farewell, my fallen star
November 20, 2003, 10:21 pm
I was never ridiculously in love with any celebrity as a kid...well, except for NKOTB and Tom Cruise, and one particular blonde haired lad that I fantasized that I would meet over and over again. I taped his pin-up poster over my bed, and would pray for sweet dreams of him at night. Ah, young love.
Imagine my surprise, denial, and not just a bit of hurt upon finding out that Jonathan Brandis died last week.
Now, celebrity deaths shouldn't affect regular human beings like you and me (well, except for Fred Rogers, he's a special case). We should nod our heads solemnly, reflect on how they entertained us, and say, "Oh, that's a shame."
But tonight my eleven-year-old self is crying that the boy whom she swore she'd marry is gone; my fourteen-year-old self is staring mournfully at the pin-up and wondering what the hell must have happened to kill him so fast.
Right now, I'm sad for my past selves; I'm mourning with them on some bizarre level...and I don't think I could watch Ladybugs or Sidekicks with any type of amusing kitsch factor again. I can't laugh that he ate a cricket for $10 on the Jon Stewart show on MTV or giggle that Mike screwed him over in Sea World.
There's an odd sort of hollow that I never knew existed within me, a sort of "dead celebrity file" that comes with the experience of the loss of a teen idol, the kind of celebrities that make a girl believe in uncomplicated, one-sided, and unrequited love.
*sigh* Poor, poor JB...what's your price for flight?