The thirst for the big scene boils in my soul and I can’t seem to find myself. Sounds strange! This guy wants to be at the center of all the big noise. Here we go, lets permit reason to mate reality. Oh-oh, I am in battle with myself. I am seriously yoked with validation syndrome. I want to be seen busy, feel accepted and complimented always. Seriously I want my ego to be fed, and what are you laughing about?

A Star comes to Town
A music star comes to town. Now I am talking to myself, yes my very self, what values do I extol as a person? Somewhat at the very least, I am not a zero-value being. Let’s jump the gun as I reconfigure this in my mind. I assume media, record labels, paparazzi, sponsors, ranters will want to profit from anything that will enhance their monetary quotient, even if my madness pays a higher prime. Well, that is not all golden true, someone can be as darling as Celine Dion or kosher as Andrea Bocelli, yet without living the life of endangered celeb-species we have come to know in recent times. Drop the popular secret: it is the odd lives that makes business for tabloids such as Ok! , People, Lifestyles, Star, US Entertainment or Weekly.

This guy is messed up, he just wants some cheap publicity. Are you a learner? Don’t you know that it is oddities or grim news that travels faster? Who wants to hear how sweet of a gentleman you are, or talk to me if you won’t buy a tabloid that exposes all Obama mistresses? Buddy will you relax, you’d better visit other planets while you entertain your delirious ideologies. If you want to be them, be them. Point blank!

I want to be on world stage. If I got it, does anybody want to live for what is right anymore, don’t anybody want to fight for what is right, bless Mandela. And I say to myself, you can be famous and yet does not necessarily make me a celeb, George Zimmerman meets both opposite equations. Famous for an unjust cause and applaud by media as celeb worth same platform with DMX. Amanda Knox is excused, unfortunate, yet famous. As misery will serve her full course rain-check, she is still pursuing the trajectory of a comatose apocalypse.

Easy goes Queen
So easy to say, if I get a fire shot on Queen Elizabeth, I become trolled by media world over. That is being famous, it won’t matter for what cause. But I want to believe, if I am not deceiving none other, I am more than that. Ok, I can be famous and also be a celebrity, I guess the easiest is become a celebrity for what I think is a just cause, which eventually makes me famous. Innit! All I have to do is be the best in what I do, I must brace more controversy than the combo of Lady Gaga Rihanna and Madonna if I want to be held as high as the most controversial act of all time. Likewise, I am thinking if I want to be celebrated as the best male R n B artiste, most assuredly my voice products and tone signage must be at par with the lies of Bruno mars, Miguel, and Usher

Some do not have to be just about anything, just the birth family makes them a celeb of somewhat. However I am not Jaden Smith. Considering my pop man is a clergyman, so some opined that I must be a man of faith. That sounds more like it, what do I have to do to replace Pope Francis on the cover of Rolling Stones, TIME, Vanity Fair….please someone tell me. I hear from the grapevine that in such ecclesiastical authority, all I need to do is support equal human rights and give gay propagandists hope in church jurisdiction. No disrespect to the papacy, at least he is one of the most trendy Pope of all times and an agent of peace. The Church is really moving on, we want to believe. That is long hurdle for me to climb, in a 1000 years, I don’t think such feat is attainable.

Common that is not all, why limit chances of being a world celeb. Oh yes, what of a sport celeb, in fact with a combo of fashion. That will be Mr. David Beckham, having played for 22 years and shaped sport and fashion the world over. I think I sleep in delusion, I am almost close to a cardinal 30, and have not participated in any pro sport. Think further son, that can’t be all that there is. What of Steve Job, an inventor cum innovator, or business overloads Carlo Slim, and yes my man, Buffet, world’s most successful investor. Hmnn, that can happen, who says Buffet cannot bequeath sizeable portion of his wealth to a stranger. That could be me, yay. I have more money, Forbes can welcome a new burgee.

Aristotle Animals
We are social animals (so I hear), I want to be famous, happy, and whatever, I just want to be a celebrity. I love being in the news, twitter trends, front pages and the camaraderie of press (if at all there is any). Just shush, you starting to stunt like an attention seeker. My mind goes wild in imaginations while run solo on reflection. Hey halt this erratic musings of yours. Sorry, back to the headline, for all I want to live the life of the celebrity, how does that make the world a better place?

The lexicon paragraph and flow shit, don’t even makes sense…. Hello, excuse me for a moment! Just as I ruminate over the sort of celebrity I want to forge for myself, what do I want people who are I care for most in my life appreciate me for when I am long gone from the scene. So how much do I want to draw polemical headlines in a world that crumbles eventually? Will that money dancing in numerous accounts become the best deal life can offer, or I just keep counting the stars? Yo, is my life, I don’t give a hoot. Is that me? When reasoning is diseased, outcome wheeze fickle. I can hear Demarco singing ‘So low mi mek mi talk weh mi waan fi talk mi, have nuff mi say, So mi a go live my life today, mi a go live my life today’, may be that sums it. If you need translation speak to Rob Ford

The Evil Impression
From the days of late night shows, where the first objective as a man is to impress the girls enough to draw attention. Could this be the same yearning for power celebrity status like Kimye and Jayonce. Fine, I must really want this publicity front row so bad. A quest that only more compromise can promote extended spotlights.

