Many moons ago, my sister and I were convinced we were Hollywood material.

We saw no difference between ourselves and Lindsay Lohan, Miley Cyrus, or Avril Lavigne (oh yes, remember her?). I wrote songs and played guitar and we filmed music videos on my dad’s dinosaur of a Sony camera. When I stumbled across one of our creations the other day, I literally had to wipe away tears of laughter. It’s not that we’re bad exactly, it’s that we took ourselves so seriously. I mean, we had costumes. And make-up! And these creepy come-hither, slut-it-up-for-the-audience faces. You have to see it to fully appreciate it, I think.

Clearly, I had a pretty deluded sense of self worth – but at the time I figured if you can kind of sing, kind of dance, and kind of play an instrument, you fulfilled all the requirements of stardom. And let’s be honest. Britney Spears barely manages a third of those. On a good night.

Considering how little talent is required to be famous these days, there’s a small part of me that actually believes we could have made a name for ourselves if our parents had just been pushy and fame-obsessed and weird. Thankfully, they’re weren’t. But if they had been… who knows!

Today, my sister and I are both fairly normal, well-adjusted individuals. We still enjoy attention, but the path to fame has shifted. She’s a brilliant entrepreneur who’s conquering the world one small business at a time and I’m more of a thinker, writer, and occasional whiner. Either way, we make ourselves heard.

My awkward teenage dreams may never come true, but as I get older I’m increasingly okay with that.

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