9:59 p.m. | 2006-01-25 Dashed Dreams. Anyone else deeply disturbed by Leif G@rret�s current mug shot? When I was eleven, almost twelve, he was HOT. And, also the boy of my dreams. The one and only time that I placed a �poster� of any person on my bedroom wall. Or well, posters. Seriously, he was cute, in that super cute way. I wrote him letters. Lots of letters. Back in the day. (Mid-70s and all.) My letters were all about me, of course, and about my life � which I figured he�d be interested in because I was 11 � yet they did mention, in a roundabout way, how my life would be so much better if he wrote me back. Did I send any of my letters? Of course not. I�m much more comfortable if my crush doesn�t know he�s my crush. Plus, he was a star. Movie star. Well, TV star I guess. Teenage idol for sure. Notwithstanding that fact, I was sure he�d find my letters fascinating � because I was 11 and found myself fascinating, as eleven-year-olds are wont to do � but I was shy. Imagine that. Fast forward to years later when I was in my early thirties. I happened to be in Mr. Garret�s town, not that I thought of that at the time, but still. Anyway, I was at a party with TV/movie folk and I met a guy about my same age. We conversed for a long time and I enjoyed the exchange. I found out later that he was famous. More bizarre, I discovered that he died � way too young, I must say � when I was watching a biography several years ago about someone else. Who spoke about his death? Um, Leif G@arret. He looked different, I must admit, but not at all like his current mug shot. At the time I thought: Wow, he (Leif) looks different, but not so bad. Now, yeah, not looking so good. The drugs? That�s unfortunate � it dashes my dreams too, but there it is � however, riding on the subway without a ticket? Stupid, stupid mistake to make. Especially when there�s a drug warrant out for your arrest. A contempt of cop one at that. Part of me, that 11-year-old part, still refuses to accept this new Leif. That part? It clings to the old magazine posters. The very ones that adorned my walls. The other part of me, that 41-year-old part? That part of me realizes that people are still just people. As much as folks adorn themselves, educate themselves and further themselves... human nature is simply human nature. That part doesn�t change. However, I still reject that mug shot and console myself by imagining my dream boy as he was portrayed in all the teen magazines. A drop-dead cute youngster who had a brilliant future ahead of him. Not surprisingly � at my age now � I suppose his mother feels the same way. Heh. I would�ve never predicted any of this back in the day. That my dream boy would someday end up in a mugshot book. Caught because he hopped the subway without paying. Please. Then again, I never thought he�d have a receding hairline either. Not with the mop he had back in the day. I think that he just might be more receptive to my letters now. You know, the ones full of adoration. Except... I�m not prone to being star stuck anymore. Heck, I was done with that by the time I was thirteen. People are just people. Still, I feel bad for my dream boy. Life is not so good for him. And frankly, not at all what I had planned for us. I jest. Ha! Except for that part where it�s not good for him. That part, I�m pretty sure of. And, if you don�t know who I�m talking about or question his innate teenage hotness, do a little googling. It'll do you good. your thoughts? seed flower