Way back in 1992, during what now seems like an alternate universe, I was a young girl playing sick from elementary school and sneaking peeks of music videos while mom was in the next room doing laundry. Those were the days when MTV actually played music videos and was more than the mere skeleton of a channel we know today. When MTV programming once catered to my inner artist and dreamer as opposed to the constant influx of reality dating shows and Teen Mom marathons that now flood the station.
One of my favorite videos from that land far, far away was George Micheal's Too Funky. This was back when he was only ambiguously gay and didn't frequent public bathroom stalls. I would sit on my couch and daydream of a life more glamorous, filled with supermodels and caviar and dreamed of becoming a star. This was a time when supermodels were on the covers of magazines and actresses were trapped inside our television sets. Entertainers were admired for their craft and (gasp!) their talent. A time before the hottest and sometimes trashiest, rehab vacationing, baby mama drama having, cheating bastard of a husband suffering starlets sell more copies of Vanity Fair, Cosmo and Vogue compared to anyone or anything else.
Whatever happened to a time when models actually modeled and actress were known for their acting? Is this supposed caste system of the entertainment industry ancient history? Is there a distinction between fame, infamy and a diabolically manipulated cheap promotional stunt? Is there room in this pyramid for people like me and can one move up or down in the ranks? As of late, I’ve been trying to figure out exactly where I fit into this picture.
Don’t get me wrong, I am clearly pro shameless and indulgent self promotion. I mean, I haven’t competed on just one reality show, but on two! I searched for a relevant explanation for my actions and came up with two reasons: (1.) I wanted to catapult myself into stardom by any means necessary and (2.) Blatant desperation. Why else would anyone want to subject themselves to the torture? In the end though, aren’t they the same thing? Aren’t fame and desperation becoming synonymous in our present culture?
I believe reality shows have created a new form of pseudo-celebrity, an indefinable, magical creature living in a world where salacious and over-the-top behavior overshadows any form of subjective talent. I like to call it the train wreck effect. They’re just too good and more often too bad not to watch. But this can’t possibly be where I fit in! I mean, I can sing! I can act! Some people might even go as far to say I’m relatively funny if I try hard enough. More importantly, I might even have a brain to back it all up!
All talents aside, as of late, I’m beginning to feel more like a glitter covered particle of dust floating somewhere between the D 1/2-list and just another self indulgent reality show contestant (aka, enabling the downfall of pop culture as we know it.) But even still, I haven’t lost hope! I believe my childhood dreams of becoming a star and being admired for my abilities are still within my reach. Why else would I have chosen to take the reality show scenic-route short cut in the first place? Two reasons: (1). My morals are too high to resort to porn and (2.) I was running out of patience!
The moral of this story is a girl can and should always dream big! That’s one of the many reasons why America is so beautiful. It’s a place where the streets are paved with proverbial gold and anyone can make any dream a reality. I mean crazier things have happened! Jersey Shore is now a national phenomenon and Jwoww is now a household name. We live in a time where anyone has the ability to achieve their highest, starry-eyed potential. With a little luck, the right timing and a mix of talent and promotion on your side, anything is possible! I'm sure every hopeful Hollywood model/actress/cocktail waitress hybrid and perma-tanned, fist pumping guido will agree with me on this one.
I believe I will one day find the ever elusive place where opportunities meet my talent and my preparation. (With a little help from executive producers Tyra Banks and Ashton Kutcher, of course) Hopefully, this will become my actual reality sooner rather than later, because I also believe I have the goods to back it all up. I refuse to give in to the fear I will forever end up in the abyss of reality contestant never-never land, a fate far worse than being called "just a tool" on Tool Academy. Although sometimes I feel very far from the glamorous life I once imagined while playing hooky as a little girl, I find comfort in believing I’m becoming closer to my dreams of fame and fortune every day. It feels good and it gives me hope... Even if it’s all in my own little pseudo-celebrity mind.
