Secrets for the Mad

by Dodie Clark

  From the Disney Channel videos, I started finding and watching other people who made ‘vlogs’ and who had an audience. There was Shane Dawson and all of his friends, DaveDays, WhatTheBuck, Rhett and Link and then Charlieissocoollike, Lukeisnotsexy, Musicalbethan and the whole British crew – I’d watch them all religiously, absolutely infatuated with each of their worlds and desperate to break through the barrier and make contact with the side of the famous. I’d do anything to get their attention – even just thinking that their eyes had seen my username and that therefore I was somehow included in their memories was enough. They’d do livestreams and I’d change my font to a bright colour, type in all caps and absolutely spam the chat box, trying to shout above the other hundreds and hundreds of fans who were trying to get noticed. But it felt like I was drowned out, that we were all just screaming at someone who was untouchable. It really was as if they were living in a different world, and my quest to gain their attention was a subconscious need to prove that they were real. I guess I thought of them the same way as I did with characters in a cartoon, or series, and though they’d say that they ‘didn’t share everything online’ I was convinced, having absorbed their content so much, I knew them better than anyone.

  * * *

  In 2011 a particular favourite YouTuber of mine and the band he was in were doing a signing in London. I flipped out.

  I wrote a letter with a purple pen about how me and my little sister would dance around the house to his songs, wrapped a £20 note inside to buy the album, and travelled into London with a schoolfriend to spend the day queuing outside with hundreds of other fans. One girl told me she knew him, and that she’d hung out with him and his mum a few months ago. I stuck to her like glue.

  After hours of boasting to others about my knowledge of YouTubers and singing along to people struggling to play ukulele in the cold, it was our turn to head inside. As I handed a security guard my ticket, my heart rose to my throat, and I was suddenly worried I was going to vomit. We shuffled in and I saw three-dimensional, real faces of people I knew so well from a screen. They looked into my eyes and smiled and my mouth went dry and my legs went stiff and my brain started short circuiting and I stuttered a hello and shakily handed over my letter and tried to say something funny but it didn’t come out right and I gave them my CD to sign and one of them offered me a grape and I almost thought about taking one and not eating it so I could keep it forever and then the security hurried us along and they were already starting to say hello to the next group that came in so I said goodbye and none of them turned their heads and then the door closed behind us and it was over. I immediately burst into tears.

  Meeting someone who felt so special to me was honestly painful, and the feeling of being drowned out by other fans was amplified immensely in real life. I went over everything I said and did, regretting my awkward words and shaky hands, and I sank further away from the green grass world of the people I idolised. I was just another silly, cringey fangirl, and it hurt.

  So I wrote about it.

  I’m not quite sure

  what I should do,

  I’m ever so

  in love with you.

  Wine gums and juggling

  and haircuts and tea,

  and oh, my heart leaps each time you look at me.

  But I have to stop

  and clear my head.

  Your eyes don’t meet mine,

  they meet a camera instead,

  and even though I know you

  like you’re mine,

  I’m a stranger to you,

  a fan who screams all the time.

  But I say

  Charlieissocoollike, one day you’ll be my friend,

  and we’ll sing your duet and I will bet that my happiness will not

  end, but a million other people share this beautiful dream,

  so I’ll never be Miss Coollike after all, so it seems.

  Oh, the awkward endings and the ukulele,

  the mustache poems and the . . . (what rhymes with ukulele?)

  I know that we’d get along like a house on fire and it seems you agree,

  each time you smile.

  But I have to stop

  and clear my head.

  Your eyes don’t meet mine,

  they meet a camera instead,

  and even though I know you

  like you’re mine,

  I’m a stranger to you,

  a fan who squeals all the time.

  But I say

  Charlieissocoollike, one day you’ll be my friend,

  and we’ll sing your duet and I will bet that my happiness will not

  end, but a million other people share this beautiful dream,

  so I’ll never be Miss Coollike after all, so it seems.

  I’ve only met you once, and I acted like a fool,

  I was shaking like a leaf and you said ‘ahh, cool!’

  You looked at me and grinned in your very cool like way,

  I was imagining dopamine released inside your awesome brain,

  but as I left, I stared outside and hopefuls too who queued all day,

  my face would soon be forgotten, as would the others who feel the same way.

  And yet I still believe that you’ll remember me,

  so while I watch you every day, I guess I’ll still say,

  Charlieissocoollike, one day you’ll be my friend,

  and we’ll sing your duet and I will bet that my happiness will not

  end, but a million other people share this beautiful dream,

  so I’ll never be Miss Coollike after all, so it seems.

  I can’t even LOOK at this without gaining twenty chins from cringing so much. Beautiful dream?! Vom.

  But it matches up to my memory; my view of fame was still black and white, as I said before, and life had placed me in the less fortunate side. I’d forever be pining for attention from those ‘more important’ than me, and it hurt so much to feel as though I was just part of a statistic. But I used my pain to make something. I didn’t write it with any sort of goal; I suppose if there was one, it was for the other people in the queue. Of course I had a small hope that he’d find it, but that felt so impossible with all the years of reaching and failing. I clearly belonged in the unpopular side of the world – school had also made that clear – and so I settled there.

