Star light star bright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have the wish I wish tonight
(I wish I become a ballerina.)
That wish lasted until about third grade when I decided I was going to be the first female President of the United States. Then I found out I could sing, and all my political aspirations when right out the window. My new wish was to be famous. Sometimes I would add a disclaimer about how I didn't want to be famous for dying in some really gruesome way, but mostly whenever the opportunity for a wish presented itself, I would wish for fame. Not so much fortune (that came later) - I just wanted to be famous.
What does this have to do with the theme of this blog, you may ask? I'm getting to that. Hold your horses.
A few weeks ago, Ricky Martin made headline news (if you consider Yahoo! "headline news") by coming out of the closet. After my initial, "well, duh," I thought, "Holy crap! I'm glad I didn't have to come out to the entire universe at once!" Coming out to one person at a time is tricky enough. I mean, I guess there comes a point when you reach some kind of "critical mass" and then you're just out. You don't have to keep telling people. They just know.
But what would it be like to have not yet reached that point and suddenly your coming out story is national news? Whoa. I've never been so glad that a wish didn't come true.
(I'm also glad that I'm not the President of the United States, though technically, I've got three more years before I'm old enough to even run, so I guess there's still a chance...)