Good morning, Hank. It's Tuesday. The U.S. is having an election today. Please vote if you can, I already did, but this is not a video about the election.

This is a video about the fact that you, Hank, posted a video on Sunday, which is not your video day. You posted an extra vlogbrothers video?

I don't understand, it's like you're trying to get extra credit in vlogbrothers class, even though you already have an A!

But it was a very interesting video, and it made me wonder why I'm still doing this. Like, why I'm still making YouTube videos after almost 20 years, even though the vast majority of my colleagues, by choice or otherwise, have moved on to other things.

And more to the point, should this be viewed as a success or as a failure? Like, have I shown remarkable longevity or remarkable creative stasis?

So, first off, I'm pretty sure I'm not still doing it for the money, because I don't make much. I make about $25,000 a year to help out with Crash Course, which affords me the uniquely American luxury known as health insurance. But other than that, I haven't gotten paid to make YouTube videos in a very long time.

Also, I have enough money, and once you have enough, there's no reason to have more. Like, this is a common cultural misunderstanding, but in The Hobbit, Smaug sitting on his piles of gold and jewels and whatnot is not actually the good guy.

And speaking of feeling the whole “if I just had a little more of it," another reason people do this job is attention and the pleasure of being liked by strangers, which, for me anyway, was a huge motivator.

I want to be liked way more than I want money. I want everyone on this planet to like me. But of course, seeking that attention and the affirmation of strangers comes with at least two problems.

First, the more people who like you, the more people who will also dislike you and say things like “You just have a very punchable face. I don't even know why I don't like you, but I don't.”

And you will always pay more attention to those voices because you want to be universally beloved, and the lack of universality will eat away at you all the time. And if you're not careful, you will come to entirely understand yourself through the lens of these people who don't like you because you're so desperate for them to like you, and then, you will kind of hate yourself.

And your obsession with your public reputation means that your happiness and fulfillment as a human being is not just dependent upon other people, but dependent upon the people who are least inclined to like you. Or maybe that's just me.

Secondly, none of these people know you. They know the idea of you that you put forward. They know your life in little snippets.

They hear perf- They hear- They hear you- They hear you perfectly edited when- The video- They hear you perfectly edited, even though when you- They hear- They- They hear you- They hear you perfect- They hear you perfectly edited, even though when you actually record, the video takes, not like- They hear you- They hear you perfectly edited, even though when you actually record, the video takes not four minutes, but 40. 

And the longer this goes on with the inevitable discontinuity between your public self and your private self, the weirder it gets.

John Updike called celebrity “a mask that eats the face." And even with my minimal encounters with celebrity, I find that to be the case.

So while I certainly craved fame when I was younger and there are aspects to it that I appreciate and am grateful for, gray-haired 47-year-old me does not particularly want to be famous, and especially does not want to be more famous, because like, I've been near enough the top of that mountain to know there's just not much oxygen up there.

So I definitely don't keep going for money and I don't think I keep going for the likes.

Now I do enjoy making videos, the writing and editing of them, but I don't need to do it. Like, I need to write novels. I would write stories even if I knew no one would read them. It's not just a hobby for me, it's an imperative part of being alive. And like, I just don't need to make YouTube videos. Not, not in that way.

I think I go on partly out of obligation, which has a negative connotation, but I don't think it should. Like, being part of a mutually-obligated web of humanity is good news.

Dozens of people work for Complexly, our educational media company. Dozens more work for Good.Store, our e-commerce company.

By the way, Good Store can solve all of your holiday gift-giving needs, from soap to socks to undies to coffee to tea, and with amazing gift bundles! Plus, there's an extra special holiday glow because 100% of the profit goes to charity, so you know that your gift giving is also doing some good in the world.

I feel obligated to say that! I feel obligated to the people who make amazing stuff and to the work in Sierra Leone and Lesotho that we're trying to do, and I think those people who work there also feel obligated to me and to their work, and that's, I think, good.

Through that web of obligation, we make educational resources like Crash Course, which has helped educate hundreds of millions of people, and we create Good Store, which has donated over $8 million to support stronger healthcare systems.

But to be honest, I don't even think that's my primary obligation. I think I go on mostly because I feel obligated to and love Nerdfighteria.

I don't so much enjoy making videos as I greatly enjoy what the videos make, which is Nerdfighteria—everything from tuberculosis activism to Pizzamas memes to literal marriages.

I know Nerdfighteria would be weaker if I stopped making videos, and frankly, that is my priority. How can I live in the world with some stress, but hopefully not too much, while still being a Nerdfighter and still contributing to Nerdfighteria and helping the community to be strong and do awesome stuff together?

Now, I know I won't always make YouTube videos. Things end. Things should end. But for now, I like making videos because I love Nerdfighteria. And also Hank, because I love getting to talk to you once a week. Once a week, right? Not twice a week. That's what hankschannel is for. I'll see you on Friday.