Monday, May 18, 2015
the perks of being an online wallflower
Actually it's the age of the blogger, the Instagrammer and that noisy little blue bird (hashtags anyone?). It is also the age of the Kardashians - but I'd rather not go there.
Since I went there anyway, I'll say this- if there is anything that scares me more than the Kardashians' ever ballooning body parts, it's social media. Who needs this immense additional pressure? Like I don't have enough of that in life! I mean some of us here can barely pull a 9 to 6 AND manage to look human at the same time! I am completely in awe of YouTubers. I am amazed at their commitment and energy! Not to mention their ability to still have an actual life off the internet.
And then there's the comments section that they have to deal with. This crazy space where haters, smart alecs, self-righteous pseudo intellectuals, trolls, idiots, fanatics, peddlers, scammers, perverts, shippers, weeping fangirls/boys, racist *expletives* and other usually underage delinquents coexist. This space is crazy bi-polar. It can either give you some of the best laughs you've ever had, or can elicit feelings of such intense shame and disappointment in the human race. It takes some major restraint to not feed 'em trolls or hunt down a hater and chainsaw massacre their ... behind.
As far as my activity on the interwebs are concerned, it's pretty quiet. I mean, I'm not sure if this makes me a stalker, but I am on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and whatever else - just quietly. I do nothing but sneak around stealthily. (Signature stalker move. So that's settled then.) No posts, no updates, no pictures, no comments, no likes. If you listen closely though, there may or may not be the sound of loser-ly mouth-breathing. I see you, but you will never see me. *insert creepy giggle*
Lately my friends (arguably) have been calling me out on this (apparently) less than desirable lifestyle choice of mine.
"Dude why aren't you on Facebook?"
"Seriously?" (fingers flying on a smart phone keypad faster than the golden snitch) "Your status hasn't changed since 2013! And do you even have a display picture?"
"Whatever. Did you see the picture I took of the rain in Dubai?"
"Oh yeah, you're not even on Instagram. Are you even from this century?"
I am on Instagram, and I saw your stupid picture!
"OMG! What are you, a pervert? Why are you sneaking around the internet? You a criminal or something? What are you hiding?..."
Fine. I'm going to be all over this thing! Hear me roar!
Inner voice of reason: Oh please! Don't you know these people are just vain self obsessed people who need to be validated all the time through likes and comments? All these people with zero self esteem. So lame! I have a life and I can't be bothered with updates and shiz. *flicks hair smugly*
THAT'S A BIG FAT LIE! Enough has been said about the current generation's desperate need to feel validated, and how social media is basically an enabler to all of us struggling with our self esteem and what not. And we were bombarded with anti-online-bullying-messages. But then that's so yesterday! No one cares about what a bunch of psychology majors think. True story. Sadly.
See, I'd love to have a portable scrap book on the internet like everybody else. But I actually have nothing interesting going on in my life and I don't have people taking cute candid pictures of me doing all these "regular" yet cool things at "regular" yet cool places. I'm not flying to the other side of the globe with my cool posse or my cute "significant other" taking adorable selfies or travel guide worthy pictures. No. Nothing. When I do go out I look like I just got out of jail or something. Every time I try to take a selfie at a remotely flattering angle, the phone falls out of my hand and onto my face! Bye-bye left eye.
So let's see, maybe I should take pictures of my food. Can't. I'm usually too hungry to wait till I've taken a picture. Plus the drool from my mouth might damage my phone. And my food. So then maybe I can make a collection of "OOTD" or "OOTN" pictures. Umm, no. That would mean having to iron my clothes, clean my room, comb my hair, make selfie face... Reject idea.
But I love looking at pretty pictures. Of other people. I like reading wise-cracky shiz. Written by other people, usually in the comments section. I like laughing at silly jokes. Mmm hmmm, made by other people. I love silently judging the stupidity that makes it out there (obviously). Most of all I like sitting on my au naturel, almost non-existent posterior in front of my computer, living vicariously through the shenanigans of ||superwoman||, Ryan Higa or Mr. Arturo Trejo.
And that's what I plan to keep doing. Continue living my minimum-pressure life. And my friends, you ask? I'm working on this story to tell them. About how I'm in the witness protection program and how my life is actually so darned cool that I am not allowed to leave any traceable steps on the internet. Just a little sacrifice I have to make for being so unbearably interesting.
*flicks hair smugly*