Starry eyes.

You know – she says – I feel kind of sorry that nobody has discovered me yet. I truly wanted to be. 

I of all people should know. My dear beautiful friend wanted to be discovered so much she used to take her lunch hour and walk by all the movie and photo shoot locations (this being New York, sometimes Spielberg has to patiently wait while Ron Howard is wrapping up), in the hopes of being discovered. And she was really crushed when she wasn’t.  So was I.

While I have an unhealthy faith in serendipity and fate. (If it is written, it will happen) I truly want to be discovered as well. I want these cool people in black and utilitarian khaki vests to stop in front of me, point and say: “Oh she is it. I want her for my movie and I will not take a NO for an answer. only she will do” Possibly I’ll scoff and I’ll look for the hidden camera. But then I will graciously accept and go on to star in the next movie to win Oscars in all categories and I’ll buy a mantle with the proceedings so I can see my little gold men every day.

It is strange how we all cling to these childish fantasies of stardom and do not want to give them up. for example, take my friend, a woman of a very unique type of beauty, who pretty soon will be a lawyer and who has been supporting herself since the age of 21, wants to be an actress. point a camera at her and she forgets all the poise and wisdom gathered and starts giggling like a schoolgirl. My other gorgeous friend (can’t help it, gorgeous women flock to me) feels accomplished not when she receives her 6 figure salary check, but when somebody gives her an itty-bitty role in an off-off-off-off Broadway play. Suddenly, they tolerate short, innapropriate and crazy jerks simply because of the cameras in their hands. 

So this is me, a crazy woman with 4 jobs (i guess if I ever get fired, the unemployment rate will go way way down) who dreams of a dazzling performance. something fantastic that will blow people away. tear-eyed fans trying to steal a piece of my discarded underwear. hungry paparazzi with monstrous zooms and night vision following me to the bathroom. conticipated  designers pushing their gowns and jewelry at me. adoration, lust, rehab. in short, I want to be a star.

– I think i was destined for stardom. my friend says. Well, possibly. She was the infamous star of her little town when she decided to break her arranged engagement and move to the US. Then again, she worked in a bad place to make money quickly, then worked herself through a degree and law school. Through out this period she managed to resist innumerable offers of marriage and the tears of her mother, worried that her daughter would be a spinster for the rest of her life. and then she moved out. So today she is pretty accomplished (even if still a spinster) and still waiting for her big break, her shot at stardom, the bright ray that will blind all adoring fans.

And so am I. Get out of my light.

2 thoughts on “Starry eyes.

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