The Catastrophe of Virality

And why do we do anything at all.

As I write this I’m going viral. For something like the 10th time. Today it’s a 7-second TikTok of me yelling through the screen: “If you’re a straight male, and you’re excited about the new Taylor Swift album… let me know cuz me too, and I don’t have anyone to talk about it with.” Classic bait and switch. Pretty good, right?

Now what exactly is “viral” to me? I consider a post “viral" and feel mildly better about my chances of stardom whenever the majority of the interactions are from complete strangers. The Taylor Swift video currently has 20,000 views and 3,800 likes. I do not know 20,000 people. Bang. Viral. Easy.

But there are levels to this, of course. Not all virality is equal.

My most viral TikTok sits at 11,800,000 views, 5,128 comments, 31,000 saves, and 1,100,000 likes. Which means, hypothetically, that one million and one hundred thousand people agree with what I have to say.

But not really. Or just not that deeply. In this - my most viral video - I express that certain head attire makes you look like a tool. “If you wear a hat with the letters upside down, I know everything about you… and I don’t really like you.”

This video exposed me to another side of virality: hate comments. Half the comments were suggesting I use such a hat to cover my hairline, or that my pastel blue polo also revealed everything to know about me.

I was surprised watching these comments roll in mid-day. The video is 9 seconds long. I thought about it for no more than 9 seconds. I posted it the night before at 1AM, and admittedly - and visibly in the video - I was drunk. (Which is never an excuse for anything - I mean what I said.) I woke up and Internet strangers were yelling at me that I’m ugly and should shut up.

They even found my other videos and said my voice sucks and that I only play open chords and ohhh you play guitar this tells me everything I need to know about you. Nit-picky nonsense - haters hate, and they’re good at it.

There were 10 minutes when I laid face-up on the hardwood floor and wondered if I really was the pathetic loser they claimed. It almost got to me. I asked myself if this was the modern-day equivalent of a forced exile. If I was being sent to the leper colony. Ostracized. Napoleon shipped to St. Helena. Dante marched out of Florence.

Then I remembered I started it. I put some negative energy into the universe, and it came back at me. Karma, plain and simple. Negativity is what I deserved.

As surprised as I was by my run-in with Internet hate, I was further surprised by how quickly I stopped caring once I came to this realization. I was even proud. You’ve come so far. A couple thousand hate comments, and you go about your day not even bothered by it. This is the same kid scared to sing a year ago.

I checked my hairline in the mirror a couple times and re-evaluated the blue polo. Nah. I still like ‘em both. Deleted the TikTok app from my phone. Decided all future TikToks would be positive, non-disparaging. Nice. Guess that’s over with now.

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Let me preface with this: I always hated - and I still hate - when celebrities go on Oprah and complain that the burden of fame is so hard. And that we wouldn’t understand. They pour their hearts out, fighting tears back, explaining to us close-minded regular people that doing what you love, being admired by millions, and being filthy generationally rich are just too large of a burden to bear. And no one understands.

I hate it. So much. Especially the no one understands part. Begging the faceless masses to understand you, or understand anyone, is a fool’s errand.

I don’t sympathize - at all - with high-status I just want a normal life whimpering. If the one sacrifice of having a wide impact and unfathomable wealth is that strangers ask to take pictures with you on the street, that is a cost I would pay. That is a cost anyone would pay. I hope, one day, to pay it.

But I did fall victim, for a split second, to this mentality today. I have posted nearly every day for the past 8 months, (200+ videos in 225 days) and I have made $0 from TikTok. My life has not changed. Not positively anyway. The dopamine flood from thousands of notifications fogs my brain and ruins my daily focus. Some people have adapted to it but I haven’t yet. I usually delete the TikTok app after posting because I know it’s bad for my mind. If I don’t I’ll keep checking and checking and checking. Compulsively. It’s weakening my power of resistance. It’s eroding my discipline and altering my mood.

1,000 likes is the same - mentally - as 1,000,000 likes. Both are unfathomable. The human brain was not designed and is not yet conditioned to interact with 1,000+ people a day.

You can get caught up in it. The “like” sticks around longer than the person’s attention. In fact, the like stays there forever, while the person does not. Say for instance a beautiful girl likes your photo, and you’ve convinced yourself that you will sweep her away to the Italian countryside and marry her in urgency and live happily ever after. Here’s what actually happened: she laughed and then scrolled. And then liked anywhere from 1 to 100 other posts. From 1 to 100 other people. And forgot about yours. (Livvy Dunne liked one of my videos. What does that mean for me? Nothing. Livvy Dunne has no idea who I am.)

