Brand Me Famous

Have you ever Googled your own name? Come on, just admit it: You’ve indulged in the ultimate narcissistic pastime, haven’t you? Well I have done it…several times, in fact – each time hoping for a different result.

I’m the only Tanya Nel I know, which used to make me feel unique and rather special. However, I discovered that there is in fact an entire army of Tanya Nels out there, when I Googled my name. And, horror of horrors, they all seem to be more “famous” than I am. Every few months I repeat the process, hoping that my name will appear at the top of the search results list, along with an extensive list of commendations on my extremely important contribution to this world.

Surely I deserve some praise for my generosity. For example, the fact that I pay a small fortune to car guards every day (for foreign readers who may not know what car guards are: car guards wear bibs, give gap-toothed smiles, and make grasping gestures with their hands – yes, I know this sounds like a description of a baby, but the difference is that a car guard expects to be paid for this behaviour). Surely I deserve some Internet recognition for my contribution to world peace. For example, I don’t have any nuclear weapons in my back yard, which is more than American president Barack Obama can say, and he’s just been awarded a Nobel Peace Prize.

Andy Warhol predicted that in future everybody would be famous for 15 minutes. I first became aware of fame when Britney Spears released her first album (a multi-platinum seller) at age 16. I was 23 years old at the time and experienced my very first bout of depression, when I realized that a teenager was more successful and making more money than I ever would in my entire life. It probably had something to do with the fact that she danced suggestively in a school dress and pigtails – I’ve considered doing the same, but Teasers strip club is the only venue willing to host my performance.

The fame phenomenon continued to grow since then; everybody wanted to stake their 15-minutes-of-fame claim. Thanks to the Internet this became possible for mere mortals. The concept of creating a personal brand and becoming visible on the Internet has become a major priority for most people.

One way to become visible is by joining a social network. My first entry into the world of Internet social networking was via Facebook. Initially I was overwhelmed by insecurity: what photo should I display as a profile image? Perhaps a photo of myself surrounded by friends, to show how popular I am. Or a particularly sexy photo, to make my ex-boyfriends squirm with regret. Once I chose the profile photo, I had to deal with the calamitous reality that I had a pathetic number of Facebook friends. What would people think? I frantically searched for every person I ever knew in my life, hoping they would accept my friend request.

Internet visibility is about much more than just social networking; it’s about making yourself as desirable as possible. The aim is to get people interested in you, your skills, your product, or whatever else you’re trying to “sell” via your Internet image. The Internet is a fantastic tool. Unfortunately it’s also a source of endless BS – searching for factual information on the Internet is a bit like shopping at a second-hand clothes shop: you have to schlep through a ton of crap to find a gem.

I love using e-mail and the Internet. For one, I’ve made lots of new Nigerian friends, who’ve promised to send me millions of dollars in exchange for a small initial administrative fee – I’m still waiting for the millions to roll in, but I’m absolutely sure it will happen. I’m also grateful for all the spammers, including American agencies that send me weekly Green Card lottery applications (I wonder whether they would stop if they knew I had Muslim friends). Aah, the Internet is such a friendly place, filled with so many helpful, generous people.

Now I’m off to post another pointless status update on one of several social networks - I know my friends and followers can’t wait to read that I’ve just eaten broccoli for dinner and that I have a foot fungus. But which social network will it be? MySpace? Twitter? Facebook? Or maybe all 3? Yes, I think I’ll settle for My Twit Face.

Howareyou?

In South Africa we have this habit of automatically saying “Hi, howareyou?” when we meet people. The usual response: “Fineandyou?” We don’t think about it, we don’t actually care about the other person’s response; we just say it and get it over with. Sometimes we eagerly skip straight to the response, without waiting for the other person to first inquire into our well-being (“Hi, fineandyou?”), which causes a moment of social discomfort for both parties.

Occasionally you’ll greet an elderly relative and they’ll respond with: “I’m okay,” (whiny tone of voice) “I’m just having trouble with my knees.” (Groan, sigh, knee rub, headshake) “I think it’s the weather. My joints always complain when …” Two seconds into the monologue they’ve already lost me – depression hits me and I start longing for a Minora blade and a hot bath.

In the 80’s Dale Carnegie Fever hit the world. Everybody read his book “How to win friends and influence people” and memorized his social guidelines. The first rule was to smile when speaking to someone. So, people spent hours in front of the mirror trying to coax their lemon-sucking lips into a warm smile. Then they went out into the world, applying this and other techniques on everyone they encountered. The result was astounding: Everyone smiled back. Of course they did not consider the fact that all the other people were also following Carnegie’s guidelines. So, suddenly the world was full of smiling people, who made each other feel great, in a warm and fuzzy kind of way.

The Carnegie memo was sent out to everyone whose business required dealing with other people (unfortunately a major administrative error resulted in the memo not reaching the Civil Service). Sales reps, estate agents and business executives flocked to Dale Carnegie seminars. It turned out that you could make a lot of money out of people, if you managed to make them feel warm and fuzzy.

The Carnegie memo finally caught the attention of politicians. The days of ruling a country with an iron fist were over. The public wanted politicians who cared about them. Suddenly politicians were flashing brilliant smiles, doing victorious air-punches, hugging babies and patting disabled people on their heads (with gloves on – it may be contagious).

And so it was that we managed to create a world full of caring optimists, who said all the right things at the right time. It was during this era that visiting a shrink became a favourite pastime. The reason was simple: we were no longer allowed to have authentic relationships with people; we could no longer express our real feelings; we were expected to always be happy and “genuinely” interested in other people. In short, we were focused on other people’s happiness, rather than our own. So, a shrink became an essential ingredient in many people’s lives.

Sadly the Carnegie philosophy is still alive and well today, two decades after its introduction to an unsuspecting world. In essence I have no problem with optimism and making others feel good about themselves. It’s admirable, but only when it’s genuine, and when it’s not being used to manipulate people. I find that I’ve become very suspicious of people who are always happy and smiling. I can’t help but think: “What do they want from me? What are they hiding?”

I while back I watched the Oprah Show, which discussed the secret depression and unhappiness many people are suffering from. People stated how their friends, colleagues and family believed that they had the perfect lives. Outwardly their lives seemed perfect, yet all kinds of trouble were brewing and stewing below the surface. Every now and then one will read an article about a husband who killed his entire family or a child who shot pupils at a school. Usually the article includes a comment from a friend along the lines of: “He was such a nice man/ boy. I don’t know what could have caused him to do such a thing.” In desperation they’ll try to blame it on violent video games or Marilyn Manson.

The reality is that we are all carrying a heavy burden of secret fears, pain and depression. Yet, we are not allowed to express it. We’re forced to suppress it, like a giant pimple that grows and builds pressure just under the skin. Until one day a single event causes the pimple to burst to the surface, spilling all its ugliness out into the world.

I’ve decided not to let that happen to me. I’ll remain an optimist, but may occasionally choose to let off some steam. So, next time you say “Hi, howareyou?” don’t be shocked when I respond with: “Well, I’ve got a giant hemorrhoid and I hate my non-existent calf muscles.”