In a Bustle article, a woman de-constructed her Instagram pictures and explained them in two ways: how she hopes they come across, and the actual thought process that accompanied each post.
My interest in this app has waxed and waned over the years, but in my earliest days, when I was obsessed with getting followers and likes, I used to use 30 hashtags (I kid you not) hoping that my posts would trend just a little bit.
I’ve only admitted this to two people so far, so two thousand or so more can’t hurt, right?
I’ve come a long way, mostly abandoning the popular practice of hashtagging, but it’s time to be brutally honest.
I think the way people interact with their Instagrams is important, because this app is a visual representation (or so we hope) of ourselves, in a world where people have become increasingly obsessed with the way they are portrayed.
We care about the number of followers and likes that we get so much that we have websites dedicated to tracking and analyzing all of these things. (Don’t lie, you’ve visited Friend or Follow at least once.)
The editing that the latest updates allow, along with the variety of filters available has basically allowed IG to become our own DIY public Photoshop space.
Isn’t that exactly what social commentaries have been attacking for so long?? Continue reading
To put it simply, Bryant is my oldest friend. We’ve known each other since the beginning of time, way before pre-school began. During the rough elementary years, we didn’t attend school together, but I think I saw you here and there at tennis practices and remembered the fun times we’d had as toddlers, toddling around Disneyland and North Carolina and whatnot. Continue reading
The song at the bottom corresponds perfectly with this GIF
She watched him pull out a dinged up can from his drawer and dump the contents out onto his desk: a few crinkled bills and scraps of paper, but mostly just a shower of coins.
“My prized coin collection from seventh grade,” he muttered. “Never knew it’d end up like this.”
With a smirk, he slowly counted them up, picking through the pile for the quarters first.
“Sixteen dollars so far. Quarters really add up, you know.”
Clink, clink, clink. Continue reading
It’s been over a year since I last saw Michelle, despite her being one of my best friends. This might be a problem in a normal friendship, but what M and I have is nothing close to normal.
< Related: This Kid I Know: Michelle >
In the cyber-digital age, when LDRs have gone largely online, the two of us have somehow managed to keep in touch despite not having conversations every day, every week, or even every month. Continue reading
The wolf feels the arrows. It feels the pointed ends sticking into the flesh between her shoulder blades. Damn, how did the hunter find her only soft spot? The tenderest part? The hunter was skilled; the wolf feels the arrowheads stab her sharply with every movement…every lifting of the paw, every crane of the neck. Every movement, a reminder of coming death.
She looks down at the skull in front of her, a face that had once been so soft and loving and now hard and empty, reduced by death to near nothingness. The arrows seem to dig deeper underneath her skin, blood matting fur.
There is only one word for this feeling: hopelessness.
Utter, despairing, pervading hopelessness.
Creds to Amelia for showing me this:
When I find new music I put them at the top of a huge, ever-growing list and every month or so, I download n new music and name it after some occasion that’s coming up.
Over winter break last year, my family went to the Bahamas, and this is the playlist that I created just before we left. No particular reason why; I didn’t search and find these songs to fit the occasion. These were just the songs that I played over our stay there and everytime I bring the playlist back, I’m reminded of our awesome vacation.
It starts out with blasting music for a sun party, and gradually fades into really chill, really mellow music for late nights in the tropics.
I went to the library the other day. In fact, I went to a few different libraries trying to sign up for a card but repeatedly got denied the chance because “you don’t live in this county” and “here’s a brochure listing all Georgia library locations, I think it might help you.”
I finally found one and signed up for a card; as I strolled around the tiny little building, I remembered one of the very first posts to ever appear on my blog, called: “The Magic of Barnes and Nobles (or bookstores in general)“
I was reminded of what I said about libraries, that they “depress me” to the extent that I have “grudgingly decided to stand by and watch libraries become more and more scarce,” as if I were witness to a slow extinction of sorts. Continue reading
I imagine Purgatory to be like the Costco food court – disingenuous bursts of impossibly bright red bringing to the mind the intense flavor of cherry cough syrup and gleaming white countertops that are supposed to give the impression of cleanliness but whose smooth surfaces only feel grimy. Under the fluorescent lights and against the backdrop of huge containers of SunChips and Pretzels, no one looks happy. Instead, a natural expressionless inevitably creeps into the facial make-up of each resident’s mask. Continue reading
This is part of my Summer Reading 2.0 series
I’ve always been a fan of Sarah Dessen; she puts out a bunch of thick novels dubbed as teenage romance. In my early days of high school I saw them as just that, teenage romance novels. But ever since English teachers started pushing me to dissect literature and find deeper meanings, I’ve started to do that, the practice leaking into my leisure reading. Continue reading
Since 18 years ago I’ve slowly witnessed myself oscillating between serfdom and nobility, ending up more noble than serf.
Serfs are thrifty and don’t like to waste things and concentrate on those sort of details, because that’s all they’ve ever known. I was a kid and I liked to hoard my Rice Krispy Treats and trade them with my sister and I lived my life bar by bar, worrying only about the next immediate Treat, never more than one ahead. Continue reading