Categories
meta

Being okay with being terrible

<!––>

Lately, in addition to blogging and podcasting every day, I’ve been recording short videos and uploading them to YouTube.

These vlogs are pretty bad. I address the camera from my cramped little home office—a talking head with a weird-looking haircut. My ramshackle light rig casts a yellow, washed-out pall over my face. I deliver this scripted, stilted little speech, often spouting half-baked ideas. Very few viewers ever see these sad little videos; as I record this, yesterday’s episode has a grand total of one view. One.

Making something mediocre, let alone something that’s genuinely bad, is difficult for me. I’m very much a type-A personality; I was the kid who mourned every A-minus and who restarted a piano piece every time he hit a wrong wrong note.

And it’s not hard to see the flaws in what I’m posting, particularly when I compare it to others’ work on the web. Lately I’ve been watching a lot of Casey Neistat, vlogger king. His work makes me feel simultaneously jealous and ashamed. I feel jealous because he’s so damn good at what he does. And I feel ashamed because Casey and I are almost the exact same age (we were literally born just four days apart). Two thirty-six-year-olds, one who does amazing, admired work, and one who… doesn’t.

This self-critical, all-or-nothing mindset has sabotaged my creative impulse before. I have abandoned a half-dozen online projects when I wasn’t satisfied with either the quality of the result or the (nonexistent) audience reaction. My latent perfectionism sabotaged the daily discipline, grinding the machine to a halt.

The only difference so far this time around is that I’m pushing through that discouragement and trying to ignore the results. In short, I’ve learned to be okay with being terrible. I’ve decided to just keep making stuff, whether it’s mediocre or not. ■

Categories
internet Uncategorized

What’s it like to be “Internet Famous”?

Caite Upton’s ineloquent response during a 2007 beauty pageant interview catapulted her to Internet infamy. She spoke with New York magazine about the experience:

Somebody once put a letter in my parents’ mailbox about how my body was going to be eaten alive by ants and burned in a freak fire. And then it said, in all caps, GO DIE CAITE UPTON, GO DIE FOR YOUR STUPIDITY. That’s the kind of stuff people would say to me for two years.

The article features discussions with Upton and a handful of other ex-memes. Among the interviewees are the “Leave Britney Alone” vlogger, the “Evolution of Dance” guy, the homeless “Golden Voice” man, and the “Charlie bit my finger” family.

The conversations cover some fascinating territory. Do online services that allow anonymous comments (e.g. YouTube and Reddit) encourage abuse? Who leveraged their unexpected fame into cash, who didn’t, and who regrets it? How do the celebs feel about imitators piggy-backing on their success? How did they handle the inevitable decline in popularity?