I’ve never been particularly attracted to the type of person who demands the spotlight. Growing up in the '80s, it was not the showboating Simon LeBon or sexy John Taylor who kept me tuning in to watch Duran Duran videos on MTV; it was the quiet keyboardist in the background who kind of looked like a girl that caught my interest. The same held true for movies and television. It was not River Phoenix who inspired me to watch Stand By Me seventeen times; I wanted to know more about the guy playing River’s older brother. You know: the actor who got approximately six seconds of screen time. Whatever happened to that guy?

I decided to take the time and investigate what, indeed, had happened to some of my favorite actors you have probably never heard of.

1. Bradley Gregg

With his dark curls and wide eyes, this seldom-seen actor’s appearances on the big screen always made my teenage heart go pitter-pat. This was the man who made the aforementioned role of Eyeball Chambers in Stand By Me unforgettable (in my book; others seem to have forgotten him entirely). He popped up in minor roles throughout the '80s, including as Phillip Anderson (the puppet guy) in Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors and as Sean O’Brien in the Lonesome Dove TV miniseries. You remember—the kid who was killed in spectacular fashion by water moccasins.

Where is he now?

Mr. Gregg dropped off the acting map, having only appeared in four minor roles after 1997. Incidentally, this is the same year that he has stated he found God. He started a film and video production company called Eventide Fields to make movies about how wonderful God is.

What? No drug problems, jail time, or syphilis scandals? This is not how I expect my teenage heartthrobs to wind up. I’m a bit disappointed.

2. Peter DeLuise

Back before Hollywood started making really crappy movies based on ’80s shows, tarnishing the reputation of television in a decade that really wasn’t that bad, there was an awesome little show on the up-and-coming Fox network called 21 Jump Street. While most girls my age were swooning over Johnny Depp in this ensemble piece, it was Peter DeLuise, playing Depp’s partner Doug Penhall, who had me giggling. He then went on to "star" (I use the term loosely) in Stargate SG-1, then disappeared. I thought.

Where is he now?

Peter has continued to act steadily in some really minor roles (“Witness #1” in Smile of April, for instance), never quite achieving the fame his costar found.
DeLuise is reportedly directing television shows, and did have a cameo in the 2012 movie 21 Jump Street. If I were to be honest, I’d tell you that the movie was a festering boil of stinking pus, but did I mention Peter DeLuise had a cameo in it? The teenage girl who still resides deep in my dark soul let loose a high-pitched squeeeee when he showed up on screen.

Also, DeLuise is now losing his hair, but does not shave his head. Yet another teenage crush to disappoint me.

3. Ian Ziering

Beverly Hills 90210 started airing when I was seventeen-year-old girl. I was 100% their target demographic. I missed nary an episode.

At the time, it was not the cocky and crazy Steve Sanders, played by Ian Ziering, who made me all gooey inside. I was a Jason Priestley gal, having adored him since his minor role as Tober in a 21 Jump Street episode. And I’m not gonna lie: Luke Perry was pretty dreamy, too. In my mind, Ziering was just there as the token blond to offset the other two dreamboats’ sideburns.

Then, a funny thing happened. 90210 ended, and Priestley and Perry faded off into that good night, banished to minor TV roles, failed sitcoms, and B movies. And Ziering began to pimp himself with the glee and gusto of a child who has just discovered that pudding not only tastes good, but is fun to fling, too.

Where is he now?

Ian (that’s eye-an, NOT eee-an) has been acting in bad television (Son of the Beach), good cartoons (he was the voice of Harry Osborn in the 2003 Spider-Man series, and Vinnie in Biker Mice from Mars), and the BEST made-for-TV movie series EVER: Sharknado and Sharknado 2: The Second One. He’s happy to pop up on reality television, making it to the semi-finals of Dancing with the Stars in 2005, and currently butting heads with Geraldo Rivera on Celebrity Apprentice. What I like most about this man is that he always, always, seems to be having the time of his life.

Upon meeting Ian Ziering in late 2014, my life came full circle. “Hi,” I said. “I’m your demographic.”

“Hello, demographic,” he said, flashing a wide grin, appearing for all the world to be having the time of his life among aging wrestlers in a crowded, body-odor-reeking convention. Jason Priestley and Luke Perry were but faded teenage memories. As an adult, I was now a full-fledged member of #TeamIan.

