7 Whole Days…

…without In-sta-gram…

It’s actually been eight, but rock with me.

Much like my first week without Twitter, I feel…lighter.

If you’ve been following this week, I went to a coffee shop to write on Sunday, played around with some lighting and angles in my apartment to capture this photo on Monday, wrote a (sort of) review/reaction of The Batman on Tuesday. Last night, I spent three hours catching up with an old friend over sushi and sake where we nerded out on everything from movies to books to podcasts and life in general. 

I’m trying a new notebook — a steno pad instead of my trusty composition book so I can jot my random thoughts more discretely at work — and I’m stimulated by the new medium. Pages are easier to fill and for reasons I can’t explain, my thoughts flow quicker.

True to my vow to engage with WordPress, I’ve read more blogs this week than I have in the last two years. Read some things I agree with, some things I don’t. I’m refreshed by consuming less content, thoughtfully. Like “Wow. There are still people on the internet with the patience to sit with their thoughts. And they’ve been here all this time.”

The last few days are a perfect picture of how I want to be in the world. Present. Thoughtful. Lit up.

I don’t miss Instagram at all.

I don’t know what this means for my post-Lent relationship with the app. My friends are there. And I know there are people who’d like to keep up with me there, too. But is it too much to ask that they send a text? Give me a call? Have dinner/drinks if they’re local?

My working theory: social media creates a false sense of intimacy, allowing us to passively consume each other’s lives and call it friendship. Whether I’m right or wrong, I want to get back to one-on-one intimacy. To knowing what’s up with my friends because we talk to each other.

And perhaps thinking of social media as a creative/expressive outlet instead of a “stay connected to news and people” space.

8 days down. 32 to go.

Published by

a girl named rob

I used to be "skinny black girl." I'm now a slender woman on the other side of 35 with no new moniker who is not quite interested in writing under her given name. Still writing my life, a day (or some months) at a time. Also, still black.

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