When I was 11 I had a cool teacher…
Mr. G was well-travelled, had an arsenal of great stories and tall tales, and his classroom was adorned with bits and bobs gathered from his travels over the years.
I do, however, remember him regretfully telling us that when he went to the Taj Mahal, he saw it through the lens of his disposable camera. That sounds crazy, right? Travelling over 5,000 miles to see one of the Wonders of the World and cramming such a sublime sight into the tiny window of an €8 camera.
“we’re perpetually online and always reachable – whether we like it or not”
But this was in 2006 and in a little under a year, everyone in my class would sign up to Bebo. And then Facebook. And eventually, Instagram. Instead of jamming our life experiences into a disposable camera, our generation had smartphone apps.
In the early days, logging on and logging off was a deliberate act signified by the sound of the dial-up internet (and sometimes, a family member angrily trying to use the landline).
Today, we’re digitally prodded and poked constantly. We’re perpetually online and always reachable – whether we like it or not.
A decade of Instagram
Instagram celebrated its 10th birthday in October. Since then, we’ve witnessed the rise of social media influencers, the normalisation of filtering the hell out of our selfies, and of course, the mystery that is Rebekah Vardy’s account.
Have your social media habits changed as you’ve gotten older? Mine certainly have.
When I started university in 2013, I was very much looking forward to the lifestyle portrayed in American coming-of-age films. At 18 and 19, I felt a self-inflicted pressure to always be posting something new, to perform my ‘wild college years’ out on a stage consisting of three horizontal squares.
“Instagram is a highlight reel”
For a while, I was more concerned with posting about ‘Having A Good Time’ than actually being present and creating memories in the moment.
I used to follow people and feel pangs of jealousy over how much cooler their college experience seemed to be, how popular they were, how their careers seemed to be taking off.
It wasn’t until I reluctantly entered my twenties that I realised how fictitious it all actually is. Instagram is a highlight reel and everyone’s profile is a carefully curated construct of their ideal selves.
“what gets lost is the vibrancy, and sometimes banality, of everyday life”
For me, this realisation was a freeing feeling.
Our social media profiles are a manifestation of our ideal selves, but what gets lost is the vibrancy, and sometimes banality, of everyday life. The stuff that makes us human. Our own individual idiosyncrasies. The vulnerability. The laddered tights, the empty crisp packets, the dead plants.
I feel there will be a change of attitude in a Zoom-fatigued post-pandemic world.
We won’t be worrying about capturing an Instagrammable moment on our next day out, because what matters will be right in front of us. The loved ones we’ve missed dearly, the meal from our favourite restaurant that’s been closed all year, the cold draught pint we’ve ached for.
So, as we tentatively shake off the lockdown cobwebs in the coming months, let’s take Mr. G’s advice from 15 years ago and truly savour every experience without worrying about the perfect snap.
Elaine McCallig
Featured image courtesy of Juliana Malta via Unsplash. This image has in no way been altered. Image license is available here.
