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I was watching two videos by StrucciMovies about parasocial relationships and the second (much longer) video which talks about a lot of internet microcelebrities and the relationships they have to their fans, and the way that the broadcasting of their personal lives makes people feel like they can possibly know them, and the really terrible stuff that comes out of this dynamic, both for the fan and for the object of the fan's affection.
The above video was intercut with a video of Jacksepticeye as he was talking about how much his fans mean to him, and while I think that Jack is a good person who wants to do right by his fans this video really made me feel like I just wanted to tell him "You don't owe it to anyone to make your fans happy. You're a human being." Because with the video clips that Strucci used it is really obvious that Jack feels like he needs to give himself to his fans in order to repay them for liking his content. I'm not a huge fan of him; I really rarely watch his videos, especially not now that he and Mark are still gunning for Pewdiepie. But watching Strucci's videos did make me think about some of the parasocial bonds I have and how I need to make sure to keep my own life grounded.
It also made me think about fame, and how it's a double edged sword. Sure, people who make content on youtube for a living and are pretty successful at it have pretty great lives, monetarily speaking, for the work they do. And you think, god, I wish I could make it like them, I wish I could create content and be able to live comfortably, but we often take our anonymity for granted. I absolutely don't envy the people with millions of subscribers on youtube; yes, I envy their wealth, I envy that they don't have to worry about bills or going broke and having to move back in with abusive parents, but not for one second do I envy the fact that millions of people watch their videos and feel like they connect with them, somehow, that they deserve some insight into their personal lives or are owed physical interaction with them.
But I think that's just sort of the way internet culture has gone. We crave 'real' details, raw, unfiltered life to live vicariously through. We post portions of our life online in order to capitalize on likes and online interaction, and the worst part is that if you don't have a solid support net of money to fall back on it's almost morbidly necessary in case you need to get support from your followers. Moving from tumblr and onto DW and twitter I have the acute fear that without the same amount of followers I had on tumblr, my art's going to go nowhere, and nobody's going to care if I need to raise money in case I get into accident or need help or--
Well, you get the idea.
In a society as fucked up as ours, I really think that the internet and parasocial relationships are really just a disturbing symptom. In a society where we progressively feel more isolated, because of employment, because of the way capitalism and social systems work, in which the internet has become an enormous supplement to interaction because some of us had no other choice, feeling and satiating a crave for genuine social intimacy through vloggers and micro-celebrities who interact with their fans (and who are people who are profoundly unprepared for fame and thus feel pressured to somehow repay their fans through their own self-objectification) feels like an inevitability.
What are we missing? How can we get it back?
The above video was intercut with a video of Jacksepticeye as he was talking about how much his fans mean to him, and while I think that Jack is a good person who wants to do right by his fans this video really made me feel like I just wanted to tell him "You don't owe it to anyone to make your fans happy. You're a human being." Because with the video clips that Strucci used it is really obvious that Jack feels like he needs to give himself to his fans in order to repay them for liking his content. I'm not a huge fan of him; I really rarely watch his videos, especially not now that he and Mark are still gunning for Pewdiepie. But watching Strucci's videos did make me think about some of the parasocial bonds I have and how I need to make sure to keep my own life grounded.
It also made me think about fame, and how it's a double edged sword. Sure, people who make content on youtube for a living and are pretty successful at it have pretty great lives, monetarily speaking, for the work they do. And you think, god, I wish I could make it like them, I wish I could create content and be able to live comfortably, but we often take our anonymity for granted. I absolutely don't envy the people with millions of subscribers on youtube; yes, I envy their wealth, I envy that they don't have to worry about bills or going broke and having to move back in with abusive parents, but not for one second do I envy the fact that millions of people watch their videos and feel like they connect with them, somehow, that they deserve some insight into their personal lives or are owed physical interaction with them.
But I think that's just sort of the way internet culture has gone. We crave 'real' details, raw, unfiltered life to live vicariously through. We post portions of our life online in order to capitalize on likes and online interaction, and the worst part is that if you don't have a solid support net of money to fall back on it's almost morbidly necessary in case you need to get support from your followers. Moving from tumblr and onto DW and twitter I have the acute fear that without the same amount of followers I had on tumblr, my art's going to go nowhere, and nobody's going to care if I need to raise money in case I get into accident or need help or--
Well, you get the idea.
In a society as fucked up as ours, I really think that the internet and parasocial relationships are really just a disturbing symptom. In a society where we progressively feel more isolated, because of employment, because of the way capitalism and social systems work, in which the internet has become an enormous supplement to interaction because some of us had no other choice, feeling and satiating a crave for genuine social intimacy through vloggers and micro-celebrities who interact with their fans (and who are people who are profoundly unprepared for fame and thus feel pressured to somehow repay their fans through their own self-objectification) feels like an inevitability.
What are we missing? How can we get it back?
