1/29/2014
Preferential treatment

Ever since Lau got an essay of hers published in the Inquirer's Young Blood column, I've been having a good think about what I should write about, and how I should write it.

Obviously I haven't made any progress. It's been six years since that happened. (Six years! Matanda na tayo, 'nay!) The only things I have decided on is a Rachel Berry quote in the beginning - I thought of this back when I assumed that Glee would be a cult favorite rather than a viral phenomenon - and a very basic, very general theme: fame.

As to what's in it, well, I've never really thought about it. I've had a few thoughts here and there, but they never really develop into something, because life gets in the way, or at least my blog entries about it do. I've written a lot of good blog entries since, I think, but not the blog entry that will appear on print.

So. Fame. Those thoughts. What if I was famous?

If I was famous, I'd get a lot of attention. Specifically, I'd get unwavering devotion from a hopefully huge number of people, people who don't know me, but love me anyway because... because what, really? It must feel nice to know that, even if things are going terribly wrong and you feel alone and lonely, there will always be a bunch of strangers who will love you no matter what. Their blind approval is enough.

If I was famous, I'd get a lot of free things. What those things are will depend on which audience I've unwittingly gathered: I might get Bruno Mars concert tickets, or I might get Regine Velasquez. I might get a free cheesecake from one of those restaurants at Bonifacio High Street, or I might get a sundae cone refill at Jollibee. Whatever. I will get preferential treatment, because I am famous, and you know what non-famous do when they're around famous people.

Sure, all this is not fair, ultimately. Being famous means being hated, and there will definitely be people who hate me because... because what, really? It will bother me, but I will act as if I'm not bothered. You know, "haters will hate" and all that. Again, a bunch of strangers. Blind approval. And a bunch of strangers. Blind hatred. Or maybe not blind hatred, because they will always have reasons to hate me. And if they try hard enough, they will find a way to know where I live and where I go. They will know what I eat for breakfast and which part of my body I scrub first when I take a shower. And they will use all that against me.

If I was famous, I'd get hurt, bad. Someone will succeed and get me in a position so scary I would want to be anonymous again.

But no. I am famous. And famous people get preferential treatment. When famous people get beat up, every law enforcement agency will investigate the case. Every law enforcement agency will investigate the case quickly, definitively, conclusively. Every friend, enemy and frenemy will have messages of support. Every breathing moment, at least for a couple of weeks or twice that, will be about you, you, you. Blind devotion. Isn't that what you want to happen?

Of course if you're the one who does something foolish, every law enforcement agency will want you behind bars. But again, quickly, definitively, conclusively. But yeah, ultimately, that is why I should be famous. The system works for famous people. It's some twisted way to motivate us to reach our potential. Get there, and the system will finally work for you. Makes sense.

And your responses...

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