Sunday, May 27, 2012

Instantly Hidden, Instagram

I have to rant. Which is the point of this blog, remember? (See: Introductions Are Like Salmon) This is the part where I get to act like my opinion holds more sway than everyone else's. Because it's my blog! Wonderful.

Instagram. Wonderful app, right? Filters! Cropping! Sharing and subscribing! I've never seen so many awesome amateur photos as I have since Instagram hit the scene. And here is where the accolades run out, my homies.
Instagram & FaceBook: Horrible combination. Now, say what you will about FaceBook. Call it the Great Uniter, or say that it tears people away from the day-to-day, so that they may feel inadequate about their own lives. Regardless, it is powerful. And it is public. And it is a window into the thoughts and lives of others. So here I be, and imagine my surprise. I'm scrolling down my feed, as I am wont to do, and enjoying learning more about my friends and family. And then in the midst of it all, what do I see? A picture of your Chinese takeout.
Seriously? You have this incredible digital platform to present yourself on, in any way that you see fit. This is your Avatar! This is your digital manifestation of your own self! This is the Matrix! And what makes you interesting? Beef and broccoli with a sepia filter. You just lost my vote. I understand (as well as I can) that it may be a cultural thing, but come now. No one is as interested in your food as you are.
Now granted, there is hypocrisy here, as I rant and rave on this blog of blogs, expecting you to be as interested in my opinion as I am. All I can say, is that if you are reading this, you just might care a little, which makes me blush a little. Oh you.

 Don't post pictures of your cat. Everybody has a cat. Everybody's cat does cute things. Everybody's cat sleeps in funny positions. Everybody's cat does cat things.
Don't post pictures of your homework.
Don't post pictures of your text conversations.
And don't post pictures of your food.

Thank you, goodnight.
(I just had to get that off of my chest.)

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