Let’s clear one thing up: I’m not a tech-averse person. At least, I never used to be. From my first AOL account back in 1993 to my early enthusiasm for Netscape in ’95, I’ve always embraced new technology. I hopped from Friendster to Myspace before my friends even knew what an “avatar” was. By 2007, I had my Facebook profile up and running, with my very first status reading: “Megan Harper is petrified of whatever political scheme is brewing.” (Your first status really says a lot about you, doesn’t it?)
We all have our social media preferences. When I signed up for Twitter in 2009, I wasn’t entirely sold on it (I had a book launching, and the PR team insisted I join the fray). However, I soon found myself tweeting like a bird discovering seeds. Crafting thoughts in 140 characters felt like creating miniature poetry: it was more than just sharing my lunch plans. As a news junkie with a passion for politics, it was a delightful dive into self-curated news reporting. I was tweeting with abandon.
Then, in late 2011, whispers of a new platform called Instagram reached my ears. I gave in to the pressure. My first post? A clumsy attempt that had me fumbling with filters while missing the mark entirely. What even was Kelvin, and why did I need to know about it? I had no clue that adding hashtags like #catsarethebest was essential.
Fast forward three years, and I’ve managed a mere 48 posts on Instagram, each feeling like a dental procedure. In stark contrast, I’ve tweeted nearly 10,000 times. My tweets flow naturally, while my Instagram feels like I’m trapped in a labyrinth designed by tech-savvy Millennials, suffering from a case of tech-induced confusion.
Posting on Instagram often goes like this in my mind: “Wow, this is genuinely beautiful/weird/interesting! Shouldn’t I snap a photo for my followers to prove I’m still alive?”
Maybe the issue is that I’m not driven by likes or hearts. Sure, I appreciate them, but they don’t inspire my posts. (I know, I know, I’m doing it all wrong.)
We live in a world where we’re all essentially brands, whether we like it or not. My social media presence is a bizarre mix of random thoughts, articles, and live tweets of political rallies, along with whatever’s happening in my life. Tweeting feels effortless: it’s just me sharing my thoughts. Instagram, on the other hand? It’s like I’m being forced to showcase my life as if it’s a product for sale.
Honestly, Instagram, I don’t want to see your avocado toast or your 4,597th sunset picture when I just witnessed it with my own eyes. And those hashtags? Please. #Blessed #Grateful #LivingMyBestLife—let’s be real, you and your influencers just want to market your lives. If you’re a photographer, I respect your art, but for the rest of us? Maybe it’s just me—an ancient relic, baffled by this selfie-obsessed world.
I guess I have to accept that in this hyper-visual age, as someone who loves words and is over 40, I might never truly fit in again. And don’t even get me started on Pinterest or those never-ending GIFs. Can we just hit pause on those?
But hey, if you’re feeling curious, do follow me on Instagram. #sorrynotsorry
In conclusion, while I may feel out of place on platforms like Instagram, it’s all about navigating this ever-evolving digital landscape. Keep up with your interests, and who knows? You might find your niche, just like I’m trying to find mine. Check out this other blog post for more insights on navigating modern motherhood: this blog post. And if you’re looking for tips on improving your journey, visit this fantastic resource. Also, don’t miss out on valuable information regarding pregnancy and home insemination.