One of the really double-edged swords of adulthood is a love of comfort/a dislike of being inconvenienced. Having the resources to achieve comfort is a wonderful thing, and I cherish it, but if it makes me reluctant to go camping or try something new, then all is not well. I hate changing plans (and planes, for that matter). South America seems too dangerous to me. Australia is very far. India would require too much language learning. Even Germany feels kind of bothersome. I am too young to be this unadventurous.
Time to bring out the old penguin trick:
Ramón: [standing ontop of a cliff, trying to get ready to jump off]
Ramón: I can do this, I can do this... I have to trick myself.
[points at something behind him]
Ramón: Boy, look at that!
[looks at where he's pointing]
[falls off the cliff]
Thank you, Happy Feet.
That said, I still love my only-mediumly-famous famous people; my days of standing in the rain for six hours for anyone (hello there Greg Dulli from the Afghan Whigs – not even that famous; or that attractive*) are most definitely at an end. Besides, the mediumly famous are usually nicer; and these days niceness in the face of fame seems so much more impressive to me than glamour**.
*Not to knock Greg Dulli, but he ain’t no (pre-cheese-farm-wedded-bliss) Alex James
**If I want glamour, there’s always Shah Rukh Khan’s filmography. Singing! Dancing! Political overtones! Why is it that Bollywood is so inherently more glamourous than anything else? It has an unabashed love of the kitschy-yet -pretty, the hackneyed-yet-charming that I find especially appealing just at the moment.