We Deserve A Better Class Of Celebrity

People are always talking about the meaning of the word ‘celebrity’. Famous people frequently try to distance themselves from the word for fear of sounding pretentious, although I think that is sometimes a little ironic. It is often defined as somebody who is celebrated, as is the origin of the word. But I think in today’s society of pop culture, fame and glamour, naming somebody as a celebrity is seen as a label of falsity and vanity. The easiest place to find so-called celebrities is in cheap magazines which expose the shameful sins of any public figure who dares to eat a dessert. In short, calling yourself a celebrity has become a bit of a taboo.

A taboo which I oppose, because I don’t think there is anything wrong with being a celebrity. Admittedly I don’t think some people should fit into that category (the latest I’m A Celebrity lineup were hardly thriving figures) but I’m not trying to completely redefine the word. I’m simply trying to reclassify it. People like Katie Price and Paris Hilton are commonplace examples of undeserved fame, with which I agree. They shouldn’t be celebrities, but nevertheless, they are; whether we like it or not other people have an interest in them and this is the foundation on which I base my point. Being a celebrity means other people want a glimpse of what it’s like to be you. They have an unquenchable thirst for personal information satisfied, temporarily, only by words and pictures and videos and any form of media they can get their sense organs around. It doesn’t end here either: the details must be more revealing every time. Once we know their full birth name, we want their relatives’ names, their pets, their hobbies, their cars, their addresses. It’s a never-ending spiral of pure, shameless self-gratification fueled by blatant espionage. We love it. And they must love it too, or why would they enter the public eye? Everybody knows the cost – your private life, and everybody knows the rewards to be reaped – fame and money.

So the conclusion to be drawn from all this is that being a celebrity is not a bad thing. The deal is clear. And in fact, I believe rather than opposing this culture, we should expand and develop it. Allow a broader spectrum of influential, likeable figures to be a part of our daily lives. Why? Not for glorification, but for everybody’s benefit. Because I think the world deserves a better class of celebrity.

The Tragedy of an Oxymoron

I am a shy attention seeker. This is something I have come to realise recently and wish to do something about. But first, the background:

I have always been the quiet one. The one who stands in corners, doesn’t raise his hand. The introvert. When I was younger I used to say ‘mm’ and ‘mhm’ instead of yes and no; I would mumble words in the presence of adults. I grew out of that, but never quite got over the fear of speaking to strangers. I still get nervous when asking for things in shops and am infamous for not answering the phone. I guess some of this is a little unusual, but I             manage to get by in the world despite my differences. Except that this is not enough for me anymore.

I have also always been quite talented: I was the arty one, the musical one, the clever one. At an early age I enjoyed this and spent many hours doing extra things for which I was praised. But the older I got, the less special I became. Others surpassed me in and out of the classroom; I became lazier. Eventually I pretty much gave up trying to advance in the arts, resigned to my fate as a jack of all trades. I stuck with the education for mainly legal obligations. But the spirit never died in me.

More recently, I have been feeling particularly creative inside. I have had many ideas and even some forms of inspiration. Despite this, I have as of yet failed to create. My fruits did not flower or flourish; my wishful works wilted. I seem unable to substantiate my creative energies in any form other than mere thoughts. Doubt I did not, however, as I know the power of a metaphorical seed sewn in the minds of others. Words are my weapon.

Which brings us back to the present in the chronology of my narration. The here and now. The what and why, and the how. I want to put myself across, I want to share my thoughts with others and have feelings and beliefs reciprocated. But I am too shy. I am not willing to draw the necessary attention of others in the right form. So I hide behind words on a screen, hoping they might one day catch the eye of somebody willing to break that barrier and let me out of my bubble into the real world.