If you visit my Instagram, you’d think all I do is think about food. You’d be right.
You very rarely find a lot of people there, other than my son and husband. Forget wine getaways and tailgate parties. Because I hate people, duh.
Occasionally, I’ll post a promo-thingie about my latest Medium/Festival Peak music review and stories published elsewhere. Poetry and dream essays, etc. I also write for Visit Edmonds and Welcome Magazine.
I really enjoy taking really good, artsy photos (Portrait setting is my friend) of nature and fast-action sports shots back when my son played soccer, basketball, and baseball (a moment of silence).
Instagram is the only social media I’ve got left. Snapchat’s just for keeping in touch with my son; it’s like another, more immediate eye-catcher to texting.
I began cutting away the social media deadweight a few years ago, first with Facebook (big waste of time), then, last spring, Twitter (ugh!) and LinkedIn (bigger waste of time).
Eventually, I’d like to live in real time with real people, hard copies of books and magazines, framed photos/scrapbooks, and the like. Like a normal person. That’s the goal.
I’m holding out, because I love images so much, on- and offline, and well, everyone’s on social media (except maybe my mom, who still never answers her dinosaur cell phone). Instagram is dedicated to celebrating images, believe it or not. It was never meant to be a socio-political platform. None of them were, IMHO. Remember connecting with family and friends? Making new friends? Learning new hobbies? Reaching out with tonics and therapies for those in pain?
Real, human shit we used to care about.
A hug and a present we wrapped ourselves for your birthday. A phone call to check up. A spontaneous visit to play.
Anyway, I digress.
I’m still on it. For now.
I’m trying very hard to avoid the socio-political noise all around me. Always on the search for beautiful images and original prose, a little bit of the real and the raw in this plastic universe, where every slick con artist is trying to sell you something cheap, usually their flaccid ego on pathetic display.
I’m private there. So, if you are normal, too, reach out. We can communicate from a safe distance with our cherished images.
I’ll try to behave. For as long as I can. Until I don’t, and then…
Originally published at https://carolbankswebercoggie.wordpress.com on January 17, 2021.