celebrity.  So for my own entertainment, I flipped it open to read of her demise.

All three articles held the same main point; Billy Ray Cyrus blames the show “Hannah Montana” for collapse of relationships within his family. I don't have too much time to get into this, but I'll do what I can. 

Growing-up, I danced around my room and sang into a hairbrush in the mirror. I would dress-up and pretend to be a dancer for some famous singer, on a Broadway stage in New York City.  I would hold fake press-conferences with my friends, or wear sunglasses in public as a disguise to hide from the paparazzi. 

It was always fun pretending to be famous.  My life felt exciting and dangerous. 

But I doubt, in all honesty, that life in the spotlight is all that it’s cracked-up to be.  Raising families, traveling, marriages ending, drugs, money feuds, contract and music label fights, addictions, rehab, and the complete and total loss of any chance at privacy.  Your day-to-day struggles and worst moments exposed and published for all to read.  The mocking and judgment that those people endure is never ending.  And as nice as the money and the attention would be at times, all the other things you’d have to endure wouldn’t make any of it worth a cent. 

Sometimes I wonder, how it would feel to know that you left this world with a bang.  With people everywhere knowing your name, recognizing you, like Michael Jackson. Or Marilynn Monroe.  No longer here but recognized and known well after their deaths. For their talents and their stories.  

I feel compelled to make a mark somehow.  To leave a significant footprint of some kind.

But that footprint, that mark, will be something positive.  I wouldn’t want people to remember me as the once-innocent celebrity that was caught smoking a bong, or the girl who can’t seem to keep herself out of rehab for abusing substances (I used to be a fan, Lindsay Lohan.) 

They say “bad press is better than no press” In hollywood, but how is that promoting anything good at all? That’s not the kind of attention  I want to be remembered for. I’d rather live a long, happy, healthy quite life where no one but close family and friends knew me than to leave a negative legacy.

How to do it, how to become known, to become remembered, is a question all on it’s own.