  The YouTuber I met found my song about him, and commented something kind about how he was ‘definitely going to remember me now!’ My dad shouted at me for filling the house with screams – but I’d done it. I’d somehow pushed through to the other world – it did exist! And even though it was something so small, I felt like I was a part of it.

  I kept writing and making videos. There were a few people who had found my song about being a fan, and I’d notice them commenting on each of my posts to say that they’d shared it with their best friend, or their mum, and we’d all write back to each other, expressing excited mutual thanks. The amount of people watching the things I made grew, but I tried my best to reply to every kind comment anyone had left. The popular boys in my school would tease me – ‘Look, it’s Doddleoddle! Hey, are you famous, Dodie?’ – and they’d play my videos on the projector while I squealed at them to turn it off, secretly excited at the idea that, to them, a thousand views meant fame. I don’t know if it did; I still felt just as far away from the green grass lifestyles of truly famous people as I ever had been. I wasn’t being stopped on the street, and I certainly wasn’t rich, but I did have a little community of people who would cover my songs, write me letters, and even draw pictures of me.

  I am still confused about the definition of fame, but I know that it is certainly nowhere near as black and white as I used to think. The world seems to think fame comes along with perfection, money and happiness, but that isn’t true at all (not that it isn’t fun, of course; but the part I enjoy is the connection, and recognition and appreciation for what I make, not just the label or the idea that people would recognise my face). Th
e point is, according to my younger self, I live on the other side of the grass now. It should be bright green, and all of my problems should be gone, but as I was growing, the thick line between what I thought was fame and not fame kept rising as my life didn’t match the expectations I’d had for it all. I sat in this weird middle ground, and I started to realise that the step after achieving fame is maintaining relevancy. If you make fame your goal, you will never truly be happy because you will constantly be reaching for something that isn’t sustainable.

  I strove for fame because I was desperate for it to make me happy, but in doing so I accidentally found what really made me feel fulfilled: learning, growing, creating and sharing. Still, I am proud I got to experience everything my younger self had ached for. I’ve played giant shows to people who sing my lyrics loudly with me, I get stopped in the street multiple times if I’m walking around a central area, and I’ve met thousands and thousands of people who have handed me heartfelt letters after waiting in queues, just as I did in 2011. Whenever people’s hands shake, or they tell me how strange it is to see me in real life, I want to tell them, ‘I know! I know it so well. But believe me, I am not magical! I still get anxious, I still make mistakes, and I too still wait in queues for a chance to say hi to someone who I respect.’ There’s never enough time, and I can never find the perfect words in the moment to thank them for listening to me, but I try my best, because I am so grateful.

  Life didn’t gift me with fame when I was younger (thank goodness), despite my bitterness about feeling as though I was owed it for some reason. It is important to remember that my goal should always be to improve, whether that is artistically or as a person. I didn’t understand for a long time that that happens first, and then fame might come along with it, rather than fame automatically making people great. People might stop listening and that’s okay, because happiness should not come from the amount of people who know you, but it can come from pride in your work. And, as it turns out, if you enjoy what you make, there will most likely be other people who do too.

  COOKING

  ‘HELLO! HELP!’ you say.

  ‘What the heck do people eat when they live somewhere far away from parental guardianship and they have to feed themselves?’ you say.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love frozen fish fingers and ketchup, but I haven’t actually pooped in three days and I don’t think I’m putting enough good stuff into my body but I don’t know how to make it taste good!’ you say.

  HAVE NO FEAR.

  Despite me being an absolute mess in all other domestic categories, I’m not too shabby at cooking. I think part of it is because I possibly burned off most of my taste buds eating fizzy sweets when I was younger, and so I pretty much chuck every sort of seasoning I can in because that’s the only way I can taste something.

  Also, cooking is my down time. It’s a mindful task; you have no option but to live in the moment, otherwise you’ll accidentally chop a finger off. But it’s such a wonderful way to unwind – to take in the smells of fruits, herbs, garlic, and if you’re making a meal for other people too, you get the reward of hearing happy munches and the satisfaction of gratitude after your care.

  A HANDY SHOPPING LIST:

  * oil to cook stuff in. Olive oil or coconut oil is perfect!

  * bread, eggs, milk, butter. Or your flatmate will not be best pleased

  * vegetables! Onions, peppers, courgettes (zucchini), tomatoes, aubergines (eggplant) for frying, then lettuce, spring onions, cucumbers and carrots for snacking and salads. Avocado if you’re feeling millennial

  * pasta, potatoes, rice. Oh, beautiful carbohydrates

  * generic tomato pasta sauce, pesto – stuff to chuck on said beautiful carbohydrates

  * salt and pepper, for when everything goes wrong and you can trick everyone into thinking it’s delicious

  * meat! Or fake meat!

  BREAKFASTS

  HEALTHY BREAKFAST WRAP

  You will need!

  * wholewheat tortilla wrap (apparently wholewheat is healthier. I’m not too sure why – but honestly I prefer the flavour. It’s breadier.)

  * eggs

  * chopped veggies! Onions, peppers, courgettes, etc – mushrooms if you want, but goodness WHY?

