Dandelion-Utilitarian

Confidence carries people a long way in life, often before their skill is ever truly tested. It offers a unique kind of freedom from doubt and has a way of putting others at ease. Confidence is the tool of choice for many of the heroes we admire. When used appropriately, it’s a genuine virtue.

I’ve been thinking a lot about confidence as a resource lately, ever since I heard someone describe a genre of music as ‘confidence pop’. This catch-all term seemed intended as a slight, aimed mostly at artists like Meghan Trainor and Pink. However, I didn’t take it as the scathing critique it was meant to be — in fact, it struck me as quite a compliment. Since then, the idea of confidence as a resource has been quietly percolating at the back of my noodle stack.

In some obvious ways, I’m far less confident now than I once was. I used to make regular YouTube videos about Linux, technology, and gaming, often speaking with conviction about topics I only had a rudimentary understanding of. Yet, I still attracted plenty of clicks and, at one point, had almost 11,000 subscribers. Not exactly a huge channel, but certainly bigger than many who were probably more qualified than I was.

For a time, I was producing a video every day about different indie games, talking weekly about Linux as a platform on a podcast, and sharing my faux, shallow wisdom with anyone willing to trade a click. And honestly, I had a brilliant time doing it.

Over the last few years, though, I’ve learned to be more honest with myself about my value and skills. I don’t think I could bring myself to offer my unfiltered musings to the public in the way I once did. Now, whenever I write a post, I consider its audience, its value, and its intended impact.

My last update prior to this post was a sketchy drawing of a woman exiting a space pod, loosely inspired by the recent Blue Origin mission that had been all over social media. While I intended it to be topical, it was really just an interesting visual moment which I wanted to explore through drawing. The style was meant to roughly imitate the look of the classic Scottish comic ‘The Beano.’ The focus was on capturing playful visual forms, not creating a polished, serious piece. I wanted people to look at it and think, “That looks cool, that’s fun,” not take it as any kind of social commentary. And honestly, I think it was a success.

I’ve also recently posted short ‘micro post’ too— a collection of random musings about drawing software, pop culture, and writing habits. Each of these small updates was meant as a kind of noted musing, and hopefully, a future conversation starter for the few people who read my content here. Even the smallest of my posts has a purpose and intended value, however vague or modest.

In contrast, one of my most viewed YouTube uploads ever was titled “Raspberry Pi 3 running Ubuntu MATE” from back in 2016. It’s nine minutes and forty-four seconds long — and quite literally pointless. I was logged in via Remote Desktop to a well-documented SoC computer, using a well-known OS and desktop environment. There were probably a hundred videos better than mine posted months earlier. But in my hubris, I felt I would have some unique insight. That video now has 67,898 views and a 77% like rate. It is, objectively, one of the worst videos on the topic that exists.

However, a combination of my subscriber count and average view numbers meant it kept bobbing around people’s feeds because the algorithm decided I was a pretty safe bet. No one should have watched that video. They shouldn’t have pressed like. And they certainly shouldn’t have subscribed on its basis. Like most of my previous uploads, that video is now set to private on my channel, and I feel better for it.

To outsiders, my recent honesty about my history as a YouTuber — and my unwillingness to waste people’s time with future uploads — might seem like I’ve lost my confidence, or had some bad experience that warned me away from the platform.

The truth, however, is simpler: I’ve reached a place in life where I no longer seek validation through half-baked creative endeavours.

I always wanted to be the guy talking enthusiastically about the things he loved — but in reality, I became the badly informed, overly confident talking head with under-explored opinions, straw-man arguments, and almost no useful commentary at all.

When I explore my back catalogue of (mostly now private) videos, I’m often shocked at my bad takes, ashamed of my potty mouth, and regretful of my opinions.

Still, I don’t regret the kind people I met, the friends I made, or the strange chapter of my life where I genuinely believed I might make it as a YouTuber.

I’m quieter now. I’m more comfortable now — not being anyone of note. However small that notoriety once was, I’m better off without it.

I enjoy writing my books, overthinking things in my website articles, and feeling free to spend a long time unpacking a single thought (like this very post) without having to apologise for rambling.

This suits me better. It probably always did.

However, I have to admit — perhaps it is a confidence issue.

In a world where every YouTube video is lit like an art installation and shot on cameras that look like Hollywood movie rigs, I feel completely outpaced by what’s on offer. And honestly, I have no desire to sink my time into trying to catch up with a culture and a platform I don’t enjoy very much any more, and don’t actually think I could add value to. My time as a videographer has passed.

Confidence is at the root of it. Maybe it’s me who isn’t enough for the current YouTube landscape, and that I’m lying to myself just a little.

These days, I’m much more aware of my faults and weaknesses, and with that awareness has come a loss of the old confidence — the confidence to do things I know I can’t do well.

Perhaps there’s a fine line between a lack of confidence, and a confidence that I am found lacking.

For now, though, I’ll keep sharing my badly drawn art because I love making it.

I’ll keep writing my novels and posting my articles because I think I would go a little mad without this outlet.

And all the while, I’m confident that you are free to disregard my offerings — without contempt, without comment, and without malice.

That said, I’m also confident that those who do follow along, read, and ponder with me, will enjoy our time together — in this calm, pensive, and purposeful soup of ideas and noodles.