I continue to be absolutely overwhelmed by the amazing and wonderful fans of Amanda Palmer – she’s playing a show in Sydney tomorrow, and I’ve been wanting to go. But I have no money and so it’s been a quiet dream I didn’t expect to be fulfilled. Except that yesterday, someone said they had a spare ticket. I tweeted back at them, but turns out someone beat me to it. I was sad, and so damn annoyed that I missed out by only a few minutes, probably just because my phone is really crappy and stuffs up all the time.
Then – that evening – I read a writeup of a Kickstarter house party she’d done, by the lovely Xanthea, and she mentioned that she had a spare ticket too. I tweeted her but didn’t expect much, and kept thinking about how I’d missed out before. Except that this time, Xanthea tweeted back and offered me the ticket.
OH MY GOD.
Yes, that’s right. Some complete and total, absolute stranger offered me a ticket to Amanda’s show. I still can’t quite believe it – I’m so happy. So thrilled. So much in awe of the way this mysterious woman – Amanda – manages to attract such amazing fans, who will give a ticket to someone they don’t know, from the internet. I even told her I was a schoolkid before, so she’d not be disappointed, and she still didn’t mind me having it.
To try and return the favour in some small way, I’ve been stalking Xanthea’s tumblr. Of course, she seems like a fantastic individual (god, I’m swiftly running out of complimentary adjectives to use in this post!) and all the things she’s doing, her Laundry Nights (which sound magnificent) and her living-statue-ing – are somehow inspiring to me even though I don’t particularly want to host nights of music, tea and laundry, fun as it sounds – because it reminds me that people are just, to put it simply, great. Some are better than others, in my opinion. But there’s definitely a lot of those better people out in the world, and that’s reassuring, because no one wants to live in a world with only a few great people.
Rambling, as usual.
Thing is, I often forget how interesting and unique and fabulous people are if you bother to look into their lives. Social media lets us peek in on the lives of so many more people, all round the globe, and I love it, because it also allows us to connect with people, and to share with them. So many people have written about advantages of the internet that there’s no need for me to add my puny voice to it – it’s damn good, and that’s that. But it’s still awe-inspiring to me that people do connect so much with each other, at all, even with the internet.
I would never describe myself as anti-social but there are probably many aspects of me which seem like that. Not that there’s an awful event in my past that stops me from connecting to people or something (thank heaven), but I do find it hard to do that in normal circumstances – at school or things like that. I’ve never joined any groups or clubs or sports because I want to avoid that forced contact with people. And yet, somehow, I adore finding these people on the internet who…are so wonderful. I seem to trust them so much more. I don’t know why, and maybe it’s an issue I should work on, but it’s like people from the internet, who you don’t need to see again ever if you don’t want to, are much easier and better than the messy, imperfect, infuriating lives I see in front of me every day. Even though I know the internet-people’s lives are messily imperfect too, it’s like it’s more my own kind of messy, or at least, it’s the kind of messy that I can somehow respect.
Actually, I have no idea what this is even about. Sorry, anyone unfortunate enough to read it. But I’ll post it anyway because apparently I’m allergic to not sharing myself with everyone, all the time.
That’s actually exactly it, the most perfect example I could have come up with: I love blogging. No one reads it, or at least, very few do. I have a tendency to bare parts of my mind – and if you want to call it that, my soul – on here as carelessly as someone friendly bestows “And how are you?”s on the people around them. I don’t mind that people could, if they wanted for some reason, come here and read my life since circa August 2012. My sadness, my joys, my stupid behaviour, my rants, and my occasional little adventures. I don’t care, in fact, I want people to read it, to care, to know me – that’s the ultimate reason behind a blog like this, isn’t it? I’m fairly certain it is for me. I love attention.
And yet, I practically faint at the thought of someone I know finding this. My brother and best friend found out – I’m still kind of upset about that. I don’t want them to know about it. I don’t know why, when what I want is attention, I can’t bear the thought of someone I know finding it and wanting to talk about it to me. But I do.
I trust strangers from the internet more than my casual friends and acquaintances from real life, basically.