Almost Famous

There is a small part of me that has always wanted to be famous. When I was little, I decided I would become a famous country music singer. I have an uncanny ability to turn any song country.  My sisters were my singing coaches, making me sing Tammy Wynette's, “Stand by your Man” over and over again. Random choice for a small child, but I have always been fiercely loyal, one of those ride or die chicks. My country music dreams crashed when I finally realized that I hate performing, have no rhythm, and only have an average body. With a knock out body and mediocre talent I could have gone a long way!

In recent years, my desire for fame has manifested in dreams of converting and marrying Bruno Mars or becoming Russell Wilson’s second wife.  Since these goals seem to be taking a little longer to achieve than I had hoped, I am forced to focus on more realistic opportunities, like becoming popular in my own sphere of influence.  When I lived in Mississippi, I got so popular that there wasn’t a coffee shop in my town that I could actually study in without being bombarded by the masses, and I bet if they built a 3^rd coffee shop, I would eventually become just as equally renown.  I was, in my not-so-humble opinion, a big deal.

"I would like to announce my engagement to the love of my life, Brittany"

This past weekend, I returned to visit my town in Mississippi, after 7 months of living in a different state. I expected, of course, to be greeted by a parade, it was shocking to find the town filled with faces I had never seen before. It is a college town, but I assumed that the legend of Brittany would have reached the new students and staff by now.  Surely I had not invested years of my life only to be forgotten in a few months.   Despite visiting with a dozen close friends, it hit me that I am no longer as popular or as famous as I once considered myself, and, by many, I was easily forgotten. 

If I was actually famous, like Michael Jackson, it would have taken a LOT more than a few months to forget me, but I still wouldn’t be able to maintain the benefits of my fame, no one can, regardless of how influential their lives were/are.  It’s not like Nietzsche can appreciate you quoting him in your attempt to appear philosophically cool, because Nietzsche is dead. Ask teenagers to name the King of Rock and Roll, and you’ll be shocked by the result.  Yes, the King of Rock and Roll changed music, his influence has shaped history, but his fame has weakened over time and cultures. As blasphemous as it seems right now, so too, will be the fate of the King of Pop. Fame seems such a silly pursuit for the mortal, for, “All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever” (1 Peter 1:24-25).  When the world ends no one will be speaking my name, but when the world ends ever knee will bow at His.  It seems to make more sense to spend my days making His name famous, and stop wasting time trying to make you remember mine.