The Penn celebrity is as elusive a concept as it is a status to obtain. In the real world, a celebrity can be a variety of things. There is the deserving celebrity, known for talent and achievement, the socialite, famous for being famous and hanging out with other famous people and the attention-whore, who may or may not have had talent at some point, but has managed to parley his or her celebrity into something larger. This is the celebrity who graces tabloid covers on a weekly basis, who is discussed in national news reports, who seems to be famous for nothing more than a mental breakdown and flashing the paparazzi, until you remember half a decade ago, when she was just starting out with little more than an innocent song and dance.
Here at Penn, the differentiations are, well, different. Without a tabloid to cover the antics of the rich and ridiculous, celebrity here relies on word of mouth and listserves. In many ways, this communication is a stronger force. In order to be truly famous here at Penn, everyone must be talking about you. There is no In Touch to guide the conversational flow, no CNN letting the entire country know you're pregnant, and yet, without being told, everybody seems to know.
Back in the small high schools many of us attended, everyone knew everyone else's name. To be a celebrity beyond this initial recognition was to be known for actually doing something, whether what you did required talent or just loose morals and a lack of inhibitions. Here at Penn, this level of fame should be impossible. In a population of ten thousand students, to be known is a true accomplishment. Yet, we travel in smaller circles within this population. Each scene has it's own miniature hierarchy. To be a school-wide celebrity, you must either have found the time to travel in multiple scenes, or be so accomplished or ridiculous as to be spoken of outside of your own. In the very least, when someone sends you a Shoutout, instead of asking, "Who is this about?" the question is always and without fail one of awe and amusement: "Is this really true?" And if they have to ask, they probably already know the answer.
As is usually the case in tabloid America, fame doesn't last. There is a certain four-year arc to Penn celebrity status, during which you may only have 15 minutes before you are completely forgotten. For some of us, this is great news. No one wants to be remembered for something they regret. Socialites come and go, replaced with younger, fresher faces, often around this time of year when freshmen are freshly labeled by the sororities and fraternities who accept them. The ridiculous are talked about in detail but quickly forgotten, replaced by even more ridiculous younger students who seem to have missed the memo that certain behavior will not go unnoticed. Those who are deserving of their celebrity status retain it the longest, gaining momentum up until senior year, when they must graduate and step onto the lowest rung of a new real world or corporate fame ladder. Fame is as fleeting as it is fulfilling. So don't fight it. If you don't want fame, it will be gone before you know it. In the span of four years, 15 minutes is really a very short time.
