In Praise Of Anonymity
anonymous
not anonymous
I didn’t start out wanting to be anonymous, but as I get older and realize it’s my future, I am beginning to realize that it has some distinct advantages.
Take Angelina Jolie. An illuminating article in today’s New York Times outlines what she does to burnish her public image. Read the article if you want the details, but wow, it sounds like hard work. All those phone calls, negotiations, and machinations, just to ensure that the public think you’re fabulous. And to what end? Why does it matter what the public think of you unless you’re running for office? Is it so important to be loved by autograph hunters and part-time paparazzi? The answer has to be no. And yet people like Jolie work hard to perfect the art of publicity.
The reason is simple. Fame is a drug. Once you have it, you can’t get enough of it, and dread the idea that it’s taken away from you. Being a celebrity is a like being transformed into a human painted egg, with the yolk and white sucked out. Pretty on the outside, empty on the inside, and very, very fragile.
I wonder if Angelina Jolie ever wishes she were anonymous too.
