Fame, ants and me

I agree. A strange headline up there. Sorry about that. But hey, it’s just me, what could you expect anyways.

Right. Guess what. I have been thinking. Again. While the annoyingly arrogant muse of mine has been “unavailable”, I must have resigned myself to thinking instead of writing. And oh, I’m so close to the end by now. Frustrating.

I have been thinking about fame. And ants, apparently. About that how does it change a person, or does it? There are many people who wants to be famous and are willing to do anything to obtain it. The fame must be fun, right? I think, though, that there might be something hidden in it, as well. I mean, it can’t be that sparkly, glamorous thing all the time. And I know, it isn’t. But thinking about the fame. It’s not easily attained, but once attained quite impossible to cast aside. I wonder if any celebrities wish that they would not been famous.

I think it’s in the human nature to want always the thing you can’t have. The grass is always greener on the other side, you know. I think that’s my problem, as well. I can’t settle down and accept the way things are at the moment, but I wish them to be different. I’ve started to suspect that I might not be any happier if the things were different, if they were as I dream them to be. It’s not fun, you know, realize things about yourself that you don’t want to realize.

Right. Back to the fame. A celebrity has a group of fans, as expected. Some have larger group, some smaller. I wonder how do they relate to their fans. What do they think about them? Their neverending admiration, screaming, crying, the pathetic attempt to make connection, to make the famous one to fall for the average one. I’ll bet they feel frustrated at times. I know I would.

While playing with my daughter in the sandbox I watched the ants rumbling by (um, not a good word, agree, let’s see… would “scuttling” be any better?), bustling with their own Very Important Things that I wouldn’t care less. I watched them and started to think that not a one of those ants was any different to me at all. How would I have known if one of them was trying to catch my attention? I wouldn’t have. There was so plenty of them. It would have required just about a miracle for me to even pay attention one of them particularly. I wondered if that was the way the celebrities feel about their fans.

I imagined a speech bubble over every ants head and felt mesmerized suddenly. There would have been a whole lot speech bubbles around! I felt symphaty for celebrities. It must be – or how would I know, but I guess – hard sometimes for them, I mean, for knowing how much every ant (sorry, a fan) would like to make a statement, to be seen, and one can only do so much. You just can’t have a personal connection with everyone. Can not.

I’m pretty good in imaging things. I should be, anyways, writer as I am. But also in my life. Feeling strange connections, observing things that can’t be observed, have this feeling of … inevitable accounters. Um. Can’t describe it. Destiny? And all over again I need to adjust my great and strong feelings. Why? Because they are all imagination, that’s why! That is frustrating. How can I be so misleading to myself? Why I do believe when I really shouldn’t? (um. straying again. I know. sorry)

The point I was trying to make was: I have sometimes imagined myself to feel this mystical connection some celebrity. Yeah. It’s admiration. I know. By now. And still. I do feel it sometimes. It just sticked out to me when one of my priviledged fame-guys (= to whom *I* do feel connection to) tweeted that he feels oddly connected to each and everyone of his followers. Oh, yeah.

Should I have been happy? Well, I wasn’t. Why? Because that’s not true. It’s some kind of a comfort for the naive ones, right? Or should that be understood as a gesture of a good will? In a way, yes, yes, I do understand the point. But I can’t agree with it. The famous one can’t know any of his/her fans as closely as every fan of his/her knows him/her. That is the truth. A clarificational remark: I do not say that the fans know the real person, they can’t. It’s all an idealized image they know. But they do know that image.

Who am I to some celebrity? Nuisance? Nobody? Face in the crowd, hardly visible? I don’t mean a fan in a universal level, but me. Uh.

Sometimes I wish I could be seen. You know. I thought about this a long time ago. I thought that maybe a personality shifts anew when seeing different people (yes, celebrities do count as a human beings as well). I felt it wasn’t rightly said and the thought bounced back at me: it effects us by whom we are seen. Do you follow? When there’s a real connection it can not be without leaving some mark on both of the connected ones. I think that we define ourselves through our relationships. Do you agree? Somehow reflecting ourselves from the others. Learning to know myself by knowing others? Do I make any sense?

Propably not. As usual. And we started from the ants. Oh my.

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