There you have it. In case you’ve lain in bed at night wondering what ever happened to the guy that chased River Phoenix on top of a train in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (hint: that, too, was Bradley Gregg), wonder no more. Eventually, we all grow up and find new things to interest us. (Sort of. Go #TeamIan!)

My birthday is next week. When I was younger, this would be a week-long reason to overindulge in adult beverages. Now that I’m older, it’s a week-long excuse to eat frosting right out of the can. It turns out that as you get older, your priorities change . . . for the better.

It hasn’t escaped my notice that this year, I will be turning the same age as both Elvis Presley and Bobby Kennedy—when they died. So by the time Elvis was my age, he’d had 18 number-one singles, starred in 33 movies, and was rich enough to afford a pretty substantial drug habit. I myself have starred in no movies, buy generic ibuprofen because the brand-name stuff is too pricy, and have no hit singles. I did make the cat spontaneously pee on the bathmat when I was singing in the shower once, so I guess that’s something.

And Bobby? What did he do, really? By the time he was my age, he’d been Attorney General of the United States, served as senator of New York, and was running for president when he was shot. I haven’t even been able to muster up the energy to vote in my local school board elections, much less run for office. (I have, however, used my years to become a hardcore Kennedy buff. So again, that’s something.)

I’m starting to feel like a bit of a slouch.

This past year has seen some important changes in my life. Sure, I sold two novels, both of which should be coming out this year, but I’m not talking about the writing career stuff. I’m talking old age stuff.  I got my first pair of bifocals. They didn’t work so well at first, mostly because I couldn’t see through my “God, I’m old!” tears, but now I’m used to them. Sure, I look like my father when I wear them, but at least I can now see the TV and my phone at the same time.

Another milestone that I hit this year was noticeable hearing loss. I’ve had tinnitus in my right ear ever since a particularly rowdy Paul Young concert back in 1986, but that’s not even what I’m talking about. It’s the soft clicks and vibrations I can’t hear anymore. I keep my phone on vibrate at all times, for instance. And at least three times a week, I’ll miss a phone call because I never heard the darn thing buzz. (Not that I’m complaining about this—I despise talking on the phone, and not being able to hear is a fabulous excuse.) I also can’t hear the blinker in my car anymore. How many times over the years had I been in the passenger seat of my father’s truck, and snarkily said “You do know your blinker’s on, right, Dad?” Remember how I said I look like my father in bifocals? Scratch that. Karma has decided to turn me into my father. That's what I get for being a wise ass.

Finally, I’ve realized this year that I’ve been living in a state of utter denial. I’d decided some time ago to stop dyeing my hair until the grey demanded that I do so. I was able to get away with this only because the lighting in my bathroom is terrible and I couldn't see the grey (also, I needed bifocals). I had the opportunity to look in a mirror with overhead fluorescent lighting the other day, and guess what? The grey is getting pretty demanding. It’s a bit depressing. I’ve seen a million pictures of Bobby Kennedy, and I don’t ever remember him being this grey.

I’d let all this get me down, but I’ve been trying to remember this: I have two books coming out this year. Elvis  wrote no books. Bobby wrote a bunch of books, but never had two come out in the same year. So they can keep their fancy gold records and presidential elections. Because I'm going to spend this year basking in my glory and eating frosting straight out of the can.

There are two types of people in this world. One is the sensible, rational type. They set realistic, achievable goals: grow up, get a job you like and are good at, meet someone awesome, get married and have two awesome children. My sister is one of these people. So is my sister-in-law.

The other type knows maybe what they want, which may or may not be sensible and/or achievable, and comes up with wild, perhaps unrealistic, ways to achieve those dreams. That’s probably me.

When I was a kid, I read a lot, played with the farm cats a lot, and I had the obnoxious tendency to correct other people’s grammar. But I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up: a writer.

That’s not entirely accurate. I wanted to be a writer and Wonder Woman. But when I found out that the job of Wonder Woman was already taken by Lynda Carter, I settled for just writer. So how did I decide to go about attaining that goal? Let’s take a look:

Idea #1:  Move to an isolated island where I can write all day.

