June 19, 2001
3:14 pm

I've always wanted to be a superstar, I think. Unbeknownst to many, it has always been my desire, the fantasies of my quiet moments. I dream of writing that wonderfully complicated multi-layered comically tragic screenplay that would out do the mind-blowing success of Titanic. I dream of writing the next craftily constructed classic internationally best-selling novel. I dream of writing the songs that tug at heart strings or melodies so catchy that one can't help but tap in time. I want to perform those songs with the dynamic, wide-ranged, rich vibrato voice of an Ella Fitzgerald or Sarah Vaughan. I dream of creating a cartoon show with a real character that appeals to people at all levels, and whose storylines are so funny because they're so true. I dream of astounding the doubtful and those weakened in their faith with inspirational speeches about the true God.

Essentially, I want to do it all. However, that's a pretty tall order and I can't forsee it all happening. It's like asking a little kid what she wants to be when she grows up and she replies," a lawyer, a doctor, and an actress!" It's HIGHLY unlikely all that can be done.

At age 14 I began a play I never finished (which is good because it was stupid). I've written numerous stories, most of which were mediocre. I have written a few songs and they all suck (let's not even get into the bad poetry I've written). My art teachers seem to hate almost everything I put to paper, canvas, or any other media. I can barely get my own Christian life in order, let alone inspire others to do so. It's all quite depressing, really.

However, it doesn't stop me from singing at the bathroom mirror like the world is my stage.

Perhaps I take solace in the fact I'm still young. Despite the fact that it already feels like I've spawned a lifetime of memories, there should be much more to come. If God decides not to take me sooner than expected there will be plenty of time to accomplish the things I want.

Perhaps my exaggerated fantasies are a result of realizing how quickly time can pass. One day I might look up and realize I'm 40-years-old, stuck in a job I hate, and am forced to come home to a tiny apartment and empty bed every night. I don't know how well I'd manage settling into a life I don't want. That seems such a terrible fate.