I’ve considered myself a serious fan of YouTubers since about freshman year of high school. I don’t say that to sound intense or to elevate myself in any way (if anything, the phrase “serious YouTube fan” probably sounds a little lame), I just want to clarify because it was a realization.
It’s weird when you’re on the internet for so long, watching these videos of people with huge followings, and then you go and talk to your friends and they are completely unaware of these, let’s just say the word here, celebrities.
They’re much more well known now because of their books and their crossovers on television and the overall increase in social media fame, too, but there was a point when the only people I could really reference to classmates were NigaHiga and Jenna Marbles.
It was at this point that I wanted to become a YouTuber–and who wouldn’t?? I’m not trying to undermine anything that they do, but even they will admit that it’s the best job out there. Money aside, even, you get to spend your days traveling and collaborating and socializing and being creative.
I wanted in from the beginning, but I didn’t have a particular talent. I grew up writing in my room for hours on end and I was completely content with being alone to entertain myself. I wasn’t necessarily a natural-born performer.
Besides, I didn’t have any content I wanted to produce. I couldn’t sing. I couldn’t really act. I hadn’t ever tried writing a skit and I couldn’t even tell stories particularly well.
Funny enough, I now have a YouTube channel even though none of that has really changed.
But the difference here is that I’m not trying to make YouTube my job. It might be if I could choose, but I can’t. Not really. It’s more up to people–to the audience–to decide who makes it big on YouTube.
I got a text back in the fall from a friend–completely out of the blue–that said, “wtf you have a YouTube channel??”
He found it because of a stuuupid mistake, and seeing that text made my heart drop, but it ended up being one of the best things that happened for us. He loves YouTube, too, and is creative in expressing himself (see his blog here) and we became really close because of it.
Other random people in my life know about it, and other close friends do as well, but yesterday I had the same feeling that I had this past fall when I walked into the kitchen and saw my mom watching the video of Sarah and I sharing our summer bucket list.
I love my Mom and I tell her most things. I’ve complained to her about hangovers and confessed that I’ve only ever cracked my phone (or dropped it in a toilet) when I’m drunk off my ass. And her seeing this one video of Sarah and I (especially since she really didn’t seem all that shocked or confused by it–she only commented that she liked my editing when it zoomed in on Sarah’s face) isn’t a big deal. It’s what could come that is.
If my mom knows something, she will most likely tell my dad. And if she knows my “Sincerely Sammy” username, they could easily find the channel again. Or, more importantly, this blog.
I would have no problem letting them know about the channel. I could vlog more freely and make videos with Sarah when they’re actually home. I could use her computer to edit and not have to lie that it’s for a school project. Things would be easier.
If they know about the blog, things could get harder.
This is my safe space. I come here to vent and to analyze and to clarify and eventually grow. I come here to make sense of my life and I often pick apart pieces of my past when trying to make sense of my present.
I don’t care if they read about my trip to Gulf Shores or my book reviews for The Empty Bookshelf.
I care if they read about my depression and my ADD and my analysis of their parenting. I care if they read my entries from freshman year (and even this past fall semester) and see, firsthand, how much I was struggling.
I don’t want them to find out how much I’ve kept from them. Because what they know won’t hurt them, and ignorance is bliss. I don’t want to shatter that now.
Because just like how this blog brought Zach and I closer together, it could act as a wedge in my relationship with my parents that could drive us even further apart.