Good morning, Hank. It's Tuesday. The other day I was in a movie theater and a young person came up to me and said, "I don't know whether to say hi." And this is a video about whether you should say hi. Years ago, I remember complaining to my best friend Chris that I couldn't go to Target without getting recognized, which is a small problem in the scheme of things, but but is a problem for reasons I'll get into. But anyway, I was like, "Man, every single time I go to Target, someone recognizes me." And Chris was like, "Yeah, every single time I go to Target, someone also recognizes me because we went to middle school together or I played golf with them two years ago or whatever. You don't see me complaining about it." And this is a great point, right? Regardless of whether we have public lives, we all get recognized in public. Now, I don't know about you, but for me, there's a certain distance between the way I experience myself and the way the world experiences me. Like when I'm alone or in the house with my family, I don't feel particularly self-conscious because I don't feel particularly self-aware. I'm not usually thinking about my job or what I'm wearing or whether my hair looks okay because I'm experiencing myself from within rather than from without. And I think this is how we live most of our lives, right? Like Annie Dillard once wrote, "We live half our waking lives and all our sleeping lives in some private, useless, and insensible waters we never mention or recall." Except I don't really find these waters useless. I kind of find them nourishing. They give me the strength and the energy to eventually emerge from the waters and become aware, observe myself and the world around me with acuity. If I was always hyper-aware of myself, I would be exhausted all the time, not to mention a bit narcissistic. Oh, no. Ugh, that's not normal. I remember the first time someone recognized me in public not because they went to middle school with me, but because of my job. I was on the train in New York City. This was before I started making YouTube videos, and a young woman said, "Are you John Green?" And I was like, "Yes, I am." And she was like, "I read your book Looking for Alaska." And I said, "Thank you." And then she said, "I feel like I should ask for your autograph." So I signed a little notebook that she had with her. This was back in the days before the iPhone when the autograph was sort of the celebrity proof of life rather than the selfie. And I spent the whole day after that encounter absolutely buzzing. Like I am sure that it meant more to me than it meant to the person who recognized me. I was just delighted because we all want outside affirmation for our work. We all want to be acknowledged and maybe even celebrated for doing a good job and that's what it felt like that morning after the subway. It felt like I was doing a good job. And it still feels that way when people recognize me. I am super grateful when people come up to me and say that my work has meant something to them. So the short answer to whether you should say hi at the movie theater is yes, please say hi. I would like to take a selfie with you if you want to take a selfie and I am very, very grateful that you care about my work. But something else is happening too in that moment which is that we are both being snatched out of the insensible waters and suddenly becoming hyper aware of ourselves. I cease to be me, a dimly defined creature I am too busy being to carefully consider and suddenly become John Green, the novelist and YouTuber. We are both suddenly aware that we are being perceived and being perceived is always a trip, right? Like it's like waking from a dream and not being sure which world is the real one, the world in which I am myself or the world in which I am John Green. Now often of course I am desperate to be perceived, right? Like I unambiguously want everyone in Birmingham, Alabama, New York City and 17 other cities to come see me on tour for the Hollywood Ending Tour. And the tour would not be fun, not for me and not for the audience if I wanted to be invisible. And while I feel so conflicted about the idea of celebrity that I wrote a book about it and while I did not particularly enjoy my time near the center of US pop culture when like Kim Kardashian was tweeting about me, I love meeting Nerdfighters. I really, really do. And so it is both, it is both uncomfortable to be awoken from the insensible waters and suddenly aware and it is a gift to meet people. Similarly, it is both uncomfortable and a gift to run into someone from middle school at Chipotle. Now, certainly you shouldn't feel obligated to say hi. You might be like, "Ah, he's with his family." And that's fine. But also, you should feel free to say hi. But of course, doing so will wake us both from a dream. None of which is what I said to the young woman at the movie theater. What I said was, "Yeah, of course. Hi, it's nice to meet you." Now, of course, Hank, these days half the time I'm recognized it's as you. Like, I remember I was in Philadelphia on the Everything Is Tuberculosis Tour and I was coming back from the pharmacy one night and somebody just shouted, "Hank Green!" And I waved so as to say, "Yes, it it is I, the science one." It is always a pleasure to take credit for your work. Anyway, I hope to see lots of y'all on tour. Tickets in the doobly-doo and a few of you at Target. Hank, I'll see you on Friday.