A while ago (almost a year and a half ago, actually. I’m weeping at the passage of time as I write this), I wrote a post about social media and how it largely irks me, though I have yet to find a way to escape these shackles with which I am bound.
I’m happy to admit that my sentiments haven’t changed and I’m still a bitter old lady waving her cane around. I guess the youth I complain about also includes my own generation to an extent (though my smile lines and diminishing metabolism would like to disagree) because we pretty much still also shape what the future will be like.
Social media is a little different, though.
I think it’s always influenced by the youngest. I’m slowly withering away and there’s a reason I have no idea how to do Tik Tok dances; I still mourn the loss of “buffting” and I like thin eyebrows. The problem with the youngest ducklings, those spring chickens, is that they’re a group of conflicted people who don’t really know what they stand for – through no real fault of their own. Growing up in the age of social media means you’re constantly ingesting new information at rapid speed every day; you never had time to form your own opinions before thousands of others were thrust upon you (in Freudian terms, you kissed goodbye to the id at birth). Even before you made a Twitter account, the opinions you heard from others were shaped by recycled opinions they read online; there’s little authenticity in anything and validation is the goal. You melt at the touch of any sort of offence (see: snowflake), and simultaneously like to compensate for this fragility by going a thousand steps too far and making disgusting jokes under the guise of ‘I just have a dark sense of humour’. No, you don’t. You’re confused.
I’ve revisited my old post in celebration of Social Media day, and I’ve decided to give my two penneth again now that I’m a little older, not much wiser, and a bit less angry – but lockdowns forced me to spend an obscene amount of time online so I’m now obviously an expert in the field.
Let’s discuss. Read more
Unpopular opinion: personality matters more than looks
Unpopular opinion: murder is bad
Unpopular opinion: water is wet
Sorry, just highlighting all the unpopular opinions I’ve seen just to emphasise that what I’m about to bitch about is… apparently an actual unpopular opinion.
Contrary to the beliefs of countless people I’ve had the misfortune of reading about, what you show online is, in fact, a reflection of you.
Of course it fucking is. What you write online, what you post online, what you do online is all you. Of your self, of your behaviour, of your way of thinking, or, if you’re faking it, of your mental age. Particularly in an era where the internet has such a central role in our lives; we are literally the age of the internet… we are the age of meme. We are more ourselves online than we are in real life. We spend so much time on our computers and phones that we’ve been cultivating our online persona, consequently allowing the personality within our real, material, flesh prisons to remain stagnant. No wonder we all have anxiety now and can only communicate in (obsolete) vine references.
Right. So I recently encountered someone who pissed me off with her wrong opinion. I mean.. there are opinions, and there are opinions that are factually wrong. But then there are wrong opinions. Opinions that shouldn’t even be opinions.
I don’t normally hey assbutt about real encounters with real people, but I was ready to box her mentality. This person publicly broadcasted their snarky question of what a man has been doing all his life if he doesn’t have a house to his name by the age of 25. I was pissed.
You there, good sir. You’re 25. What the fuck have you been doing for your whole twenty five years of life, 21 of which have been spent either shitting your pants or being in education?
Ay you man, you’re 25. I don’t CARE that your grandparents weren’t millionaires like mine were, where is your house? I have four, you should at least have one!
Bruvva, we’re the same age, went to the same school, you got better grades than me; how come I’m a CEO with a family now and you’re still at checkouts? We all have the same twenty four hours!
My guy, you’re thirty years old and living on the streets, why don’t you own a house? Must be all the drugs you take!
I’m honestly sitting here trying to ignore the dull pain occurring in my arm right now, so here I am, having already failed at Blogtober, with another post.
So, girls and guys, we all know that unrequited anything is horrible, it’s a bitch, it’s the worst. Unrequited love, unrequited hatred, unrequited anything. I’m going to tell you what to do after being confined to the dreaded friendzone, or, more broadly, how to get over someone you never really had.
In all honesty, I don’t like guys. Let me clarify: I’m very much heterosexual, but it’s hard for me to like people. I’m not saying I have super high standards, I’m saying that in my entire 22 years I haven’t really liked liked people. In school, I was never interested in guys or relationships and I would shut down any flirting straight away because the guys around me were lame. I’m not head over heels about anyone at the moment, except Bill Skarsgard obv, and I don’t really interact with men (or anyone). So considering that, you’d better believe that if I like you, it’s a miracle. So if I know I could get over being friendzoned, so can you.
Now, you might read that and wonder why I would even consider giving relationship advice, but despite my lack of experience, people always wish they had listened to me sooner. I think a contributing factor is that I’m extra careful (cough – anxiety) and it’s not worth getting hurt over someone that way. I’m not hugely familiar with the whole confessing-your-undying-love-and-being-rejected thing because that would mean multiple instances of having undying love and then confessing it, but know that I definitely know how to deal with it.
So, here’s what to do when you’re thrown in the friendzone of somebody you’re madly in love with (or just crushing on):
I have taken a break from watching youtube videos of Scott’s alpha roar on loop. That one scene when he roars at Aidan, anyone????? Amazing.
Anyway, aside from doing that I’m also basically listening to the same songs on repeat whilst writing. Is it a good idea to play these songs on repeat? Probably not. I know I’ll regret it a few months from now when I try to listen to them again. I also have been making the rookie mistake of taking too many benzos before important events – like job interviews. The mistake being that taking them actually has the opposite effect of what I want them to have. Sure, I’m relaxed. But I’m a little too relaxed. Like ‘Haha. Yeah so then I – sorry, wait what was I just saying?’ relaxed.
Anyway, as per usual when I do this type of post, I am sharing a very important part of me and my everyday life; here’s what I’m currently listening to:
Some type of love – Charlie Puth
Apparently I really like Charlie Puth. Who knew? I’ve had this on repeat for god knows how long, I actually forgot other songs existed for a while. First I had Attention on loop. Then I found this. Ma boi Charles spitting straight truth.
I had a rant on my snapchat a couple of days ago, and it’s one that I want to expand on.
I used to take photos, all the time, at every chance I got. I was like an excitable dog, whipping out my phone to take a photo whenever I was really happy or I was with someone who made me happy or I saw something that made me happy. I used to write at every chance I got. I wanted to shout about everything to the world, because a writer has so much to say and wants to say it always. In words and in photos, for when words aren’t enough. A writer has an overwhelming desire to express themselves and have it known. Because even you’re not the happiest, you see the words and the photos and everything is kind of okay again. I used to snap away and post it everywhere I could. I look through my phone at photos I used to take and it just reminds me of a time when I was happier. Because that’s what I did. I took pictures. I wrote. I was a writer. That’s who I was.
But then I deleted everything. I deleted tumblr, and I stopped getting the urge to write and post. I deleted Instagram and I stopped taking photos, I stopped feeling excited enough to take out my phone, I stopped forcing people into my memories, I started to hate how I looked. I deleted Facebook and I became alienated from my family and the only way I stay in touch with my friends is through snapchat.
I talk about social media like it’s the devil, but the truth is it’s not. We live in a generation where social media is so prominent, so to tell you that it’s poison is wrong. If you have instagram, indulge. If you have tumblr, indulge. If you have Facebook, indulge. We are the social media generation, and if you grew up with social media, it’s almost unspeakable to suddenly get rid of it. Ghost when you’re happy, when your life is set up. Not when you still have growing up to do. Have a break every now and then to gain perspective. As long as your entire life isn’t social media, it’s fine. As long as you’re not using it to compare your life with others, it’s fine.