  * vegetarian mince (or normal mince, of course, but I hate cooking with meat)(ground beef/vegetarian substitute)

  * tomato pasta sauce

  * cheese

  * avocado and lettuce

  * ketchup and hot sauce if you would like!

  1. Scramble those eggs! Crack them in a bowl, whisk them up and then pour them into a pan that’s been melting some butter. If you leave these on a low heat, they can cook slowly, which makes them even more delicious while you do everything else. Make sure you stir them every now and again though! And don’t forget to add some salt and pepper. Bland eggs is a great band name but not good for breakfast.

  2. Fry the veggies and the mince until they’re almost soft, and then add in a spoonful of tomato pasta sauce.

  3. Microwave your tortilla wraps so they’re nice and warm! Grate your cheese, slice up your avo, and then bring everything out in this-looks-fancy-but-mostly-assemble-it-yourself style. Laugh at how your friends fail to estimate how much can fit in one burrito and enjoy your tasty breakfast!

  POACHED EGGS AND SALAD

  This is so simple it doesn’t really need a ‘you will need’ list. Here’s how to poach an egg!

  Bring some water to the boil, and then turn it off, so the water is still. Add in a tiny capful of white wine vinegar (no worries if you don’t have that – it apparently just helps to keep the egg in place) and carefully crack an egg into the middle. Then, leave it sitting in the hot water for about seven minutes. While that’s doing its thing, toast some wholewheat bread and prepare your salad: chop up some lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, avocado and green onions, and mix it all about in a big bowl with some lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper. Arrange this how you would like on your plate, and then grab a slotted spoon and carefully fish out your egg. It SHOULD be the perfect amount of soft, so slop it on your toast and salad, set up your phone for a slow mo/boomerang and cut into your egg for that mouth-watering yolk goop.

  LUNCHES

  HOMEMADE RAMEN

  You will need!

  * noodles of some kind! Rice noodles, ramen noodles, tagliatelle – whichever you fancy

  * yellow, red, or orange peppers (is it just me or do green peppers taste slightly more bitter?)

  * red chillies, garlic, ginger, coriander, baby spinach, spring onions

  * spinach

  * vegetable stock cube

  * lime!

  1. Boil your noodles in just enough water to cover them. Leave them to cook for about eight minutes while you chop up everything else, and then crumble in a vegetable stock cube to make it salty.

  2. Add in the peppers and chillies, cook for a further few minutes, and then scrape in the chopped garlic, ginger and coriander. Cook for another few minutes until everything is soft, and then turn off the heat and add in a few handfuls of spinach.

  3. Roll your juicy lime (I beg your pardon), cut it in half, and then squeeze it through your hands into the mixture. Stir well and serve your spicy, salty, tangy sweet noodles! Yum!

  MAC AND CHEESE

  Again, this one doesn’t really need a list of ingredients. Just make sure you have cheese.

  Boil some water, crack in some sea salt and pour in your macaroni. While that cooks, melt a chunk of butter in a pan. Add a few tablespoons of flour till it turns into a weird paste (a ROUX if you want to feel French), and then pour in milk a bit at a time, to make a creamy sauce. Add some salt and pepper, and then add a LOT of grated cheese and just a wee bit of mustard. Boom! Add in your drained pasta, and serve with garlic bread and salad to make you feel less guilty.

  DINNERS

  Delicious evening meals with friends

  You will need!

  * a high street nearby with a choice of many restaurant
s.

  Alternatively,

  * a kind pal to cook for you. For example, a Daniel J. Layton.

  (Dan will take it from here!)

  VEGGIE BOLOGNESE FOR FOUR

  The ultimate comfort food. You’ve had a bad day, you’re feeling a little off kilter and you’re looking for familiar, welcoming flavours to transport you to tranquil zen . . . ness – you can’t do better than this.

  You will need!

  * olive oil

  * a red onion

  * a clove of garlic. Make it a hefty one because garlic is delicious.

  * an unsettlingly phallic carrot

  * a handful of mushrooms (Dodie, don’t cut that bit – they’re delicious and you’re wrong)

  * a glass of red, red wine (optional but worth it)

  * 350g portion of veggie mince

  * 400g can chopped tomatoes

  * balsamic vinegar (we’re getting fancy, mate)

  * dried oregano

  1. Finely chop your onion. This might make you cry, so feel free to let out actual emotions and then pretend you’re actually fine. Then compose yourself while dicing the carrot and slicing the mushrooms.

  2. Drizzle some oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat, then fry the onion and carrot, until the onions have softened and turned a delightful pink. Crush in the garlic and add the mushrooms, cooking for a bit before pouring in your wine and letting it simmer for just under five minutes until it’s cooked down a bit. You’ll have a load of wine left in the bottle. Down it. (Don’t.) (Unless you want to.) (No, actually, don’t.)

  3. Add the veggie mince and give it a good stir, then pour in the chopped tomatoes. Half fill the can with some water, then swill it (gross) so you get all the tomato-y goodness before that goes in the pan too. Stir it to make a sauce, bring it to the boil, and enjoy the bubbles before lowering the heat and letting it simmer until it thickens slightly (about ten minutes).