Is this good? Is it bad?
Juan Martinez…posing with the public outside the court room in which he’s prosecuting Jodi Arias…
Covert operatives writing books…
Punks and the uncouth having hit shows…
Pushing the limits of baring as much skin as possible and body grinding each other and creating “dance porn” all under the guise of “art” and dancing with stars…
And writers having to be social media gods and goddesses (and do such all-creating deities really require gender differentiation?).
This need for publicity. This need to be famous.
Perhaps oversimplified, but I find it funny how so many seek to be famous. To be famous strips away your privacy. Turns you into a public figure, ripe to be vilified, held up to public display and scrutiny—and not usually in a good way.
I frequently think back to the “old days,” and by “old” I don’t just mean before smartphones, but back in, say, medieval times. Did both knights and peasants dream about creating hit songs and getting a “contract” with the king or queen’s courts? Did they deify court jesters and troubadours, wishing they could be like them and get troubadour groupies?
Now, arguably, one could say, “Hey, writer! What-the-hell back atya!”
Yeah, you could. But I say that, personally, I’d be great with publishing my work and not having my face anywhere on the cover. Not having to make TV appearances or tweet my zit-poppin’ and ass-wipin’ (though, okay, I love a one-liner or two, so Twitter is kinda cool like that…).
Writing blog posts?
That’s writing. Communicating. It’s an extension of the art form—for me. I know others out there post for their own reasons, but for me, I do it for the love of writing, it’s immediate, and I don’t have to wait for anyone to approve or disapprove it, buy it, or edit the heck out of it. I love writing. Period.
Advancements in life can be a good thing, I’m far from prudish, but have to admit I can remember being unleashed from any form of contact and being alone up in the woods, behind my house. Clearing brush, climbing trees, or just walking through the acres and acres of unspoiled forest and listening to nature. Can remember the concept of not having any of this hyper-connection. Granted, it’s a small world, there’s lots of good that comes with advancements, but what also comes along with it all is increased stress, little rest, and, yes, a kind of “fame among friends,” kinda thing (“Oh, I’m important enough to be getting a text! Must answer now….”).
Is it a good thing—a bad thing? A necessary evil of our time?
And why do so many long for it? To be famous? Why the hell—and do you really understand the long-term ramifications? Are you so disaffected with your life you feel the only way out is to have everyone in the world poke their noses into yours? Is there some other reason? Sure, some are born to entertain, no problem there, and I’m not talking about righting wrongs, setting records straight, I’m talking about just wanting pure, unadulterated fame…in and of itself, doesn’t matter in what or why. What is this all-pervading need I’m seeing?
That’s all I got. Thanks for stopping by.