Thursday, 26th June '08

If I Wasn't a Celebrity

So I told myself: once in a while, just once in a while, I'd like to write something on this blog that doesn't come from anger. I don't know if you've noticed lately (what with the blog going a bit to seed, and it's readership waning correspondingly), but almost everything I've written recently has been somewhat motivated by ANGER.

Sad, but true.

Fact is, I quite enjoy my anger and angst - and here's Tzo's cue to shake her head wearily - and I do believe the intensity of that sort of emotion brings out creativity. Think about it; you're happy and bouncy and living amongst clouds like you were a Care Bear in Caralot. Are you really going to sit down and think of words to describe how happy you are? Not likely. More likely you're going to go and celebrate that happiness in person.

So being angry? That's a different story. A story that's usually told in creative writing.

Now. With that long digression (around the opening of the third paragraph I decided stopping it was a hopeless endeavour), I'd like to share a little musing I had on the MRT a couple of days ago. In a bid to make this an authentic experience as possible, I also include here the music that was playing on my iPod as the musing hit me.

Just push play.

Why, you ask, was I listening to Blake Shelton? Who is Blake Shelton anyway, I hear you cry. And why in the world does the song have a gosh-awful name like "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off". I offer you no good answer to that.

Now that we've set the audio scene, the visual scene. On one side of the MRT cabin is a picture of Lukas Podolski teaching some little kids in some part of the Eastern European world to play. On the opposite side is Kaka with some pre-pubescent in San Marino. Which set me thinking about someone once thinking he was cute, to which Dage I believe brought the crushing news that he was married, which next brought me to the realisation that a lot of soccer stars marry pretty young, which next lead to... WHY.

Is it easier for someone rich and famous at a young age to get married? Kind of rhetorical question, that. Aside from the question of whether one would WANT to, the capability of the person is almost a sure thing. Rooney's a hairy ape and he's getting married. Something about money and celebrity that makes one instantly desirable.

N*sync clearly had that impression. "If I wasn't a celebrity, would you be so nice to me?", Justin Timberlake raps huskily. They're in good company, as I'm sure there're a million rock/pop/hip hop stars waxing lyrical about the trappings of fame and various significant others never being able to see beyond their fortune and fame.

The point that occurred to me was this: at the root of all this "why don't you love me for me" griping, lies a fundamental assumption that fame and fortune stuff is NOT inherently a part of the possessor. Let me explain further.

The most commonplace extension of the "why don't you love me for me" whine is the "what would you do if one day I become fat/bald/old/ugly/broke/washedoutrockstar/insertvariousothercharacteristicofloserdom" ultimatum. The assumption is that fame and fortune are transient, and if that is sole what the golddigger spouse (or WAG, as the case may be) is after, then it's hasta lasagna.

I'm sure the reasoning traps a good many celebrity spouses, even if they don't all manifest as obviously as the ex-Mrs McCartney.

But I think the common person conflates the two inquiries a little too easily. Because I don't actually believe that fame and fortune are separable from the real you at all. You can't change history, which is as important as the present, if you ask me - at least insofar as it comes to people. You can't take David Beckham the man and the footballer and try to say they're not the same person. When a passion and love for something is so much that one takes it for a career and a lifestyle, it becomes a part of who he is. It's that drive to succeed in that field, the actual capability to make it happen and the way one copes with achieving the dream that is attractive. It appears too shortsighted to say, would you love David Beckham without the football? Without the football there IS no David Beckham.

So even come the fateful day when DB plays no more football. So what of it. He ONCE did. It's a part of his history. It's the same as a retired schoolteacher, a retired lawyer, a retired used car salesman. It doesn't go away just because one stops doing it. Again, it is what he is.

Hmm. Now where's MY rockstar?

en ying snapped a shot of life @ 10:22 pm
[2 photographs developed.]