21 21 21 Great Blogs to Read a New Zealand blogger has given my blog a review.
If you assume everyone who has a blog wants (in some way or degree) to be famous… that’s a LOT of people around the world who want to be famous. Or do we all just really want to find someone who will faithfully listen to us, like a great fan.
I would like to be famous. Not for something stupid or horrible like a murderer or someone who rips off a bank and is caught cause I asked them to transfer it all to my account before I left the scene. I’d like to be famous for some kind of good, positive and optimistic reason. I can be the woman who has that great blog, the one you actually enjoy reading and remember to come and check more than once a year or when something else jogs your memory to remember that I actually exist.
It’s sad how we don’t want to be just another one of the unknowns. Yet, the unknowns are important and we really, truly need the unknowns to know us. How can you be famous if everyone is famous. There have to be a bunch of the great unknowns who bother to make us famous.
It’s funny, but I don’t want to be popular, just famous.
Being popular seems to be about snobbery, being part of some clique/ group who look down on all others in order to feel they are all something better. That really peeves me, that kind of attitude. So, I don’t want to be popular. I want to be famous and yet unpopular. I can be that famous woman everyone thinks they are the only person to have discovered. I will always be the new thing. That way I can always be fresh.
Not fresh in the way of being slutty. Though, I’d do that too. It could be fun. If I was feeling pretty one day and walking along and saw a nice looking guy in a suit… I wouldn’t put it too far past me to give him a pat, a little brush against him on the street. Something like that. Being fresh isn’t all bad. If you’re nice about it. You can go too far and cross the line into being obnoxious. Don’t invade someone’s personal space too much at a time. Even better if you can be mysteriously fresh. Just give that nice looking guy a pat while you’re in a crowd and he won’t ever know who did it, unless you grin and make sure he is suspicious.
Anyway, I was thinking about how many people are blogging and how many of them seem to feel it’s important to have readers, to become popular and be part of various other sites and groups. It’s like we are all digitally socializing. No more messy face to fact meetings, like a blind date. Now you can enjoy your social circle of friends and acquaintances without every leaving your computer. Glue yourself down into your chair, make your own coffee and put on whatever cyber face you like for that day. No fuss, no muss, just go ahead and be interpersonal.
Are we going to end up like some weird science fiction experiment in human behaviour? When was the last time you met someone new? Was it virtual or out in the real world? What happens when people begin to avoid even the virtual world? What happens if someone shrinks their world down to the size of a peanut and they no longer go outside into the real world and no longer dare to step into the cyber world either? That would be a true hermit. I expect they would just have to die out or invent some kind of time machine so they could send themselves backwards or forwards in time to a place where there are no other humans. Perhaps somewhere after we have blown ourselves up or suffocated with our own pollution and such. No doubt there will be an end to humans eventually. It would be kind of ironic if that hermit wasn’t the only one to do the same thing. What if everyone got hermitized and they all sent themselves ahead in time? Suddenly everyone would be back, together on the planet even after the human race had officially annilhated themselves.
It would be interesting. I doubt I will be there. I still smile at people on the street. It’s more likely I will be picked up by some mass killer and stuffed into a shallow grave. I won’t be there with the hermits at the end of time. Well, time as counted by humans. I don’t think the planet itself really counts time at all. It’s been around too long to want to think about how many birthdays it’s had.