No more social media, more social
Just about two weeks without social media so far and life has been everything social media promised but failed to deliver to me. I deleted my social media apps and reconnected with friends I haven’t seen in ages. Whenever I felt the urge to scroll, I read or did art or watched “long form” media, aka movies and TV series. There will never be a full escape from ads so long as we see branded cars, clothing, and giveaway tote bags, but my life is relatively ad-free now and it’s nice.
Social media could have been great if it wasn’t monetized. I love how social media works in Heartstopper, but that’s definitely not my Instagram experience.
This year, I want to deepen my social connections. I don’t just want to drop quick “look at this dumb meme, thinking of you” messages. I want to have conversations. I want to know my friends. I want to come round frequently enough that we don’t need catch-up conversations and instead can just occasionally low-key introvert hang in peace and good company.
Of course, I still have social anxiety, and I still love my time alone, as well as with my partner. But I want to rework my brain. I want to go backwards. Maybe not go back to 4-hour long calls about nothing, but a few steps back. Slowing down to normal speed so we’re not fast forwarding through life.
“Oh no, but how will people know about your art?” Maybe they won’t? That’s fine. I’ve been through two or so periods in my life of wanting to sell my art, but ultimately I think it’s just not what I want to do. I’m happy to sell art at Atrium 916 in Old Sacramento, and maybe at Curtis Park fest every year. But I don’t care to live the grind and burnout life, of constantly and desperately yelling about my wares to strangers flying by in lightspeed scroll-bys.
I just like to make art. It feels nice when people want to talk about it. It feels nice to know it resonates enough for them to buy it if the chance appears. But I no longer dream of showing in the Tate, of publishing award-winning children’s books, of becoming the next viral funny 4-panel comic artist. I’m not sure that’s even what my dreams were. I think I literally just wanted to go to art school, then make art for a low or decent standard of living, and then die quietly knowing I helped create new things in the world, even if ephemeral. It’s not the exact path I took, but it still kind of holds true.
I just like knowing that I’ve created something. Good parents hope their child will become something great, but they have to let the kid explore their own path. And the parents don’t plan to be there until the very end of their child’s journey. They just have to be satisfied that they made a thing (a child). And that’s how I kind of feel about art. You invest time and energy into the thing. Maybe it has ups and downs. Maybe you die and it dies. Maybe you die and it goes on a new journey beyond you. Who knows and who cares? YOU MADE THE THING. THE ACT OF MAKING IS INCREDIBLE.
KEEP MAKING THINGS. MAKE CRINGEY THINGS. MAKE GREAT THINGS. Just don’t make no thing, amirite