Musings of a Teenager

We all want it. Some of us have got it. But what is it? What drives us towards it? What does it actually mean?
OK, so I admit it, this is based on the assemblies given at school this week by my form tutor. Well, some of my own ideas, and definately my own words, so more... inspired, I think. Anyway, I'm going off on a tangent.
'I want to live forever... People will see me and cry "Fame!"'
That's how the song goes. I don't like it. I've got several bad memories of singing it in my primary school's choir. It seems just a set of lyrics. Or is it? 'I want to live forever'. Isn't that what we all want. I for one remember dreams, of not too long ago, where I lived forever. Everyone else died, just me, I saw what happened. Everyone wants to see what will happen in the future I think. Everyone wants to see how they are remembered. It would be 'fun'to read your own obituary, wouldn't it? To see what people think of you? But then you realise that you don't want it. If everyone else died you would know noone. You would be a stranger, and outcast. If you were talking to your great-great-great grandchildren, who themselves were now grandparents, could you cope? I don't think so. We need change, but not too much. We need to inhabit our own space and time and then leave. I think this is where the idea of an afterlife was born. we all knew it was best that we died. But we didn't want it to be the end. So is that what fame is about. The quest for an afterlife? To be remembered after you are long dead. By that reckoning Caeser is one of the most famous people ever. But is he? How do you define fame? The Chambers dictionary definition runs thus: public report or rumour, renown or celebrity, chiefly in a good sense - to report. I feel I should have chosen a more up to date dictionary. Does that satisfy me? No. It feels in part like a thesaurus, in part like they didn't know how to define it themselves. Let me have a go: to be known, to be recognised outside your immediate consequences. Okay, I don't think that Oxford will be employing that any time soon, I've used the word 'you' for goodness' sake! But it is good enough for me.
So, after all that, what actually is fame? Is it your face on the cover of all the tabloids and a women's magazine once a week, or is it a lasting contribution to society. Most people would say that Paris Hilton is famous. No she isn't. She's a celebrity. She hasn't done anything. Does this need to be added to my definition? To be remembered for a contribution, positive or negative, to society outside one's immediate social circles. See, I've even changed 'you' to 'one'. That's a bit long winded though isn't it? Surely something more short, sweet and succint is required. But I have diverged again. Back to Paris. I would say that if you wanted someone who was truly famous then you turned to Einstein or Hawkings. But, surely the original meaning of fame was to be widely recognised. So Paris, Channelle and all that lot truly are famous. But I don't agree. They haven't done anything. We have been changing and manipulating the definition, but so has society. The thing it is describing now comes in two forms as well. So is fame just an upshot of our modern, consumer-based society? No, I think it has always been around. But we now have so many ways to do it. With so many academic subjects it's easy to find your niche. The web is such an evolving medium that for a moment you can be held up in the limelight and clamed as famous for making a certain site that is forgotten completely five years later. 'Reality TV' allows anyone with absolutely no talent at all to get their 15 minutes. We plaster ourselves across profile pages. We add anyone and everyone to MSN and MySpace. I, for one, have a MySpace, Facebook and Bebo accounts, not that I use them much. I have created several websites, most of which have collapsed in a heap. I am on several forums. I'm on MSN. I'm on Yahoo. And goodness knows how many other sites. I keep a blog. That is fine for me. That is enough. The fame given by this. By knowing that someone, somewhere, outside my normal social circles may just have drawn an ounce of pleasure from reading my ramblings at some time or other. If this url is given to just one person I am famous. If just one person thinks about, or discusses what is here then I have got my fame. And I'm human. So I would love to be told!

The Jean Charles de Menezes Shooting
On the 21st of July 2005, there was a bomb scare in Central London. Coming as it did, a fortnight after 4 devices had been detonated to major damage and several deaths, the police mounted a response on a massive scale and London was placed on high alert. The next day, however, this was to go tragically wrong. An inocent Brazilian man was mistaken for one of the suspected suicide bombers and shot dead at Stockwell Tube Station.
Then, just last week, the Metropolitan Police was found guilty of gross negligence, or something. Anyway, that doesn't matter. What does matter is who is getting the blame. The Chief Commisioner, Sir Ian Blair. Why, oh why, oh why? He was not connected to the case. Yes, he put the city on highest alert, but with blooming good reason. He didn't give the intelligence that it might be one of the bombers. He didn't give the order ot detain that man. He didn't pull the trigger. So why should he get the blame? And why has an inquiry into the shooting only just started? It is two years after it happened. Witnesses can vanish or die. Memories can fade, change or even be changed. People can talk to other people. Things can be said. Why don't they do it immediately? Why has an inquest into Diana's death only just started. For that matter, why is it happening at all? They almost certainly had some alcohol in their bloodsteams. They almost certainly were speeding. They almost certainly were being chased. And the one person wearing his seatbelt survived. It could have been a campaign to get people to wear safety belts. It could have been a campaign against driving immediately after drinking. But instead it turns into this. Great!

That, as you may or may not know, is a quote from Terry Pratchett's brilliant and highly successful series of Discworld books. But when, you ask, might that come into play in real life? I actually have done this twice in recent weeks. One time I created the mischief, another time it was someone convincing themselves of something that was not true. I describe them both below.

'Where's he gone?'

I was in the beautiful town of Chester during the Octobe Half Term holiday. It was gorgeous, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and we were going back to a car park. My dad and brother were some way in front and my mum, my gran and I were walking along talking. The conversation had got onto some topic, I can't recall what, but it didn't really include me. So I decided to try something. I dropped behind, as if to let them talk easier. Once or twice they turned around to say things to me and I mumbled a reply. Then I dropped even further behind, and even further. And they didn't seem to notice or do anything. Then, I crossed the road. It was quite and the car park was on the other side. And they still didn't notice anything! So you can melt into the background. You can be put entirely out of memory. They only noticed me, after all, when a couple of minutes later they too came to cross. They turned to face the road and, as traffic was coming along at that moment, said that I must have seen it was clear and crossed all by myself, how clever and sensible I was. I kept my trickery to myself although I am guessing a smile did flash across my lips. It had worked!

The Missing 10

My second observation comes about a week later. We had been doing some work in French that the teacher wanted to mark, so he took our books in. He had already explained the mark scheme. The next day we got our books back. I had got 26. One of the people in our class came up and said '26 out of 30, that's good, well done'. I thought this strange immediately. It was out of 40! I told him this and he replied 'No, it's out of 30, no-ones got higher than 30.' I wanted to leave it there. But this was obviously wrong, he had convinced himself of something based purely on what he had seen. And it was completely wrong. I explained the maths to him. There were 13 questions, 3 marks for each make 39. He then said he'd give all of us a bonus mark. It's out of 40. He still kept on that it was out of 30. I left it there. But it is interesting, isn't it. The way that someone puts the memories out of their mind. They don't think. They just look and assume. Well, I found it interesting anyway.