Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock
Everyone always commented on how it was a little sad that he had never known a normal life. Everyone, it seemed, thought that it was a pity that he had never gone to regular high school. Or even regular junior high school. That somehow he had missed some kind of essential experience by landing the job on MMC when he was 12. Then being shipped off to Germany when he was 14. That it was some small tragedy that he had never known a normal life.
Justin couldn't understand it. Not really. Oh, sure, intellectually he understood the arguments. And he would nod and agree with whoever was saying it, whatever interviewer or talk show host. And he would trot out the age old lines about how it was the price to be paid and he didn't regret anything and how it was a better education to be able to see the world when he was young.
But inside, inside he never could understand why people didn't get that this was normal for him. That his world had always revolved around performing. Or wanting to perform. Or preparing to audition to possibly get the chance to perform. That was normal for him, damn it.
And he didn't see why everyone else was so adamant that he accept their version of normal. They didn't bother to even ask him about his. Sure, he knew that the vast majority of people did not go through puberty taking correspondence courses and being tutored for high school while touring and trying to become famous and then didn't spend the next few years becoming so famous that they couldn't go anywhere without security and that most people didn't spend millions on their first house. That still didn't make his life any less normal for him.
He just didn't understand it. He didn't understand why people thought it was so vital that he experience their version of a normal life. There were times that, yes, he did wish that he had gone to regular high school and had been a regular guy whose greatest concern at the age of 16 was whether or not he was going to get to be the starting point guard that year. That his biggest worry when he was 18 would be trying to figure out who he was going to take to the prom.
But whenever his thoughts traveled down that path, he would curl up and shiver as he tried to imagine it. If he had a normal life, then he would have simply been one in a sea of hundreds. He would have been on his own to try to figure out who he was. Oh sure, he would have had friends. Good friends probably. And of course he always imagined that he would have been popular. Maybe not the most popular one, but popular nevertheless. So he would have had a circle of good friends. But. It wouldn't have been the same. He would have been one of one, not one of five.
Ultimately, that was what he could never comprehend. Why on earth would people want that? Why would they want him to be one of one and not one of five? Did they think that being part of a group somehow took away his individuality? No matter how often he puzzled it over, no matter which way he approached the problem, that was the only answer he could come up with. They must think that being one of five somehow made the one part less.
And that was when he did miss not going to college. Maybe if he had he would know the proper words to explain to them why they were wrong about that. Being a part of the whole let each of them be stronger on their own.
It let Chris withstand the mocking of those who thought he was too old to be part of them, those who said they were prefabricated and ignored all the work Chris put into getting them together, those who ridiculed his clothes and his hair and his voice and his odd ways. Instead, it let Chris flip off the world and continue doing what he wanted, doing EXACTLY what he wanted, all others be damned.
It let JC live as inside his own world as much as he wanted. It gave JC the freedom to let others take care of the details of daily living that JC was more than capable of handling on his own but which took valuable time away from the words and music that soared in him. It gave JC the ability to shrug off the snipes and be utterly who he was, to say what he thought even if only they would understand it.
It let Joey live a life that was as large and grand as he was. Joey had far too huge a heart and soul to be contained in some dreary job. But this, this let him sing and dance and act and live and love. It let the whole world in on the way that Joey could make everything better just by his smile and laugh and presence. It gave Joey a chance to shine.
It let Lance learn all about the business part of being creative in ways that no business school would ever be able to impart. It was the ultimate internship. And it let him be actually creative, kept him from burying away that part of him under the weight of other obligations. It gave Lance the right to demand to be taken seriously at an age when he otherwise wouldn't have been.
And ultimately it gave them all the strength to try new things. Because no matter what happened, no matter how frightening it might be to take those chances, in the end they would always be there for one another. Each step, each discovery, every bit of growth was backed by the utter security of knowing that there were four others who would catch you if you fell. Four others who knew exactly what your life was like and what you were going through because so were they.
So, he didn't get it. Why would anyone want him to be normal like that? To have to figure it all out on his own. To have to search for understanding.
No, he didn't get it at all. Especially at times like this with Chris's arms wrapped firmly around his waist and Chris's calm, even breath ghosting over his neck. And when Joey's chest was pressed so tightly against his that their hearts beat in time. And when he could hear Lance's low snoring sounding in harmony with JC's quiet sighs.
Why would he ever want their normal when he could have his.
Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock
The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintrues.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches tigers
In red weather.