Why I Want to be Famous

I haven’t always admitted it, but I’ve wanted to be famous since I was in pre-school. I love the spotlight, and can be quite entertaining. I’ve come to the point where many of my friends and classmates tell me that they have no doubt that I will be famous one day. I myself believe it will happen too. But one question they often ask me, one that I’m sure people who are less amused by my ambitions may have answered for themselves, is: Why do you want to be famous?

Celebrities live both charmed and cursed lives. They fly first-class, attend exclusive events in bejeweled gowns, vacation in places most people have never even heard of, and seem to get younger and fitter the more famous they get. On the other hand, their foibles and misfortunes are unapologetically splattered across every screen and glossy page in sight. They have more enemies and former fans than trusted friends and close family combined. They stumble into addiction and are scorned for their imperfections. They are adored by millions one year, and quickly forgotten and tossed aside the next. Who would want such an unpredictable, often tumultuous, existence?

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I have a history for being a Drama Queen, relishing in the delicious agony of my heartbreaks and misfortunes. I’ve since adopted the idea that I don’t have to run from sadness, pain, or discomfort, and nor do I have to wail about it for all the world to see. It will happen, and I can acknowledge it, and let it begin and then end—as all good and bad things do. So it’s not just that—although it surely plays a part.

I want to be famous for good reasons and for worrisome reasons. Sometimes I mix up the good reasons with the bad ones, and then I wonder if it even matters.

I have something to share with the world. Michael Jackson had music inside of himself. It had to come out—through his body and his voice. He didn’t just sing and dance for the amusement of his parents’ friends. Whether he wanted to or not, Michael Jackson and his family perfected his craft, and groomed him to be famous, so that everyone around the world could experience the music he had to share. I have words. Some of them are elegant with piano fingers, ready to fill the world with advice on how to be happier. Some of them wear six-inch heels and lip gloss and want to giggle and whisper in your ear about what to do on a date. I have gangly, awkwardly cute words that can make you laugh more loudly than you expected to. I want to share my words—my ideas—with the world.

I seek intimacy with large numbers of people. I’m a plane talker. You know those people who just won’t shut up during the silent 30-minute takeoff, and sometimes not even for the entire flight? That’s me. I have forged deep connections with people within a period of hours—and sometimes less than that. I know how to connect with people, and it energizes me. The thought of having people I have never met feel like they know me—because they’ve gotten to know me through my words—makes me really happy. Maybe one day it would get old, but the thought of reading fans’ letters, hearing their stories, and lighting up someone’s heart by acknowledging and empathizing with them sounds like a dream.

I crave an environment of creativity and flamboyance. There is no pursuit I can think of where creativity and flamboyance are more celebrated—and often necessary–than the world of entertainment. In this world, I don’t have to apologize for being loud, saying crazy things, or jumping from one activity to another with equal fervor. I can be myself—and I can also be a dramatized version of myself—and both of those personas will be appreciated and understood.

I want to be rich. Money can’t buy you happiness, and the fear of losing one’s money makes many people miserable. However, money can buy me really delicious food, beautiful clothes, tickets to expensive plays and film festivals, and help me support my large and loving family in the pursuit of their dreams. When I’m famous, I’ll be like Keyshia Cole—extremely generous with my family members and wanting them there with me every step of the way. Watching how she would fly her entire extended family to take them on a vacation, buy her mom and her sister a new home, and give away her clothes and time to inspire young girls who share her adolescent background was inspiring to me.

If I had to put “rich” and “famous” in order, I’d rather be well-known and less rich than rich and not well-known, which makes it clear to me that my desire is about the attention and influence celebrities have more than the money that they have.

People say that celebrities and artists want to be loved, because they don’t love themselves enough. They want to be validated, because they feel unworthy. They want to be admired, because they dislike themselves. I do want to be loved, validated, and admired, but I feel that I have that now and will always have that whether I’m famous or a seventh-grade teacher in Austin. So maybe that’s why I have no problem admitting I want to be famous. I don’t see it as something to be ashamed of. It’s just a part of me, a potential within that seeks expression. That seed is deeply rooted in me. I’m just trying to help it grow.