Hahahaha! The naiveté dripping off of that sentence still cracks me up. After college, I moved to Block Island in an effort to be one of those reclusive writers that sits on the beach all day and writes about the waves and crap. Did it work? Ha! Here’s the thing: it is expensive to live on a resort island year-round. Bills need to be paid. I indulged my dreams of writing by churning out a weekly column for the local paper, but I worked full time for the town, took on bookkeeping jobs to keep the lights on, and was surprised when the publisher of the newspaper asked me if I’d moonlight as a proofreader. Hmm. That obnoxious “let me correct your grammar” thing had gotten me a side job. But none of these things really gave me time to write. It was time to move back to the mainland.

Idea #2: Open a bookstore so I can read and write all day.

Sounds perfect, right? In an era where independent and chain bookstores were failing every day, why not open a bookstore? I loved it. And I hated it. I was writing sporadically, reading even less, and I was doing things like reconciling accounts payable and receivable, doing taxes, and talking to customers all day. And, of course, correcting their grammar in my head. The business, and my writing, suffered.

Idea #3: Get a day job I like and am good at to support my writing habit.

Those sensible people of the world with realistic goals might be on to something. I’d worked in human resources in the past, but although I was good at it, I didn’t enjoy it. So what to do? What was I qualified to do that I could stand doing? And then one little line jumped out at me on my résumé--Proofreader, The Block Island Times.

Could I parlay that into a job I liked? Was it possible that someone would actually pay me to correct their grammar? The answer, I am happy to report, is yes.

To all of you aspiring authors out there, I recommend this: Sure, you can try the crazy stuff, like moving to an island or opening a bookstore. But if you want to write, find a day job you love. Mostly because it makes it a lot easier at night when you sit down at your computer if the power is still on, plus, you won’t be ready to jump off a bridge due to said day job. Maybe that job is in customer service, because you like people. Maybe it’s as a medical billing specialist, because you don’t like people. Or, if you’re like me, maybe you can take one of your most obnoxious personality quirks and turn it into a paycheck. Because I can tell you this: I am a writer and I am a copy editor.  No matter if I’m working as one or the other, I love what I’m doing. And sometimes, I even wear my Wonder Woman tiara while doing it.

I like to think that we never stop learning. I try to find life lessons in everything I see, read, or hear, and then pass on that wisdom like I came up with it myself. There is much to be learned from everything around us. For example, the movie Jurassic Park taught me a lot about life. (For you purists out there, yes, the book was better, and yes, it was different—don’t get on my case about how the kids’ roles were changed in the film. I’m working with what I think more people are familiar with here.) Anyway, here goes:

1.  If you want a job done right, send a woman to do it.

First of all, the dinosaurs at Jurassic Park were all born female. And I think we all can agree that the dinos were running the show in this flick.

Secondly, it was Dr. Ellie Sattler who rolled up her sleeves and dug into the dinosaur dung to solve the mystery of the sick triceratops. I didn’t see any of the men around her offering to help. Also, it was Ellie who dodged velociraptors in the maintenance shed to get the power primed to come back on. (Arguably, I can see why they sent Samuel L. Jackson first—I would think nobody, not even carnivorous death dinos, would want to mess with him, but those raptors were apparently even tougher than Samuel L. himself.) Impressive. Send in the woman!

Finally, it was teenaged Alexis ("Lex") Murphy who hacked the computers in the park and got things running again, and Lex who trapped the raptor in the walk-in freezer. Honestly, I don’t know what you guys would do without us.

2.  It’s fun to scare kids.

One of the most memorable scenes in Jurassic Park is when Lex and Tim are pigging out, and Lex’s spoonful of Jell-o starts shaking. Why? Because she’s scared out of her wits, which is hilarious.

Hee hee! And remember that kid from Nightmare on Elm Street V who was at Dr. Grant’s dig site? And Dr. Grant scared the poop out of him with that velociraptor claw? Priceless!

Also a good indication as to why I shouldn’t have kids.

3.  There will always be someone bigger or smarter than you. Just be yourself.

Sure, sometimes it’s nice to get a compliment like “clever girl” from the game warden right before you eat him, but we can’t all be at the top of the food chain. There will always be someone bigger than you, smarter than you, or more willing to spontaneously change genders to ensure the survival of the species than you. Don’t worry about them. Just be you.

Do you think the dilophosaurus was worrying about what the T. rex was doing or what the velociraptors were plotting as she went about her business? Heck, no. She just let her freak frills fly and slung poisonous phlegm like only she could do. And at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered.

