Best Of Joy

Chapter 1: Coincidence

            I was never one to obsess over people I didn't know.

             So the idea of celebrities, sensationalism, and all of that seemed extremely overrated to me.

             The only time I can ever remember caring was once, when I was but a small child. I was about 8 or 9 and I can still remember my mother letting me stay up late to watch the Ed Sullivan Show just to see my favorite boy-band perform.

             The lead singer-- the short fellow-- was about my age, and I remember watching and studying the way he moved. It just amazed me that someone as little as I was able to portray himself as such an elder in the music industry. This was what made him my favorite. He could move, glide, and spin across the stage like a pro. His energy was so radiant. It was apparent to my mother that his inspiration came from the legendary James Brown, whom was her idol back then.

           But I idolized HIM, the short fellow with the crazy little legs. He always inspired me to be the best at everything I did, to reach my potential. It's a shame I never can remember the name of the band, or more surprisingly, the name of the little boy.

             Probably because my life took an extreme turn by the time I aged to 10.

             My mother died that year of cancer, and because my father couldn't handle it, he became an alcoholic. The liquor took over his mind and he became violent and cold. Because I had no siblings, I had no one to turn to for support. No one I could lean my problems on. I mean, God was there. He always was. But I needed to be touched, to be held. To be squeezed tightly by warm, loving arms and to be told everything was going to be alright. There was none of that for me. So I decided to do what no 10 year old ever dreams of doing-- I left. Just like that.

             I left my small town in New York, and slowly made my way to the west coast over the course of 8 years. I kept food in my stomach by finding whatever small job I could in the area I happened to be in at the time. But eventually I arrived; a brand new adult in a brand new world. The east and west are like night and day. I loved the warm weather; scorching-hot during the summer and just right in the winter. It was June all the time, unlike the east.

             You'd think winding up in such a hotspot-city like Encino, California would make me star-struck, but no. I was a little at first when I'd arrived, because that's just what happens when you come to Cali from so far away. But that quickly wore off.

             The year soon turned to 1983 and I still wasn't into any of that. Was still living in the beautiful city of Encino and it didn't even phase me. I guess you could say I was pretty much cut-off from civilization...in a way. I didn't have TV. I didn't look at magazines or tabloids. I found that stuff irrelevant. Hell, I didn't hardly listen to the radio. Nor did I know the names of the latest hits or the names of the hot, young artists who'd created them. Don't get me wrong, I loved music and always will. But it was my job that kept me from coming out of my little (yet beautiful) lair on 4642 Hayvenhurst Avenue and into reality.

             I loved my job as a novelist. I spent most of my time at home thinking up the next big New York Times' best-seller, and trust me, it paid off. Four of my novels made it on that list, and if I did say so myself, I was pretty good at what I did. But only because I was so dedicated. I had almost no social life...well okay, I didn't have one at all. I was like a nerdy college student; I'd devoted most of my time to my work and to trying to be successful. And in some ways, it bothered me. Sometimes I got unbearably lonely, because when I pondered it...I'd never really had a true friend. No one I could lean on. But I think the loneliness that came from my success MADE my success. That was how I would channel all the feelings of anger when I realized what I'd done to my life-- I wrote it down on paper. Thus, the masterpiece created itself and the whole thing started over again. Though sometimes, I felt like I needed to be writing and sculpting my own story-- the story of my life-- instead of wasting it on ficticious novels.