WELCOME BACK, I HATE THE INTERNET

Hello! Welcome back to my little corner of the internet. I have missed it so much. I’ve abandoned this place many times over the years, but I have finally returned to dust off the cobwebs and fill you in on how sad I’ve been lately. A new chapter. FUN.

Coming back to my blog is like visiting an old childhood bedroom. It just feels right. Instantly familiar. Safe. It’s where it all began. 

I grew up within these walls. 

And if you’ve been here for awhile, you’ll know that the blog really is where it all began.

12 years ago. 

12 years. Sheesh! Have you ever stopped to catch a breath and try to comprehend everything that has happened in the last 12 years? Yes, the formation/hiatus/personal lives and solo careers of the One Direction band members, but also, social media as a whole and the level in which it has advanced? 

Same.

12 years ago, my social media presence consisted of the 100 tweets I sent to Justin Bieber, 100 days in a row, in attempt to capture his attention and be the “one less lonely girl” at his next concert.

Back then, there wasn’t an obsessive desire to curate an online presence. What even was an online “presence” back then anyway? It was a good day if your instagram photo hit 11 likes. It was a better day if Justin Bieber retweeted your 97th consecutive tweet to him. But it wasn’t as deep as it is these days. There was no social pressure. No glamorized and staged photo ops. No “public figure” labels, or swipe up features exclusive to those “public figures.” 

Back in the DAY, people actually planned their outfits according to the weather and NOT THEIR CONENT CALENDAR!! Crazy. 

I crave those early days of social media. The simplicity. The authenticity. The Valencia filter. Cat-fishing your middle school crush with pictures of your neighbor’s old foreign exchange student from Sweden. 

It was truly a time to be alive. 

But what I miss, even more than a chronological instagram feed…is my personal relationship with the online world.

I have been asked many times over the years, “How did you gain such a loyal following?” and I’ve always shrugged my shoulders in response.

I usually tell people it started when I posted my first video of Jackson. It was the summer before my Senior year. I didn’t know what a vlog was, but I loved to film. I got my first camera for Christmas that year, and so I filmed everything. Our ikea dates. Our dates to my little brother’s baseball games. Prom! I took that camera everywhere. At the end of the summer, I edited the clips together and put it over a Coldplay song or something. It was cute. And people ate that shit up. This was pre-Jay & Alexis, so the #COUPLEGOALS movement was in it’s infancy. 

But this is where my mom would cut in and say “WAIT! You’re forgetting something.”

Because in her eyes, the question of how her daughter gained such a loyal online following, was an easy one to answer. And it wasn’t my videos at all. It started way before that. 

“The blog.”

My mom is a fantastic writer, and I was lucky to be passed down some of her gifts. (If I do say so myself, ahem.) Not that I consider myself a poet, but I do love to write. I used to fill up 3 journals a week as a kid, and as early as kindergarten, I was writing and entering dramatic love tragedies into school contests. 

So when the blogging boom hit, circa 2010 - I was born ready. 

My blog was titled, “Miss Indypendent” (because I have been a branding wizard since the womb and also because I was raised on Kelly Clarkson.)

I filled up that online journal, as quick as if it was covered in sequins and purchased at Limited Too.

And reason my mom knows all of this, is because she was Miss Indypendent’s one and and only loyal reader. 

As I became a teenager, I spent more time writing Harry Styles fan fiction than I did blogging about how cheer tryouts went. I blogged the way a lot of you might remember it. A lot like I do now. A few times a year and each post would always start with

“Hi! Welcome back. Sorry it’s been so long!” 

Some things never change. 

But I never completely gave up on the blog. It was an outlet for me to express myself. It was pretty simply…just that. I don’t think I cared if anyone read it. I don’t remember wanting anything to come of it. I just wrote because I was a teenage girl with a lot of feelings…and 140 characters on Twitter just wasn’t cutting it. 

Towards the end of my senior year, I began writing more, and it traveled throughout my home town. People started to notice. I wrote about the trials and tribulations that came from being a basic teenage girl. I wrote about new jobs. Friend break ups. Real break ups. One of my favorite posts was about how the Taylor Swift and Harry Styles 2013 New Year’s Eve kiss ruined my entire year before it even started. (The trials and tribulations that came from being a basic white teenage girl back then, mainly stemmed from the entire #Haylor publicity stunt. Don’t @ me.)

Slowly, I started developing a following of blog readers. People would DM me on twitter, begging for another post. The comment section of my blog was filled with girls my age, saying things like “How can you put my exact feelings to words?” “It’s like you’re writing my diary” and “I had no idea other people felt this way.” 

I didn’t either.  

This outlet that I once used to discuss my favorite back to school trends, was now a place I could came to feel seen and heard. And I achieved that, just by writing from that raw, innocent, vulnerable part my soul. 

It didn’t matter if I was writing about Peter Pan collars or how to win a Twitter fight, I was just being me. In my little corner of the internet. 

Ahhh - remember that? When people were themselves on the internet? I forgot what that was like. 