4.  It’s okay to say no.

You don’t need to be a doormat to get people to like you. There will be times in your life when people will ask you to do things that you really don’t want to do. It’s okay to say no. The world will not end. And you’ll feel better for it. In the words of Dr. Alan Grant: “Mr. Hammond, after careful consideration, I’ve decided not to endorse your park.” And you know what? Mr. Hammond was okay with that.

5.  Things always work out in the end.

I know that life is hard. I have had many, many days in which it felt like the velociraptors had me trapped in the lobby of the visitors’ center, ready to serve me up for Sunday brunch. Did I give up? (Admittedly, yes, sometimes. There are days when I don’t even get out of bed.)  The point is, we shouldn’t give up. Whether you believe it’s God, or the universe, or karma, just when things look as bad as they possibly could, a giant T. rex will show up to snack on the velociraptors of life. (It’s a figure of speech. Just roll with it, okay?) It’s hard to keep the faith, I know. But when I’m really feeling down, I like to imagine that some well-fed T. rex somewhere is using the bones of my enemies as toothpicks.

There you have it: important life lessons, brought to you by Michael Crichton, Steven Spielberg, and me. Now go on out there and let your freak frill fly!

Usually at the beginning of a new year, I like to make resolutions I have no intention of keeping. This year, however, will be different. You see, I'm making 2015 all about me. I think everyone should do this. (Make 2015 all about you. Though if you feel like making 2015 all about Stacey, I'm not going to try to dissuade you.) Here's what I'm planning on doing in the new year:

1. Stopping the Facebook Crap. I'm tired of your stupid quizzes, Facebook. I do not need to know what Disney villain I am, or what crime I committed in a former life, or what famous writer should write the story of my life. I don't care. None of these things affect my life in any meaningful sense.
I'm also going to start actively hiding people from my feed who take too many selfies. I actually had a Facebook friend who posted selfies showcasing her butt yesterday. I. Don't. Care. About. Your. Heinie. Just stop.
Ditto politically outraged friends, friends with newborns, friends with new puppies, and newlyweds. I'm hiding all of you in 2015. Facebook is cluttering up my life, and making me like people that I used to be fond of a LOT less. 

2. Learning New Skills. 2014 started out, for me, as the poorest I've ever been in my entire life. Because of this, I had to learn some new skills, pronto. While I've let my Ramen noodle recipes fall by the wayside since then, I still make homemade laundry detergent and fry my own potato chips. Handy skills. I want to learn more cool and useful stuff like this. But not, I repeat, not, if I have to be that poor again.

3. Finding More Alone Time. Don't get me wrong--I'll still make time for my family and friends. But I'm the kind of person who needs time to herself to be happy. I've been forgoing this much-needed alone time to make other people (like Jason) happy. And I'll admit, it's made me pretty cranky and miserable, and in turn, makes the people around me miserable. But you know who is ultimately responsible for making sure I'm happy? Me. So I'm going to carve out more time in 2015 to be by myself, and I think it'll make everyone a little happier.

4. Eating more bacon. Let's face it: everything we eat is bad for us. However, studies conducted (by me) show eating bacon, while bad for the arteries, is actually good for the soul. Bring it on.

5. No longer apologizing for who I am. For example, I totally geek out when I meet former WWE wrestlers from the 80s and 90s. Seriously, it's embarrassing how excited I get. Some of my friends make fun of me for this. You know what? If my excitement over meeting Hacksaw Jim Duggan seems dorky to you, what does it matter? I'm happy. So you can shut up. I'm done apologizing for my fascination with Stone Cold Steve Austin. And while I'm at it, I drink four cups of coffee a day, I'm constantly correcting your grammar in my head, and I thought the movie Ted was hilarious. I know a lot of useless trivia about serial killers and the Kennedy family. I'm terrible with directions. And I'm not apologizing for any of these things any more.

There you have it. I'm keeping the list to five things this year, because the thing about resolutions is that they need to be achievable and not overwhelming. I already started on this list today: I hid the Butt Selfie-Taker from my feed, and "liked" Stone Cold's Facebook page. (That's right, I'll say it: he is smokin' hot.) Here's what I know: I'm going to try to start thinking about things that make me, and not everyone else around me, happy. Because really, that's what all of these resolutions boil down to. I hope for your sake that you, too, resolve to be more selfish in 2015. And eat more bacon.

Happy New Year!