I would like to take a moment to thank the young people of America (and the rest of the world) for your thoughtful responses to my question from last week (why do you all want to be so famous?). I am again struck by the facts that A. the young people of America (and the rest of the world) are smarter and more interesting than is generally acknowledged, and also B. I have better readers than any of the other authors (yes, Maureen Johnson. Even you).

So now that you have all dealt with the topic so subtly and thoughtfully in comments, I will now unfairly simplify your answers into several dubiously selected categories.

Why the Young People of the World Want to Be Famous, According to the Young People of the World (as overly simplified by former young person John Green)

1. I want to be remembered after I am gone/make an impact on the world.

This seemed to be the most common response, and fair enough. The problem here, to be frank, is that you will not be remembered after you are gone, at least not for very long. Also, celebrity seems a poor way to maximize your remembered-time. Like, let us compare a hypothetical 40-year-old high school teacher with Puck from the Real World San Francisco:

Let's assume they'll both live for 80 years. The teacher retires at 65. When she dies, her last five classes will be between the ages of 32 and 37. Many of those students will remember her for their entire lives; some will even tell stories about her to their children. So it's reasonable to assume that a fair number of non-relatives will remember the teacher (fondly, no less!) for at least 50 years after her death, giving her a total 'lifespan' of 130 years.

Now, let's look at Puck. Most members of the youth of America are saying right now, "Who is Puck? The Real World had a season in San Francisco? John Green is so old." Now, I will admit that Puck is likely to be remembered, in at least a hazy way, by many people of my generation and perhaps even those born ten years after me. But by the time Puck is 65, no one under the age of 40 will have the slightest clue who he is. Awareness of Puck outside of direct descendants and possibly one or two future scholars of reality television has a very low chance of lasting more than 100 years.

So basically, if you want to be remembered, you are far better off teaching than being on television. (You are also probably better off teaching than writing novels, also; for a rigorous analysis I would have to call on the assistance of Brotherhood 2.0 Resident Mathematician Daniel Biss.)

But look, regardless, time is going to swallow you up. (This is the theme of Katherines.) That's a hard thing to accept but sort of inevitable.


2. You can make a bigger impact when you are famous.

I would strenuously argue that this is not, in fact, true. Like, here is an example: An overwhelming percentage of famous people in America wanted John Kerry to be elected President in 2004. And in the end, I think their support of Kerry either had no impact, or else it had a slightly negative impact.

(I will admit that famous people can make an impact on a lot of people, just because they have the ear of a lot of people, whereas non-celebrities can't. But because of the lack of intimacy, the impact is generally pretty small and passes quickly.)


3. John, you clearly want to be/are famous. Why don't YOU explain it?

For the record, I'm not famous and don't want to be. But I have always cared too much about doing work that gets recognized, and about people liking that work. For me, it is an extension of having always wanted people to like me, and to approve of me, and not make fun of me, and not pick me last for flag football, and not call me names. I came to the conclusion when I was, like, eight that while no one would ever like me, I might conceivably make something that people would like. Hence the writing. And the vlogging.

The reasoning behind all that is foolishness, of course--but it's a powerful foolishness.