So, this "abstract famous" thing. Sounds a bit high-brow, doesn't it? Like something you'd hear at a modern art gallery where everyone's nodding seriously at a blank canvas. But for me, it just reminds me of this one time I genuinely tried to become, well, not household-name famous, but sort of famous in a really, really weird niche. Abstractly famous, you could say.
My Big Idea: Squirrel Dream Interpreter
Yeah, you heard that right. There was a phase, maybe a few years back, where I got it into my head that I was going to be the world's leading (and probably only) interpreter of squirrel dreams. I figured, squirrels are everywhere, they're busy little critters, they MUST have some wild dreams, right? And who was there to understand them? Nobody! That was my gap in the market.
I thought this was my ticket. Not to real fame, maybe, but to that quirky, "oh, that guy!" kind of recognition. Abstract, you see.
My Process to Abstract Fame
It wasn't just a whim, oh no. I had a whole system worked out. Here's what I did:
- Observation: I spent hours in parks. Just watching squirrels. How they twitched in their sleep (when I could spot a sleeping one, which wasn't often, turns out). How they buried nuts. I figured their daytime anxieties must fuel their nighttime narratives. Very scientific, I know.
- "Research": I read some old psychology books I found at a flea market. Stuff about dream symbols. Then I tried to apply it to squirrels. A buried nut? Clearly a metaphor for unresolved ambitions. A cat chasing them? Classic anxiety dream.
- Documentation: I kept a journal. Not of my dreams, but of what I imagined squirrel dreams would be. I even drew little pictures. "Squirrel Dream No. 42: The endless acorn that cannot be cracked." Deep stuff.
- Spreading the Word (or trying to): This was the tricky part.
- I'd try to bring it up in conversation. You know, "My friend's dog seems stressed, wonder what he's dreaming... speaking of which, I've been doing some groundbreaking work with squirrels..." Usually got a lot of slow blinks.
- I made these tiny, folded pamphlets with "Understanding Your Squirrel's Inner World" printed on them. Left them on park benches. Pretty sure the wind or the actual squirrels just made confetti out of them.
- I even found some super old internet forum about local wildlife. Posted my theories. I got exactly one reply: "Dude, you feeling okay?"
The "Famous" Part... Or Lack Thereof
So, did I become abstractly famous? Did people whisper my name in hushed tones when a squirrel chittered oddly? Nope. Not a bit. No calls from distressed squirrel owners. No invites to speak at rodent psychology conferences (which, I found out, don't exist).
My grand endeavor into the abstract world of squirrel dreams was, to put it mildly, a complete flop in terms of fame. I was just the weirdo staring at squirrels a bit too intently.
But you know what? Looking back, it was a time. I was passionate about something, even if that something was utterly bizarre and understood by literally no one else. I learned how to fold really tiny pamphlets, for one. And I got pretty good at identifying different types of local trees, because, well, that's where the squirrels were.
So, "abstract famous"? Maybe it just means you poured your heart into something only you could see the beauty in. Or maybe it's just a polite way of saying "that fella who did that really weird thing that one time." Yeah, probably more of the latter. These days, I just stick to gardening. The plants don't dream, or if they do, they keep it to themselves. Much simpler.