I loved to write, but I also loved to speak. I grew up Mormon! I was up on that pulpit every testimony meeting since age 6. And listen, I got terrible grades in school, but I knew how to work a crowd. So my dream growing up was always to speak at graduation someday. The only problem, no one was really sure I was going to graduate.

The honor of speaking at the graduation ceremony was reserved for the kids who woke up at 5am to study for their 4 extra AP classes they were taking. Did they deserve that honor?? Mmmmm yeah okay. I could definitely share the spotlight. But how is it inspiring to hear from the 4 of the “smartest” kids in school who could only relate to about 1% of the people they were speaking to? Lame! I had a blog. So I published my “unofficial graduation speech” after being rejected from the auditions, and it went viral. Small town viral, which at the time meant like, 75 retweets, but still. It felt like sticking it to the man either way.

My blog was my voice. 

And it feels good to use your voice.

I forgot what that was like too. 

So what has happened since? What has social media become in these last seven years? How did we stray so far from the innocence of #SelfieSunday?

It has turned into advertisements, clickbait, facetune, flex culture, cancel culture, gender reveals, gender reveals gone wrong, notes app apologies, swipe up links, and so. many. Revolve. trips. 

It has turned into a worldwide open forum. Before, in the Miss Indypendent days, my mom was my only blog reader. Social media wasn’t connecting us globally the way it is today. Because now, if you decide to participate in the internet, you’re submitted to these algorithms with the potential to reach millions of people, any time you post. Pretty cool? Yep. Pretty terrifying? YEP. Everyone has an opinion. And trust me, they’ll find and contact your employer, your grandmother and your hair stylist to make sure you hear about it. Gen-Z spares no one.

In 2021, everyone’s most prized possession is their online image they have invented. It’s completely, and carefully, curated with up to date, trending outfit pics that took no less than 2 hours to shoot and edit (but still gives off the #noedit vibe) a monetized hobby or two, and a few infographics about the latest current issue everyone feels socially obligated to post about. You have to find the balance of “I don’t care about instagram” so here’s 20 photos of me in the same dress, and “I don’t care about instagram” so I’m taking an unexpected 3 week social media hiatus. Posting too much will make it look like you’re on your phone all day. (You are.) So adding the element of mystery is crucial. But not too much, of course, or you won’t appear relatable to your followers. Are you keeping up?

Everyone has a side hustle these days. Oh and for some reason, it’s mostly young moms with multiple small children. The pressure is all on us. If you’re not swiping up Stanley water bottles to your story, you’re falling behind, babe. And why did we feel the need to add more pressure and expectation to these already overwhelmed, bunt out mother’s? Well, because IT’S TIME TO HUSTLE! IF YOU AREN’T CONSISTENTLY POSTING TWICE A DAY, YOU WILL NEVER  REACH 10,000 FOLLOWERS. TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THESE OPPORTUNITIES OR SOMEONE ELSE WILL! DON’T YOU WANT TO BE YOUR OWN BOSS? THERE WILL NEVER BE A TIME LIKE THIS AGAIN! GROW YOUR ACCOUNT WITH ME! FOLLOW ME FOR MORE TIPS!!

Oh - and by the way, nothing is cool anymore. Nothing is impressive. Sorry. Your boyfriend rented out the entire city of Paris to propose on top of the Eiffel Tower? I heard it was staged for views. Skydiving naked in New Zealand with Justin Bieber? Yawn. Sounds like a David Dobrik vlog. Oh shit — You discovered the cure to cancer?!! Too bad you tweeted that fat joke in 2009. 

Social media used to be a place to document and share your happiest moments, your biggest days. But now, if you submit yourself to the algorithms of tiktok, the beautiful viral video of you reacting to your positive pregnancy test will quickly be analyzed by the masses. Strangers around the country will come to the conclusion, that you are unfit to be a mother, due to the pile of towels in the corner of your video. “If she can’t do the simple task of laundry, surely, she should not be trusted with human life”

Welcome to the internet, kid. As our fearless leader Olivia Rodrigo tells us, it’s brutal out here.

We have created this society that moves through trends at lightning speed. A few months ago, the word “cheugy” had a huge viral moment. 

Cheugy, literally means “opposite of on-trend.” And within days of the word spreading like wildfire, “cheugy” was officially declared, “cheugy”

Wanna read that again?

In the blink of an eye, it happens. Like there’s a committee of D’Amelio sisters sitting at a conference table, controlling the “trend” switch, on or off. 

And if you miss the memo, a provoked mob of teenagers will be flood your page with comments like “this trend is so old lmao”

Ouch!! Ego crush IS so severe!

But at the end of the day, that’s the name of the game and we’re all playing it.

okay maybe it’s just me.

But it started to feel like it was a game I was never going to win.

So at the beginning of the year, I devised a plan.

A plan to beat the game.

I’ve had a platform on the internet, with a large following, for a few years now. I had turned it into my job, Into my life, really. Those lines were blurred. But I finally decided to take control of this thing. This role and this “opportunity.” I was going to take it seriously.

