I've felt this pull lately and I'm sure you've felt it too. To go back to how things were before social media.
It's kinda funny. I fell into my career in social media because of this blog. It fostered in me a love for digital community, mixed with my passion for thrifted and vintage fashion . Having found so much joy in this community online and the relationships I built over the years led me to believe that I should turn a career out of it. Isn't that what we all kinda do? Whether it's what we physically produce (like art) or the way we think (analytically), we take what we're good at and decide: "Hey, let's turn this thing that makes me happy into a thing that makes me money." I don't know. I've rarely heard them both exist simultaneously well together.
I enjoy working in social media. It's a flexible career that is always changing and involves a lot of creativity, which I enjoy. But at the same time, I can look at how doing it professionally impacted the way I viewed the way I do it for pleasure.
I rarely just create to create anymore. There's always a level of expectancy to my work. I know the importance of including hooks for my videos, cropping my photos to the golden ratio, integrating key words so I turn up in organic search, posting optimal times to reach my audience. Nothing ever feels...unintentional anymore. Even photo dumps, meant to feign oh-my-god randomness, are still these highly curated glimpses into what we want people to believe (or not believe) about our lives and who we are.
Is it possible to share ourselves online that is not in some way, curated to how we desire others to see (like) us?
When I started my blog in 2009, it was just me sharing into the abyss. Its purpose was solely for me to share things that excited me. I looked forward to taking pictures of my outfits every day after school because photography and fashion were hobbies I was newly exploring. I don't even think anyone read my blog for at least 6 months, so worrying about how people might perceive my posts never crossed my mind. It probably should have. :')
I guess a lot of discovery periods are like this. You don't have data that's either good or bad in your brain to compare to-- you're only just starting something. It's always fun because you move forward quickly and then fall back just as quickly as you begin to learn.
But once you become more established, you feel like you should be farther along than you are or if you're like me, that maybe you're not as good as you once were. I often look back at photos I was taking in 2013 (nearly a decade ago) and think: "How did I do that? I wouldn't be able to now."
Overtime I've felt like a trifecta of:
a) turning a passion into a profession
b) over-contemplating how I'm perceived
c) comparing myself to my old self
...has killed my ability to be really, truly authentic myself in what I create. I don't think it's the algorithms I'm tired of. I'm tired of myself. It wouldn't be as disappointing when a photo performed like shit if it was one I loved and was proud of. Instead, satisfaction in my work feels dependent on external performance instead of my own internal feelings.
Maybe I'm always starting hobbies (and remaining mediocre in the ones I abandon) because I'm running from my own disappointment in myself. Or fear of disappointment, sometimes.
Is it even possible to get back to creating without expectations in a modern world of social media? I felt like that's what I was trying to do with this blog and re-starting it. But even after a few posts, I started placing pressure on myself to perform and come up with systems of success for this new venture. I got scared I wasn't creating compelling posts, so I just didn't post for 6 months instead.
This entry is a mess but maybe that's what I need. I create end results that others want to see, but don't always make sense to me. This is a loose end that doesn't have a knot tied right now.
With much love,
Lauren
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