Somebody is got to give some to have some. The modern culture disregard my de facto theory on what celebrity is. Though popular culture defines celebrity by the numbers of buzz, irrespective of the direction. For this, I am possessed by the idea that substance holds value than sundry, and quality than quantity. Of what good it is if my public characterization do not conform to the idiosyncrasies of those I hold the outright endorsement of my life and all its happiness.

With tears in my eyes, I am able to think deeply, what past of mine could have been change for the good. Every next second I breathe, I am re-writing a past staged even now. Give me all the money and fame in this world, it is not enough to satisfy my deepest motive. Those I found among all other things are be a loving husband, best dad to my kids, better supporter to friends and family, contribute meaningfully to the development of the world I can contact. For money is paper, paper is privilege, privilege is leverage, leverage is power, power can be anything.

Fortune tells story
A distant voice reaching to comfort my placidity, saying ‘I believe I am a celebrity if I am celebrated by the people who are most dare to me’. My beautiful spouse is my number one fan, she says I am funny, caring, intelligent and a fine gentleman. My parents look to me and I say, our precious son, we are proud of you. My close friends are grateful for the meaningful friendship we have had in these past years. One teen once told me I was an angel, I was moved to tears. Please someone tell me why I do feel blessed and a celebrity in my own world not a world designed by outsiders. Amos, my very good friend every other week, message me with the words ‘Abraham, I celebrate you’. That message is enough to get me through the clutter of the next fortnight. I don’t know why he does that, even when I feel like a shit, it pulls me through, not crying on Sunday.

If my spouse, family, friends celebrate me, do I need to be interviewed by Ryan Seacrest on E! Or prologued on SNL to feel I am a celebrity? A thought worth giving a spine, don’t think so.

Let’s face it, as a young person, do I think about the world, shape it or how to contribute to it purposively. We are so immersed in the pop culture that we want to be the next world’s most famous. A good question I cannot sufficiently answer is famous for what? For talent or troubles (no disrespect to Justin Bieber). At this junction, I have to decide if I want my life to be another episode of I can do bad by myself.

Lost in thought, more so, I wander afar and realized that truly I want to be a celebrity, I want to be celebrated and I found out I am already a celebrity, my family and friends celebrate me for who I am not for they can profit from such showers of adulation. I can hear some saying, oh ‘trophy’ generation, here they come again. You can say that again.

Night Comes
The market scene is always rowdy. I came naked, I go white naked, then I should matter more than just crave hoopla-whoopla. Do I want to be most celebrated trouble-maker in Hollywood or the record holder for most re-marriages? The later comes easy than the former, I just switch over every two years having new prenup for new admissions. Common, this guy is a chicken, he cannot fess up, and he weasels out easily. Stage a fight, and be your own Mayweather. I ask myself for the umpteenth time, at what expense. For all its worth, if the everyday profiling, media stage-outs, nuances, drug abuse, family breakdown, recklessness, rabbity…. Is all I got to do to stage that fight, I do not want to be part of it. For those attributes makes most of the figures in my head. I want to be who I like to be, my family wants to see and for which the world takes a step in progress.

Complete hogwash it is my friend, do you think we are still in the 19th century. Who cares for family in this age, ‘ain’t nobody go time for that’? I speak to myself again, bullshit world civilization. Do not rush boy, in your final straw in this life, what desires hold most potent? What do I think I want? A vista of Hollywood walk of fame, rewrite Charles Darwin’s treatise on biology, stream my last decade Facebook video, represent on top tabloid’s front pages… or the love and relationship of those I cherish most in my life. Just thinking, hey boy! Are you so drunk with repeated thoughts? How many Jägerbomb will do for the night?

Still trying to find honey in the forest of life. I’d be prepared to face the bees. Nevertheless, the night comes, we all go to bed, and I love to rest in peace. Night comes where we all have to surrender to fate. The evening tide soon blows life breathe away and settles on grave stones. Soon that day is coming, no one can survive. It’s au revoir baby, but not just yet…who stole my cheese? I got to ramp my workbench, and that brings me to the nadir of this piece. Somewhere, this guy is hashing new thoughts as ashes of reality blow swiftly into my very consciousness. Next thoughts to spit focuses on how the world struggles with the random rape stories. I think is time to face the criminal and victim. Gang rape, Gangsters and Ms. Pepples