50 Days of 50: I am a Star! DAY 48

5/27/2012   DAY 48mafia hairdresser

So you know I changed my name when I was younger because I always wanted and knew I was “going to be a star!” Oh yes: when I grew up in L.A. County I always hung out, shopped, dressed, acted like and positioned myself as if, at any moment, I was going to be “discovered.” I just knew that a Hollywood agent was going to see how special I was and then put me on TV with my own show, “The Bionic Boy,” “Charlie’s Angel-Dudes,” “Knott’s Landing’s Kids,” a reboot of “Lost in Space” (I always wanted my own Robot), or “Mork and J-D.” My parents did a terrific job at raising me and my brother but every child has to have something to blame their parents for and mine is that they never were good stage parents.
It was always, “Sure, I’ll send your ‘audition reel’ to Irwin Allen, just as soon as mow the lawn,” or “Acting lessons? You act like you’re high and mighty every day. Why do you need acting lessons?” My parents never really took my ambition seriously. Who knows where I’d be today if they could have just seen that they had that one in a million child who could have withstood the perils, the hardships, the hard work and survived the loss of childhood itself by putting me through the child-star Hollywood mill? For I was special. And not like today’s kids who never have to do chores and who only aspire be on TV for being the spoiled people they were raised to be. They couldn’t even be real actors in this day and age anyway: There are no scripted shows to show off any talent even if they had any. I was willing to learn a craft. I had the discipline and the ambition. I just didn’t have the parents. Of course, I have forgiven them. But can the rest of the world?
I have long ago released the heavy weight of blame, the anger, the hurt, and the agony of a child-star career that never was. It’s been a long road of forgiveness fraught with many heart-mending hours of reading self-help books, years of therapy, and frightening my friends, as much as I could, with insincere threats of suicide. For me, being a person who could not be who they were meant to be was like living another person’s life, or purgatory, and I think I have wasted a great part my life reaching out for the attention that I always knew should have been mine. It’s clear to me now that I am one of the people who have always needed much more love, tons more attention, and many more pictures of myself on my Facebook wall than regular folk. But now my face is sagging. And I’m not cute and cuddly anymore. And my friends are on to me. “Don’t spatter yourself on my new car if you jump off the roof the building. I parked on the street.” And I have to realize that Irwin Allen is never going to remake Lost in Space because he’s dead.
I’m moving on, dear readers. I’m finally letting it go. Turning 50 has changed me. Matured me. I’m going to proudly wear my “I’m not a TV Star but neither are you,” badge proudly. And it’s okay. Because 50 has done something wonderful and that is that I won’t need the love and attention that a star would need anymore. As I mentioned before, my women clients and friends have extolled so much wisdom on me and they told that 50 was a magical number. They said, at 50, they stopped caring what other people thought of them and they became empowered. And that is what has occurred for me too! I don’t need attention. In fact, I don’t give a flying-f__k what anyone thinks of me at all. I love myself. OH God! I can say it now and I truly believe it! You see, in my heart, I am a star; and I have a dog named Lassie and a Robot and my best friend is an alien and I can solve crimes for a mysterious unseen man’s voice on a speaker box and I can see through walls and I live in a cul-de-sac in near the ocean and people are afraid of me and worship me at the same time.
Thank you, friends, for being here for this life-energizing and empowering epiphany. It’s been a long time in coming. I truly forgive you, my dear parents. I guess there’s really no more point to living anymore though. I’ve got life’s entire lesson under my belt. I might as well kill myself.



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