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Jul. 11th, 2003 04:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rmLivejournal, among other things, raises a lot of issues, for many of us I think, about "friendship" and "fans". It's the nature of the whole, "On the Internet, Anyone Can Be a Celebrity, Well, Kind Of" thing that is further complicated by the irritatingly named "friends" lists. For me, wanting to achieve the type of success that conveys fame, there's an additional level of peculiarity in matter, which has to do mainly with wondering if there's a balance between Not Being an Asshole and "If you wanna be a star, you better behave like one."
People toss the word fan around casually. We say things like "I'm your number one fan!" to cheer our friends, and throw support towards people we know more casually through this and other mediums. All of which makes me wonder what the criteria are for certain things, and how those things interact.
That is to say -- at what point do I know any of you?
At what point are you a friend?
What is a fan?
And if you're a fan can you ever be my friend?
And if you're my friend, do you have any business being a fan?
Is fan a word used too casually or too seriously?
How to role-models and aspiration fit into the fannish equation?
And where is media and image-making going in a world where everyone isn't famous for fifteen minutes, but everyone is famous in the eyes of fifteen people?
I don't bloody know. And I don't know that knowing the answers (presuming there are clear cut ones) would solve the non-specific dilemma I find in all this.
When people tell me they are my fan (just to be clear, this is yet to be another more than the occassional Internet occurance or related to my writing), I often respond with an incredulous "Why?" which makes me sound like an asshole. It is, among other things, not my business and can seem like and be fishing for compliments, which is bad. On the other hand, it is helpful to know what it is that I do that matters to people, so I can look at those things more closely. I remain uncomfortable saying merely "Thank you" because while probably appropriately gracious creates a power dynamic of distance, where notations of worth are conducted in only one direction. Similarly, the impulse to respond to someone liking or approving of their perception of some facet of myself, with an invitation to friendship ranges from a good idea to a bad idea to just plain stupid.
Having written this now, it occurs to me that one of the most egregious problems with the notion of fans, in any sense of the word is that our cultural set up for it forces both sides of the equation to be necessarily estranged from each other and unhappy, even as both provide so much to the other.
People toss the word fan around casually. We say things like "I'm your number one fan!" to cheer our friends, and throw support towards people we know more casually through this and other mediums. All of which makes me wonder what the criteria are for certain things, and how those things interact.
That is to say -- at what point do I know any of you?
At what point are you a friend?
What is a fan?
And if you're a fan can you ever be my friend?
And if you're my friend, do you have any business being a fan?
Is fan a word used too casually or too seriously?
How to role-models and aspiration fit into the fannish equation?
And where is media and image-making going in a world where everyone isn't famous for fifteen minutes, but everyone is famous in the eyes of fifteen people?
I don't bloody know. And I don't know that knowing the answers (presuming there are clear cut ones) would solve the non-specific dilemma I find in all this.
When people tell me they are my fan (just to be clear, this is yet to be another more than the occassional Internet occurance or related to my writing), I often respond with an incredulous "Why?" which makes me sound like an asshole. It is, among other things, not my business and can seem like and be fishing for compliments, which is bad. On the other hand, it is helpful to know what it is that I do that matters to people, so I can look at those things more closely. I remain uncomfortable saying merely "Thank you" because while probably appropriately gracious creates a power dynamic of distance, where notations of worth are conducted in only one direction. Similarly, the impulse to respond to someone liking or approving of their perception of some facet of myself, with an invitation to friendship ranges from a good idea to a bad idea to just plain stupid.
Having written this now, it occurs to me that one of the most egregious problems with the notion of fans, in any sense of the word is that our cultural set up for it forces both sides of the equation to be necessarily estranged from each other and unhappy, even as both provide so much to the other.
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no subject
Date: 2003-07-11 03:12 pm (UTC)In the case of my relationship with Juliet, I started out as a fan first, and quickly became a friend. As that friend I am of course behind whatever endeavor she is working on and hope for nothing but success.
I would do so for any of my friends, either here, at work, or whereever they come from.
Where LJ is concerned...at some point in time just about everyone on my list has shared something that puts us beyond the definition of just a 'fan' (as have I shared some things with my 'friends' here).
I know I have had this kick lately where the term 'friend' either just isn't enough or it seems too much, yet it seems almost insulting to refer to people as 'aquaintances' or such, especially when at some point or another they have taken you (or you have taken them) into some sort of confidence.
Turning again back to Juliet and her celebrity personae, mixing with 'fans' and her efforts to keep most from becoming friends, they do almost seem at odds. Part of what helped her in that regard were a few very clear boundaries regarding her private life and their inability to intermingle with it. I called that 'efforts' but it really wasn't an effort, it was just where the boundaries were, and only one person decided who was cross those boundaries. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. C'est la vie.