I was going to follow all the tips that the girlboss babes talk about. I would post consistently, I would use relevant hashtags, I would collaborate with more brands, try out affiliate links, maybe get my YouTube channel back up and running. I had achieved this community, without doing a lot of those things, so imagine what I could do if I actually put in effort? Get verified? Finally get a dm back from Bella Hadid? I was excited. Motivated. I read books, I planned captions, I even made a “content calendar.” I was going so hard, ready to watch my personal brand take off — and then, right before I set my plan into action…it was like my tires screeched to a halt on the runway. 

What was this all for?

For the first time, I simply thought to myself, 

“Why?” 

Why, the hustle? Why am I in such a hurry? Where am I even going? Why do I feel the need to keep up? With trends, with music, with fashion, with the Kardashians! With anything really? What was the point?

Do I really need to fit in? Do I really need to be accepted by cool New York City fashion girls with dark, moody instagram aesthetics? Do I really care if they think I’m cool? Do I really need to be verified? Do I event want that? Do I even want more followers at all?

Who am I trying to prove myself to?

It hit me that I was already burnt out before I even took off. 

I’m just tired.

I’m tired of hustle culture. 

I’m tired of monetizing every thing I love.

I’m tired of the word “monetize.”

I’m tired of the perfect white kitchens.

I’m tired of every parent on tiktok competing over who loves their baby the most.

I’m tired of beauty guru beef.

I’m tired of ads.

I’m tired of tiktok picking teenage girls to make famous and then cancelling them two months later.

I’m tired of defending my character to people determined to misunderstand me. 

I’m tired of perfectly planned instagram feeds.

I’m tired of perfectly planned photo dumps.

I’m tired of the ever changing algorithms. 

I’m tired of trying to figure out whats cool. 

I’m tired of even caring whats cool anymore. 

Instagram came out a few months ago, announcing that they are transitioning from being a photo app, to a video app. Moving forward, they will be highlighting and pushing video content, specifically reels.

I felt instant exhaustion. Another curveball. Time to adjust the plan. Is this just my life now? Adjusting to whatever app or algorithm is most current and trending?

Putting hours of time and emotion into building a community on one platform, only to bail and start all over, when everyone inevitably gets sick of it and moves on to the next one? 

Do we just keep “keeping up” forever?

I love meeting people who follow me. I love when that online connection, carries into the real world.

But I have a really special spot in my heart for my blog readers.

A couple of years ago, I was at the state fair with some friends. We were in line for a ride and someone came and tapped my shoulder. 

I turned around to see a girl, who looked around my same age, standing in front of me with tears in her eyes. Tears!

“Hi, I have followed you for years.” She said, shaking. I couldn’t figure out why she was so emotional, but she continued to tell me that my blog post about speaking at graduation inspired her to speak at hers. Woah. She told me she was a writer, and she connected to me in that way. Specifically, my blog. I couldn’t believe it.

“I even quoted parts of your post in my speech. I can send you the video if you want.” She said after 10 million hugs were exchanged.

That’s it.

That is the point.

That is what this is all for. That is the connection I crave from the online world, and the real life one.

And this story reminded me where that connection was born. 

Right here.

For the last two years I have been stressed over numbers, analytics, ratios, trends & trying to please the entire internet. But again, why? Why did it matter if I had cool outfits or high engagement? What was the end goal? I was so busy trying to maintain those things, that I let this magical corner of the internet collect dust. And I mean, I love a fit pic as much as the next guy but I’ve never had anyone cry and tell me my birthday dress changed their life. 

This is the stuff that matters to me. The stories. The readers of the stories. The memories. The documentation of LIFE! The conversations in the line at the state fair, years later. 

The truth is…I love the internet, okay? I could never hate you baby!!

But I desperately need something new. I need more connection. I need more life.

And I want the part I play on the internet, to enhance those things for me.

All of this, I guess, is to say…I’m back. Like, for good. I’m moving back home! Metaphorically speaking, of course.

(Not a chance, mom & dad, sorry.) 

And it feels good. Because here, I don’t need to worry about algorithms or tricks to get more followers. I don’t need to rely on clickbait or hacking the system to get my content seen. I don’t need to prove myself when theres hundreds of people who already see me. This content on my blog, is for future me, and the people who want to follow along until I meet her. 

It’s my documentation of life.

I’ve been preparing for this shift in effort & intention for while now. I’ve been writing all summer. I got off social media, cleared my head, straightened out my list of priorities (attending the Met Gala is still on there) and for the first time in what feels like a long time…I have a lot to say.

Of course, I’m still always writing my damn book and i’m sorry if you thought this was that announcement. But this should keep you happy (or terribly sad) until then. I’ve included a few essays from my sad girl summer, we can start there, and by the time you finish reading all of it, i’ll probably have some more for you.

Will I ever learn to make a long story, short?

Anyway. I’m happy about it. It feels right. It feels like I can take a breath. It feels like I can set some heavy expectations down. It feels like I’m finally in control.

And you know what?

it kinda feels like I beat the game.

It’s good to be back.

Ind

my muse