Try explaining this to a Founding Father. It does not make sense. You can potentially have 1,000,000 separate individuals interact with your image in the span of an hour. This power has never before existed in human history. I repeat, never before existed in human history. When I was born in 2001, these abilities did not exist to humans. Social media is God-like technology. And we carry it around, everywhere we go, in our pockets. FDR’s Fireside Chats did not have the reach that a Charli D’Amelio dancing video does.

People will get embarrassed that their post only received 17 likes. Our minds have been distorted to believe that 17 people is a small amount. Imagine if 17 people jumped you. Or if 17 people complimented your shoes. It would overwhelm you. 17 passerby saying a kind word to you would be a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon. You would remember it for the rest of your days.

But as today’s video went viral and the dopamine floodgates downpoured into my mind, I wondered if it was worth the cost. I wondered if professing myself as a Taylor Swift lover for thousands on the Internet to see was too far. I wondered if I was prostituting myself, selling my personality for cheap entertainment that disappears in a scroll, but lasts forever if anyone wants to find what’s attached to my name. It’s not that hard, it’s just fuckin’ confusing. What the hell am I doing this for?

Very rarely will you remember - and be impacted and moved by - a TikTok. And that’s what I thought to myself. The futility of it. How quickly the videos are gone and forgotten. Here’s what we already know: not all media is equal. And high circulation does not always equate to high impact.

[Sometimes it does, and there are obvious examples. The YouTube success of Zach Bryan’s Heading South launched his career, as did Post Malone’s Twitter virality with his first single White Iverson. Being viral on Vine 11 years ago means that someone still quotes you every day of their life. Road Work Ahead? I sure hope it does. Free shavacado. What’s 9+10? All those.]

This article may last in your mind throughout the day. But a good show can grip you for weeks. A great movie can guide your decisions for months. Lessons from a book can stay with you every day for the rest of your life.

So again, what’s the point of the small stuff?

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Summer’s almost over. I’m home in Gaithersburg right now. I walk to Carmen’s Italian Ice in the Kentlands, get a cherry gelati and stroll home. It’s a hot August night. People are out. Families sitting, couples walking, kids running. Pleasant neighborhood sounds. Pool splashes and scooters on sidewalks and birds singing lullabies. Socks on concrete, sandals in the grass. There are two elementary schoolgirls riding around on bikes. Speeding around on bikes. The smaller one waves to me, to show off that can ride with one hand. She calls out “Hi, Mister! Have a good rest of your night!” then pedals past. She calls me mister. How ridiculous is that.

The taller one, the leader of the two, says to the other that they should ride to “midtown,” which isn’t what it’s called, but that’s what everyone called it when we were that age. It’s where all the shops are, where I just walked from. I forgot it was “midtown.” And I forgot that I was once that age, flying around on bikes at summertime’s close.

I got home and re-entered the Internet again. Aaron Rodgers, now a Steeler, was photographed at practice today talking with retired Ben Roethlisberger. Two Super-Bowl winners in their 40s, chopping it up. There’s a comment with 500+ likes. I guess you could call that viral: “This shit means something to me man.”

Why am I trying to be a singer? Wouldn’t it be smarter to just go back to a real job? And what about the TikToks? All the fuckin’ TikToks? I hate TikTok. And I haven’t gotten anything out of it - what’s the point? All that time and effort, and what to show for it?

I went to this rising artist workshop in Nashville a couple months ago. I thought it was bullshit but I still went. Some industry veteran who was the manager for Motley Crue or some shit was hosting. He’d ask questions about our goals and yawn between disinterested vape hits about how they were alright. He liked my answer best. I said I wanted to play live more. Good, he said, then blew his blue mint smoke into the sky. Play live. Get in front of people. That’s what you’re trying to do. See if you connect.

I feel like an old man saying this, but the girl waving and calling me mister brought me great joy. And it was shorter than a TikTok. Why did she do it?

“Always, always remember that the reason that you initially started working was that there was something inside yourself that you felt, that if you could manifest it in some way, you would understand more about yourself and how you co-exist with the rest of society.”

- David Bowie

I guess I hope this shit means something to someone. I’m trying to see if I connect. Thank you for letting me.

- Chad