Who are all the famous people and how come I don’t know they’re famous?  I check the news online and I read headlines about so-and-so and so-and-so-so, and I find myself scratching my head wondering where they came from and what they’re known for…so I use Wikipedia (don’t judge…you use wikipedia, too) or Google and I am informed of their claim to fame.  Usually it amounts to “not much.”

Which leads me to this:  I am SO glad I’m absolutely anonymous.  I’ve googled myself (and so have you) and I come up with very little…a quote from a news article many years ago, a mention in a classmates list for a school reunion, and that’s about it.  I am virtually unknown; the only people that know me are the people who have actually been acquainted with me!  There are no pictures of me anywhere, and even if they came up with one, the worst thing it would show is me eating a burger or doing something genuinely silly…

I sometimes wonder what it would feel like to be the sort of person who is met by cameras when they step out of their house.  I wonder more often about why anyone would want to be the sort of person who is met by cameras when they step out of their house.  Why would anyone want to live in a fishbowl?  Why would anyone want to share every minuscule (and that’s often what they are) thought?  Why would people want to reveal EVERYTHING there is to reveal about them?

There are things that are just too private, too personal, and yet you see headlines about them everywhere.  There is no sorrow so deep that we won’t see it plastered on headlines, blurbs, and so forth…  Why do we do this?  Why do we not only relish other people’s bad news and follies, but we feel we have to be the sort of person who shares it all?

So…this is another thing I had to do to get here: I had to learn that my sorrow is mine, and I can share it, but not display it.  I don’t know if that works for everyone, but it works for me.  There are things that you will notice about me if you ever meet me, and I won’t have to tell you about them because they are perceptible to the naked eye.  There are things you will have to discover through hard work and interaction, through the awkward process of getting to know me.

I don’t want to, in my own minor way, become the type of individual that is preceded by headlines.  “Oh, here comes the girl that….” or “didn’t she have her ______ stolen by ______?” or “Yeah, yeah…she slept with so-and-so and had a baby with this other guy…”  None of these things have happened to me, of course, but they have happened in headlines everywhere.  We have turned ourselves into goldfish, and then we try to reel ourselves back in when we realize the world has taken ownership of our privacy…

There’s a big difference between being “entertaining” from time to time and turning yourself into “the entertainment.”

On to the next thing…

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