Read an interesting post by Stoya about, from what I could gather, idolatry. Based on some of Stoya’s recent posts, and I’m probably reading into them more than is warranted, she’s seems to be doing a lot of introspection, looking within herself and where she’s possibly going. But, again, I could just be reading into that. She’s in her early thirties, I think, so that kind of makes sense to be in that mindset. That’s when people start wondering what happened to their twenties and where they’re going in the future.

She also talks a bit about being semi-famous, or, as she terms it, micro-celebrity. I can only guess, but it must be nerve-racking having complete strangers come up to like they know you. I know I wouldn’t be able to handle it; I’d end up in jail for punching someone out that came at me that way. To be honest, I don’t comprehend the mindset of thinking it’s socially acceptable to run up to a complete stranger, give them a hug, put their arm around them and take a selfie with, all because they’re famous; at least in certain circles and, or, geographic locations.

I know if I happen to be within the same vicinity of someone like Stoya, I would do everything in my power to avoid her. Not in the sense that I would turn my head in the opposite direction with my hand obfuscating my vision like a horse with blinders on. No. But I wouldn’t get all stupid and go all fanboy on her either. And I certainly wouldn’t be presumptuous enough to think I could get a picture with her, let alone even talk to her. At most, I would probably just nod at her as I walked by and continue on my way (and maybe reflect later that I recognized someone famous, which I never have; to be fair, I don’t get out much either). And I’m certain Stoya would be okay, hell, downright relieved by that if she saw someone like me (a 6-foot 4-inch, in shape [not the shape of a pear] man with a permanent, Neanderthal-ish scowl from reading too much and staring at computer screens writing code in the dark) walking in her general direction.

If, however, she were to acknowledge my presence, I would of course engage with her as I would with any stranger; and, most importantly, treat her respect and as a human being, not an object that some people of lesser intelligence and grace see her as.

My prose isn’t as elegant as hers, so, if she should happen to read this excrement (which I seriously doubt, she has much better things to do; root-canal or something), I apologize.

And that’s all I have to say about that.


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Don't hold back, tell me how you really feel