I follow celebrities. Not in person, and not to the point of flipping through Us Weekly, People, et al, but I pay attention. I realized that I’m not taken by the luxury or humility, so I think I stick with it for the stories. Celebrities are special because they’re characters that life’s stories are built around in bursts, as opposed to most of us with our 15-minute-long moments in the spotlight. We catch up with them in these brief flashes of attention, a day under Facebook’s trending topics list, but isn’t that unfair? The people we actually know, our friends: to us their stories are their lives, from day one to day done. That’s how we read them. With celebs, we only get these emotional snatches of narrative, devoid of what came before or after (give or take a year’s buffer). It’s pretty simple to say “we think we know them but we don’t!” so I want to move a step further and say “we think we care but we don’t.”
We– hell, I pretend at caring about them, and I don’t even recognize that it’s pretend. That’s why this two year old article from The Onion, dug up by Gawker in response to the recent allegations against Honey Boo Boo’s Mama June, hit me special. I look at this kid, and all famous kids, and celebs as if they’re highlight reels because that’s how I encounter them, flashing by my face with updates about the now, my impression stripped of anything “unmemorable” in their past and happily ignorant of what’s to come.
Because why would I worry about Alanna’s future? I don’t know her. I’ve just seen her around.