Celebrity is not for everyone.

Here are three snapshots of me in my imaginary scenarios:

1) I'm onstage, belting out my latest hit song before thousands of fans who are so loud in their adulation of me that they can't hear a single word I sing, but they don't care.

2) I'm in Sweden (I think) accepting the Nobel Prize for Physics.

3) I'm getting my picture taken with the mayor of my hometown for being named Teacher of the Year for our school district.

What do these snapshots have in common, and how are they different? I'll give you a few seconds to think about it.

Okay, here it is: number one is celebrity, number two is fame, and number three is recognition.

They all involve being singled out as special, worthy of attention, but they aren't the same. Not by a long shot. And those of us who are ambitious have to figure out which one we really want.

We all want to be recognized for our efforts and achievements, but we may not want the celebrity -- the attention to us personally -- that may come with it. J.D. Salinger became widely recognized for his novel THE CATCHER IN THE RYE and then went into hiding, where he remains to this day. He got famous for that novel to boot. But he didn't want the celebrity that went with it, meaning that he didn't want the attention paid to him as a person. I'm sure the last thing he wants is fans seeking him out at his home, asking for his autograph.

Similarly, many who make breakthrough discoveries, in science or other fields, probably enjoy the recognition of their hard work but hate the idea of getting dressed up to go to award ceremonies and being thronged by admirers afterward. They just want to get back to work. In the case of the Nobel Prize, you have to remember that it's not given for something someone discovered last year but maybe many years before; it's taken that long for his/her colleagues to evaluate the work and determine that it's significant in the long run. Hence fame, not just recognition (and certainly not celebrity).

And real fame -- being remembered for our deeds eveb after we're gone -- is totally beyond our control. History decides who's famous and who isn't. No publicist, however skilled, can make anyone famous. Celebrated, yes; famous, no.

Celebrity is the real kicker, the one that fouls most of us up as we imagine ourselves praised and touted and idolized. It's the easiest one to fantasize about: throwing that perfect pass to the end zone in the Super Bowl, blowing away the crowd at halftime at that same game with our rendition of whatever song, being drooled over by millions because of our TV talk show, etc. Of course it's also the least likely for most of us, but hey, that's what fantasizing is all about, no?

The reason I say celebrity -- the most glamorous of the three kinds of attention -- is a kicker is that most of us who yearn for it don't realize the strings that are attached to it. Let me list a few: constant judging of everything we do and everyone we're with; snotty remarks about our every statement or political/religious view; long lenses on us at all times to record our every date or even casual encounter, not to mention how we look in a swimsuit (did he/she gain weight? ); endless speculation about our marital status (is he cheating on her? is she pregnant?); etc.

In other words, a total loss of privacy.

If you are a celebrity, someone who is in the public eye not so much for something you've done as for your own glorious self, you belong to the public. (Quick now: Name three Drew Barrymore movies. Three Adam Sandler movies? Three novels by your favorite romance novelist? Sorry, time's up!) If you're a celebrity, then you are who you are because of your fans. They made you who you are, and you owe them, through their agents, the photographers and reporters. You're answerable to them. They demand access to you, and maybe they have a right to.

Are you ready for that?

On the other hand, if you discover a cure for malaria, you will indeed be in the newspapers and maybe even on TV, but the focus will be on what you did, not who you are (or what you look like). You will be recognized, and even -- for a brief time -- a celebrity, but, in the end, no one will remember your face, only your accomplishment (with your name attached, you hope).

Jonas Salk is justifiably famous for discovering the polio vaccine, but how many of us could pick him out of a line-up?

Sometimes celebrity and fame overlap, as in the case of Albert Einstein, the inventor of theories almost none of us have any hope of understanding but who had the wild-haired appearance that made him a visual icon of intelligence to this day. The same could be said of Andy Warhol, whose pop paintings brought him to the attention of the art world but whose pasty-faced, white-haired appearance, and his glamor-loving lifestyle made him also a celebrity. Ghandi might be included on such a list: his pacifist teachings helped free India from the British, but the pictures of him, anorexic but wise-looking in peasant clothing, turned him into a celebrity. Mother Teresa, too.

Recognition, the cousin of fame and celebrity, is most often the result of a smaller group -- not the whole nation of teenagers screaming after Brittany Spears -- acknowledging something you have done that they, and maybe only they, know is worthwhile and significant. In some ways, it's the most gratifying kind of attention, as it's usually given (1) by people you know and whose respect you value and (2) in your lifetime. Recognition is the foundation of both fame and celebrity but need not -- usually doesn't -- lead to either or both. Enjoy it for itself.

So here it is in a nutshell. If you want to be famous or recognized, do your best at whatever you're best at. If your work is deemed valuable, you'll be recognized. If your acomplishments last, you'll be famous. If, on the other hand, you want to be celebrated -- a celebrity -- then do your utmost to get yourself looked at, and don't be alarmed when people do, to an extent that might make you uncomfortable. No whining allowed.

Don't say you haven't been warned.