Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 134

You guys,

I’m gonna be famous. 

I’ve known it since the 3rd grade when I declared in a school project what I was going to be when I grew up.

Whenever I proudly announced my fate to anyone who would listen, my older brother was there to remind everyone that I was selfish and full of myself and liked to make everything about me. My older sister always chimed in:

“Not everybody needs to be the center of attention, Charlie.”

It was a vanity dream. Something to be ashamed of. I could no longer scream my dream from the rooftops without feeling self-conscious about it. 

After that, when people asked what I wanted to be, I still said a famous actress. But then I would laugh, like, haha just kidding, who says they want to be famous?? Not me. 

It’s not that I wanted to be famous. It’s that I saw it in my future. It was a constant image in my head. Visions of my guest appearance on Jimmy Fallon. Jimmy and I would laugh about his first appearance on The Tonight Show when he nervously interrupted all his guests. I was watching from the closet I called home in New York City, drinking Yellow Tail in the dark, and rooting for him like he was my friend. We'd talk about my big success — lip sync professional, Oscar-winning actress, Oscar-winning screenwriter, best-selling author, etc. — We’d lip sync battle (I would obviously win), and I’d rave about my favorite ice cream - Jimmy Fallon Tonight Dough.

I always knew I would “make it big,” pay off all my and my siblings’ college debt, and maybe even buy my parents a beach house at the Jersey Shore. Even when I lived with three bros and a kitchen full of cockroaches I knew I would refer fondly to that time as my humble beginnings. Remember when I was buried under $30,000 in debt and eating spaghetti with butter every night?? 

The picture at the end was always me, super successful and famous.

Fame meant I would finally be seen. Maybe it’s because I was a middle child, or maybe it’s because I grew up in the Northeast where there was little praise and a lot of expectations. But I never felt seen. If I was famous, it would be because people finally saw the real me. A strong, opinionated, transparent, every-emotion-on-her-sleeve, worthy individual. 

For years I stopped telling people my dream. I stopped telling it to myself. Eventually, I stopped believing it. Especially in my 30s because if I was going to be famous, shouldn’t it have happened by now??

And then I started writing online under a pseudonym. I started connecting with people. I started to develop more confidence and finally feel comfortable in my own skin. Slowly, I started to believe my dream again. And now, I’m telling you. 

You guys — I’m gonna be famous.

I’m no longer ashamed of it. I can’t be. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Harry didn’t defeat Voldemort because he was The Boy Who Lived. He defeated Voldemort because he decided he had to. 

The only way for a dream to come true is to share it with the world. I can finally release my greatness that has been trapped inside all these years. It’s not sharing a goal or even manifesting a dream. It’s simply admitting my truth. And it feels damn good to be honest.

I recently had a conversation with David Perell, who has his own niche fame on the internet. I was getting professional photos of my kids for my website and he advised me to be careful with those photos. “When you blow up you’re going to want to keep their privacy.” 

I didn’t think before I responded, “I know. I’ve thought I was going to be famous since I was in the third grade.”

This time I didn’t laugh.

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Until next week,

Charlie