May 23, 2018
I came to a STOP with social media a few days ago. Where I realized I was planning too much and making it into work. Sharing inspirational quotes from books I'd read with matching lifestyle stock photography. I felt frustrated and disappointed that I still placed a sheen of distance between me and you. Because I've been told in the past that my style was too amateur. It needed elevation or viral appeal, that of course looked effortless and unplanned in all its calculation.
Over a year ago, I set out to "do things differently" and kept doing more of the same, in a different way. There still remains, so much more of me to share. In sloppy, loose, un-PC, non-best-practice, full disclosure that could be judged as a mistake or TMI. But what else is there? Why do it too pretty or perfect or only halfway? I'd rather be a tried and true, fucked up HUMAN than a passable social media star.
Will I ever be able to say: "Fuck the numbers." YTBD. I sure want to though. Because my sharing all of me doesn't require engagement or reaction or a stream of comments. I only need me being inspired in my own life, outside the pictures, away from the feeds, in the moments where I lunge into embarrassing honesty that makes me feel cleansed and certain that all the advice is bullshit, because only my experience will prime the next step.
I get so into this mode of trying too hard. Thinking too much. And wanting you to see me as "legit." But gawwwd that feels gross. Why bust my ass trying to be known for something I created to be a shade off from the crust of my real skin? Sometimes ashy and blemished, crinkly or dimpled, scarred, and somehow, resiliently renewed.
AUTHENTICITY is a goldmine word these days. Something I mistakenly worked at instead of unleashing in all its humiliating glory. I may still luster my feed with brilliant stock photography that takes me places in spirit, but the written words will be bravely my own. Risking typos and taking chances on the unknown.
Let's fuck some shit UP.
lotsa love ~e