"Don’t You Know Who I Am Yet?"
An Autobiography by Jonathan Jaxson
Everyone wants to be famous. Maybe not the kind of fame that comes with people digging through your trash, not being able to back your car out of the driveway for fear of running over a paparazzo’s foot, or going blind from constant flash bubs going off in your face, but we all want the luxuries fame entails. The house in the Hamptons. The free designer gowns and suits made especially to fit your unique body. Your own island to vacation on in the summer and the private jet to get you there. Fame means freedom- the freedom to be admitted into a club you could never get into before, or the freedom to shop in stores you could never before afford. But most importantly, fame bestows upon you the knowledge that you are no longer one of many. You are special. Others will want to be like you, dress like you, smell like you, be near you.
Being near a famous person is a spiritual experience. It feels as if part of their fundamental nature, their essence if you will, rubs off on you, and, for just a moment, you are able to rise above the constraints of mediocrity and into the bliss of immortality. The famous, after all, never really die. Marilyn Monroe. River Phoenix. Kurt Cobaine. Princess Diana. Heath Ledger. These illustrious icons are not really dead. They have simply moved beyond the realm of fame into everlasting infamy. When famous people die, the world stands still for a moment, to reflect on that lost soul’s genius. It doesn’t really matter that Anna-Nicole Smith had the IQ of a turnip; she became famous and beloved with virtually no discernable talent in her repertoire. That fact alone made her a genius. To become world-renown simply for being world-renown requires an illusive quality unique to the famous individual. That quality is difficult to find. If it were present in everyone then everyone would be famous.
I have spent my whole life in search of that quality. I, like everyone else, desire fame and all the trappings that accompany it. For me, “blending in” is a fate worse than death- it is torture. If I am the same as the masses then I might as well be invisible. Growing up, I struggled to find something within myself that was worthy of recognition, a nearly impossible challenge since I was raised to truly believe I was worthless. Regardless, I find myself fortunate. I live in a time in which one needn’t be extraordinarily talented in order to become famous. Instead, those who are famous are viewed as extraordinary. Nowadays, anyone can be famous, so why not me? All I needed was a story. Lucky for me, my life story was made for trash-talk TV, tabloid journalism, and water-cooler gossip. In an era where forgetting one’s panties, shaving one’s head, developing an eating disorder, and going to rehab for the third time is considered standard famous behavior, surely my childhood misfortune and rampant “misbehavior” was worthy of the world’s attention.
However, sometimes simply being scandalous isn’t enough. In order to guarantee my fifteen minutes of fame, I would have to get close enough to a few already established famous folk and borrow some of their spiritual essence. In other words, I would learn their secrets. Due to the fact that fame and alcohol consumption often go hand and hand, I learned not just the secrets of becoming famous, but all the salacious details of my notorious cohorts’ private lives as well… all of which I am prepared to disclose… in the interest of promoting candor of course. I witnessed shocking celebrity behavior tabloid journalists would pay through the nose to see. These inadvertent pop idol calamities taught me the biggest lesson of all. If you want to become famous, you must be willing to engage in shamefully shocking behavior. (Once you actually are famous you can act like a refined dignitary, in other words, as boring as Gwenyth Paltrow.)
With this lesson in mind, I proceeded to broadcast my gay marriage on network television, secure multiple spots on “Ricki Lake,” and made sure I was seen (and heard) at all the right hot spots. Later in life I became a Hollywood publicist and indirectly benefited from making others rich, recognized and privileged. To do all of this, I had to learn to sweet talk anyone into anything. However, to claim all of this was easy, and that you can easily do it too, would be a lie.
Becoming legendary is hard enough as it is, but for me, because of where I came from, it was almost an impossibility. Just to get where I am now, I had to somehow get over my parents’ very public rejection, and live through a period of being homeless, several health scares, and a brutal rape. I guess the long and the short of it is, if I can do it, so can you… but the real question isn’t whether the “average” citizen can achieve fame, but should he even try? Is fifteen minutes of recognition really worth the trouble? Furthermore, is it even the least bit rewarding? I wish I could say that through the pursuit of fame I have achieved freedom and through that happiness, but that would be a fairytale, not an autobiography. So here I am, prepared to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Elvis. This is my story.
What do you think so far? The book is mostly written, all 10 chapters, but I am still in the process of getting the idea book deal.
DISCLAIMER: This posting was submitted by a user of the site not from The Insider editorial staff. All users have acknowledged and agreed that the submission of their story and its contents is in compliance with our Terms of Use.
Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince
New Moon
Xmen Origins
Star Trek: The Motion Picture
Subscribe to our RSS Feed
Comments (0)