The Subtle Art of Being a Facebook Psycho
Every morning I wake up and contemplate on what it is I need to share with Facebook for the day. It is a sick compulsion but also some people are really into it so I suppose that makes it cool?
I share something, then I share another thing, then another. Next thing I know I’ve shared ten things in eight hours and I feel that it is way too much. That I am exerting too much of myself. So I go back through the day’s sharings and choose things to hide and things to leave up. It’s a game to me and my rapid cycling thoughts. I go through all of the feelings multiple times a day.
Sad, angry, haha, I love it!
I feel embarrassment and I feel shame and I feel psychotic but I still feel relatable because I know it is relatable. I’m the one who says the shit everyone else is thinking. I’m also the one who shares the shit that no one else is thinking. I just like sharing.
It’s weird because I’m like, smart. But I consume so much alcohol and weed that it has to have made me stupider. Though the dichotomy of stupidity and intelligence is, hands down, the most relatable way to be. And isn’t that the fucking point? Who am I trying to be if not a woman of the people?
And then I ask myself: Who are the people? Well, the people are mentally fucked up. The people are conflicted. The people are psychos. The people like Breaking Bad as much as I like Breaking Bad. The people disagree with me about El Camino. The people moved from one city to another city and they also Irish goodbye’d when they left. We are one. I am connected. I love the people.
Though Facebook is messy and problematic, I have always really liked it. In fact, I would go as far as to say, that Facebook is my favorite place on the internet. I like it because I’m a traveler and I like to go far away, but never feel like I’m really too far away. And in small ways, I know how to read between the lines of people through their Facebook presences. Facebook provides a window into people’s lives. My window is more like a fully open garage door.
Which then begs the question…. am I……. unhireable? What do people see when they look me up? But also, why would anybody look me up? I feel like they wouldn’t, that they don’t. Which is to say, I don’t really have a grasp on the numbers of people on average who actually give a shit about anything I have to say. All I know is that it’s *some* people. That there are *several severals of people* out there, playing along with me, following my Facebook psychosis, and they really like it. But if I am unhireable to some extent, that means that art has to be my career and there are no other options. And I purposely did this to myself. It was intentional. I did this to myself when I graduated high school, dropped out of college, saved up a wad of money waiting tables, and started traveling as to discover things about myself and the world.
I am a full blown artist. I have committed my entire life to being an artist and my only true plan in life is to keep creating art. That’s it. That’s the whole thing. So simple, and yet so, so complicated. Which then begs the question: Is being a Facebook psycho an art form? And if art is my job, but I can’t monetize being a Facebook psycho, then is it worth it to keep doing it? Where does my integrity lie in this situation?
Anybody who knows the first thing about me knows my role model for all of this is Amanda Palmer, and anyone who knows Amanda Palmer essentially knows that I’m the incarnation of the next generation of that. She’s the most successful person I’ve ever heard of in terms of monetizing this whole being a blogger/Twitter queen/musician/philosopher type. But the thing is, I’m NOT Amanda Palmer. I’m Piper Fucking Shepherd. I’m not some reincarnation of some other great artist. I am me. I am my own artist. I can’t just follow all the steps she took, because I’M MY OWN FUCKING PERSON. I like Facebook MORE than Twitter, OKAY AMANDA?
I’m kidding of course. Amanda Palmer doesn’t give a fuck about me. It’s funny how I used to be so fixated on her just like, knowing who the fuck I am and recognizing my work. It is very freeing to not care anymore. Even though, a small part of me will always secretly yearn for that. But I’m getting off track here. The whole thing is that I am me, and obsessing over people who are a bigger deal than me, desperately hoping that they’ll recognize my work and give me some sort of opportunity in life, is not healthy. It’s not going to get me anywhere. I have to make my own success story. These indie celebrities out there, they don’t hold the keys to my success. I hold those fucking keys.
So here I am trying to figure it out. And I have faith that my friends who route for me on Facebook will come to this blog and see what I have to say. And if I got you to do that, I’m already making progress. All I have to ask is that if you guys could keep believing in me and sharing the things I put out there that made you feel something, then I can be a successful artist and maybe more people will start to know who I am. And if I could achieve a healthy amount of recognition, then I can make art my full time job. If I can make art my full time job, then I promise to never stop touring and to come hang out with all of you as often as humanly possible. And I promise to never stop spending time with y’all in whatever way makes the most sense. And whether or not that’s in person or on Facebook, I promise you I’m not going anywhere.
