Photo by wmmarc

This past Saturday night might go down as one of the more surreal moments in my new media life. I arrived at the first annual Streamy Awards here in Los Angeles, CA with a slight sense of trepidation. On one hand I was honored and completely humbled to be a part of entertainment history as new media took its first shaky steps into the Hollywood wilderness. On the other hand, I felt like the overprotective mother of a promiscous tween watching her baby hike up her skirt before running for the school bus.

"And you may find yourself in another part of the world..."

As Steve and I drove into the guarded parking lot, my first thought was "wow, they're beautiful." I looked around at the stunning men and women sauntering their way toward the red carpet as flash after sharp flash documented their arrival. I couldn't help feeling like a fraud yet eager to play the part. What was happening to me? How did I get here?

"Letting the days go by, letting the water hold me down..."

After getting our credentials at the sign-in table, we sardined into the mouth of the red monster carpet. We waited there for half an hour, bypassed by PR reps making sure their clients were interviewed and photographed. Confused, we looked at each other and realized we should have paid someone fifty bucks to pretend to be our PR rep.

Photo by George Ruiz

"And you may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful house..."

I did my very best sauntering into the Kodak theater while I marveled at the stage. Wow, tonight, this was our Babylon. We sat, and laughed, snickered, and clapped. We cheered for our friends, especially the independent web producers battling against those who would otherwise be considered independent, were they not here. Each award and speech given stamping itself in time, solidifying new media's first awkward steps into the entertainment world. Every meeting and argument had somehow brought me to this moment, this very torn applause.

"Under the rocks and stones, there is water underground..."

As I made my way backstage to present the award for "Best Writing in a Dramatic Series" I passed old hands and new. Those who had been in the game for years and have done everything in their power not to grow weary, and the new creative blood excited that time and place had somehow miraculously matched up with intention. I waited my turn as one of the producers of the event balanced on his own tight-rope, wrung his hands and asked how everything was going "out there." I peaked out behind the curtains... all smiles.

Photo by wmmarc

"And you may ask yourself, where does that highway go?"

Back at my seat, I waited for our category nomination. For about five solid seconds I was in denial as they announced that EPIC FU had won for Best Hosted Web Series. We were up against tough competition. My heart began pounding, everything echoed, and it felt like the world had become filtered through misaligned sheets of onion paper. A flood of images with each step: leaving New York, juggling full-time jobs, organizing new media meetups and events, hustling our way into meetings, creating a show, 4am editing sessions, money worries, wondering if we were playing in a make-believe world, YouTube comments...

"And you may ask yourself, am I right? ...am I wrong?"

I deferred to Steve as I weighed in the moment. The award was heavy in more than weight. He talked about remembering and paying tribute to people like Ze Frank and shows like Rocketboom (and those before them), who paved the way and inspired us. I think I smiled and nodded, thanked our friends and looked back, blankly, at the audience. As we walked off stage, Steve looked at me and said "Was I being too preachy? Now I'm paranoid."

"And you may tell yourself, my God!...what have I done?"

After the glitz, and drinks, and afterparty... after getting back home and having a few days pass... after reading intelligent debate online as to what an event like the Streamys means to the direction of new media, I've come to the conclusion that if nothing else, this land we've all been harvesting for the past decade (not forgeting the early days of dial-up and streaming videos) is full of intensely passionate people. Whether it's the actor/director/writer who can't get a job in traditional Hollywood, the entreprenuer who is using video to promote their work, the artist experimenting with the form itself, the activist using video to bring a cause to light, or the new mom sending video of her newborn to family and friends -- we all have the ability to tell our story.

Photo by Beth McDonald

"Same as it ever was...same as it ever was..."

Looking at all of the photos from the Streamys of people I admire, of my friends, of myself - we all look happy. We could have chosen to stay home that Saturday night... but we chose to come out. We chose to celebrate. We chose to support each other and the work we've labored over. Are we recreating the Hollywood monster? Well, if the monster is a monster who needs recognition and validation for the work it has labored over, if it is the monster of ideas and creation, then yes. But as long as the internet is free, so is the monster. Our monster is not behind a walled garden, our monster is constantly recreated with a great story, a camera and an internet connection. As long as that is true, and as long as we keep the conversation open, our monster is pretty bad ass.

So thank you Drew Baldwin, Brady Brim-DeForest, Joshua Cohen, Marc Hustvedt, and Jamison Tilsner for a great event. The first steps are never easy, and often times very awkward, but you made us all gather in celebration, which is a pretty great thing.