The [New] Heart of Instagram
Why I'm choosing to ditch Instagram and migrate my sharable life to a more simple platform: an email newsletter.
When I first got on Instagram some 10 years ago, I really didn’t understand what I was doing. Probably not so different from how people struggled to grasp the internet, or now NFTs or crypto.
What is a “post”? What am I supposed to be posting? Why am I posting? Who cares? I don’t have any followers. Do I want followers? This is weird. Oh cool filter. Yes, five highly over-processed photos in a row of my nephew seems like a sustainable plan. Oh shit, my first like! Onward, endorphins! Charge!
After a bit of time and a lot of amateur experimentation, I remember waking up from a nap one day to getting featured on a local account, @InstaDFW. There it was, in all its poorly composed, crooked, and over-saturated glory, a photo I took on the Jefferson Street Viaduct looking toward Downtown Dallas.
What was this wonderful nonsense?! Someone thought my photo was good? Oh damn, four new followers? Who are these people? Do I follow them back?
Play it cool, Skyler. Relax. Don’t look so freakin’ eager. Nope, nevermind, I’m doing it. #f4f babyyyy.
Before long, casual digital interactions became so-called Instameets. The community (yes, community) of Instagram was this pure and thriving thing. Not yet a part of a gross behemoth and tethered to targeted ads and screwy algorithms.
Instagram—back then 👴🏼—was the reason I met many of my dear friends who I’m still close to today. I loved every bit of it. The platform pushed me to shoot more, work through my craft, be more selective with my work, edit more mindfully, and engage with other photographers in an equally mindful way. No ads. No bullshit. Just creative fun and being part of a larger community.
As we all know, this did not remain the case. Far from it, in fact. The once-honest platform whose signature was community was now profit and the creative [person] was nothing more than the engine to capital gains.
We’re all guilty. We’ve all contributed. We all helped the platform go from one thing to the next and pave the way for TikTok and a world of other addictive apps. But guilty or not, our complicity is found more in not managing to successfully escape the app while neglecting to immerse ourselves in healthier and more fulfilling pursuits.
This is, for me, where the idea of this newsletter comes into play.
I was recently telling someone about this potential transition from Instagram to an email newsletter and they said something to the effect of: “Now there’s an obvious transition.” 🙄
Whatever. This wouldn’t be the first time someone did something not obvious with the hope of searching for something more pure. For me, not everyone (but probably everyone), Instagram has proven itself to be more of an addictive vice that drives me deeper into envy, anxiety, and depression than spiritual fulfillment, lasting creativity, and contentment with the present. If a thing isn’t working, don’t keep doing the thing. Simple concept. Difficult in practice. Stopping addictions is rarely easy, especially when everyone is (unknowingly) addicted.
I can hear you saying it: I’m not addicted. I said that for a long time, too. I’ve been reading a fantastic book on anxiety and the definition of addiction is:
Continued use of something despite adverse consequences.
Shit, man. That widens the addiction playing field significantly.
I was addicted. In fact, I’m probably still coming off the pipe. That’s what this email, this newsletter, is. Reading this newsletter, to some degree, helps my recovery; a recovery for which the aim is reclaiming all aspects of myself, my inner artist, the hopeful child that’s been silenced for a decade by worthless Instapropaganda.
What I really hate, though, I have to admit, is that the birth of this newsletter, the crux of why I’m doing any of this, is mostly out of the desire not to do another thing, that thing being Instagram—at least for some time. I mean, of course the true desire is to freely create and share without the perceived judgments of an audience of followers. To create for a noble reason rather than against something else, like voting for Hilary instead of Trump.
The hunger is for real engagement; or at least freely sharing what I want without overthinking the process. To share what I want, when I want, on my own terms.
But most importantly, the highest priority is to share without wasting your time. Sadly, and I would argue this to my grave, I don’t really think it’s possible to share on Instagram without, to some degree, wasting someone’s time, because that is what the platform systemically sets out to do.
Okay, so, prologue aside…
What exactly is going to be in this newsletter and what can you as a subscriber expect? The only way for me to tell you without overthinking this is by listing the nonsense in bullet points.
Personal essays
Journal entries
Life updates
Photo journals
Weird thoughts or ideas
Current projects
Acknowledgements
Dating stories
Street Advice
Other stories and musings
Books I’m reading
Shows I’m watching
Now that you’ve got an idea about what content to expect, here are some things I care about:
That you find value and joy in what I share, and that your time is valued.
That you discover parts of yourself that you would have otherwise not explored as a result of what I share.
If you find something I write about or share valuable or interesting, share it with someone, or reply to me with your thoughts and opinions.
And some things I don’t care about:
Whether you’re a paid subscriber or not
Whether you decide to remain a subscriber or not (ie the dreaded ‘unfollow’). (Side note: I used to get offended or hurt when people unfollowed me, and now I actually find joy in it. Why? Because when we actively say No to something, we may be saying Yes to something else. That to me is exciting, and should be celebrated. If you don’t like my emails anymore, that’s ok. I support you finding something else that excites and interests you. I don’t have to be it.)
Whether or not you read or engage with every single email
Whether or not you like or love what I share. I aim to be mindfully unapologetic in what I share, the opinions and thoughts therein you could find offensive or you may disagree with.
What’s the difference between just getting the newsletter and getting paid content?
Great question.
The goal and reason for offering (some) content that exists behind a paywall is simply that for years I’ve been wanting to write and make some semblance of a life as a writer. Some content takes more of me to write. More effort, time, perhaps research, and certainly more editing and refining. Perhaps even a friend who does a peer review. Other things are, put simply, sacred. I don’t generally mind being vulnerable to the masses but some things I really don’t care to just give away.
Payment, however, is not full proof. I can assure you the people I’m closest with who would read that which I consider sacred would just as soon find some of my opinions or content unconventional or disagreeable. Hi (and sorry?), mom and dad.
This is a critical step for me in my pursuit as a creative. There are stories I want to write, art I want to create, photographs I want to take, all of which I insist on not apologizing for. That being said, I’m always open to dialogue. To mindlessly (or fearfully) nod in agreement without knowing a person is tragically worse than stating strong opinions, which are followed up by mindful debate and learning more about someone.
Eeebadeebadeep that’s all folks!
Wait! What about you becoming an archonaut astrotect (astronaut + architect) with SpaceX? What about these dates you went on? Who is Steven Pressfield? What about porn? How much of a discount to your store do I get?
I’m afraid we’ve run out of time.
Those, however, are indeed samplings of topics you can expect to read about as a subscriber. It’ll be funny. It’ll be interesting. It’ll be sad. It’ll be all things. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll tell your mom about it. But, for now, it’s just a little hello email—one to say welcome, and thank you for subscribing.
Now, go pat yourself on the back because you’ve made it to the bottom.
Until next time,
XOXO
-Gossip Girl
