Being famous is, I think, kind of relative. I have desires to be famous – kind of. By that, I mean, I would like to be famous from my writing. However, I think I would actually rather just be rich from my writing, so I could just write for a living and compose stories and be clever all day. In pajamas.
But, fame is at least a little bit relative, I suppose. I discovered this recently because I am semi-famous in two very tiny ways.
1) At Baylor things, I am relatively famous. I use the word relatively very loosely, because the Baylor Nation is kind of small. But it’s not uncommon to go to a Baylor game, tailgate, pep rally, etc., and have someone stop me to say, “Are you Natalie?” (Love you, Kerry and Patti!) I still get shocked when this happens because I am not at all famous but it sounds good to say, “In a crowd of 7,000, someone stopped me and said ‘Omgeeee are you Natalie? I love your blog!” It’s not quite as nice when you’re attending a freezing cold game and you’re in so many layers that you look like a green-and-gold Michelin man and someone recognizes you. At that point, it’s like, “Really?! You can’t even see my hair. All you can see are the two inches of exposed and frost bitten skin around my eyes.” Which, may I add is a bit disconcerting – I mean, imagine Violet Beauregarde walking around all blueberried up and having someone be all, “Vi, I thought I recognized you! You look just like your picture.” Nice to be spotted, but sad for poor bloated and blue-bubbly Violet (although not as sad as actually being turned into a perambulating piece of produce).
2) The other place where I am surprisingly famous is work. It’s kind of bizarre really. Our company is moderately large – about 1,500 people – and most days I see quite a few people whose faces I don’t recognize. But, if there ever comes a time for an introduction, these same people get inordinately excited to “meet” me. I am not kidding. They introduce me to their colleagues and they say things like, “Oh my gosh, you’re Natalie Tate!” and profess their joyous exuberance over our random in-the-course-of-business interaction. And they do this, not kidding, In a very similar tone as the one you might use when meeting a celebrity …unless of course you’re me, running into Angela Kinsey (of “The Office” fame) in which case, all I was able to muster up was a bat-screechingly-high-pitched “hi.” Eloquent, I know. But anyway, back to the point: it is hilarious to me that there are people in the world who become excited to see me because I post FAQs and ask for fundraiser money on the corporate intranet. At the same time, I appreciate it – it’s nice to have people excited to see you (hence why some dentists’ office apparently serve cookies).
For now, this appears to be the highest level of acclaim I am likely to receive, so I will take being quasi-famous in my two small universes. After all, a person who can only muster up the energy to write one blog post a month can’t complain about not being a literary household name. I guess I’ll just keep building up my office celeb cred with extra employee polls and surveys, and additional emails notifying people that their vehicle lights have been left on. The things we do for fame.