No. 24: Capitol Curiosities
Today I was reminded by Timehop (an app I have to remind me of such things) that I started this newsletter two years ago today. Scrolling through my archives I wasn’t sure if I had been doing this for one year or two. Even with a record, it all blends together to me—I can only imagine how you feel about it all.
Rereading those entries, I feel the cringe of recognition, but also the compassion of perspective. I’m leaving a record primarily for myself. A living document and instruction guide as to how to keep living:
It gets better,
but it feels the same.
It’s not all smooth sailing,
but the nice skies are worth it.
The Libra rising in me wants to strike a balance when that’s rarely possible, at least for more than a moment. Or maybe that comes from being raised by a mother with a sun in Libra. I was born on a full moon, and today is a new moon; 0% illumination. Nothing is visible, but the darkness rarely lasts forever. Something always tips the scales. Out of control as to what stays and what goes. Why is it so hard to maintain an equilibrium?
I recently joined tiktok after a few people urged me to try it out. I’m stubborn and crochety and getting more technology-averse with each passing moment. But I also realized yet again, nothing matters.
What do I have to lose?
I like the unhinged vibe of tiktok; it feels like public television at hyper speed and higher definition. The ups and downs happen so quickly and frequently, sometimes predictably, sometimes not, I became very involved in Alabama’s bizarre rush rituals this week, thanks mostly to Anne Helen Peterson’s instagram stories, which I follow because I subscribe to her newsletter; everyone connected to everyone else, the false promise of social media. More connected, less connection.
My second post, a sort-of-how-to video detailing the construction (and partial destruction) of my hot dog shelves got more engagement than I expected it to.
It’s fun,
for now.
I said this about the apartment therapy post about my previous apartment: it’s vulnerable to be yourself—whatever that feels like to you—in “public,” and there’s nothing more public than millions of people you’ll never meet dissecting some aspect of you. The thrilling roulette of intersecting timelines.
At the same time the hot dogs were “racking” up “views,” a facebook post ripped from the apartment therapy article also “went” a bit “viral.” To me, that meant it got 300+ comments that came in at such a clip I could refresh the post daily for the chance that someone would say something nice or hurtful or bizarre or worse yet—discover that no one is talking about me at all.
People were mostly being nice, but it eventually devolved into conspiracy theories and men telling me I’m cute (ugh, thanks I guess—allegedly!!). Facebook is the wild west of social media platforms, with everyone dropping in to tell you you’re inspiring, you’re wrong, you’re beautiful, or to remind you that you have feet—they mean the compliments but the mean comments hurt more, and it’s a hard flood gate to close one its opened.
What would we do without each other?
Maybe tiktok is just another evil entity engineered to rot our teeth and our minds. Sure, it’s probably “stealing” or “data” like every other facet of modern life—let china have it all. Maybe they can make some sense of it. Report back, comrades. It’s a pretty great video editing app. I’ve taken hundreds of terrible video clips in the past few days, feeling like scorcese and I edit and score my own short films. Late to the party as usual, but I finally understand the hype. Hey fellow kids, have you heard of something called tiktok?
There’s a lot of joy out in the world.