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Little by little, I’m becoming more vulnerable on this blog. What is Houston doing to me? It’s making me soft…

Or maybe it’s age. Or maybe it’s because I’m choosing to be more willing to share. It’s probably Brene Brown and Jamie Tworkowski, too. WHO KNOWS? But now I know that I’m circling…

Anyhow, I’m not talking professional life today, I’m talking about personal. And this may be my personal blog, but I find that Instagram is the top platform where I get pretty personal. With that being said, I can tell you that my Instagram is an inaccurate representation of my life. (But isn’t everyone’s Instagram?)

When I post things anywhere on the Internet, I try to be as authentic as possible. Even with my food puns. I choose not to post certain things. However, I never intend to mislead someone to thinking that I have some ideal life when there are times that home girl is crying while she watches a Shaytards vlog. Home girl is me, by the way. But I guess there’s a large part that is uncontrollable. Because people will piece together whatever they choose how to perceive your life. And it doesn’t matter how authentic or genuine you are trying to be. I’m still circling…

Here it is, TL; DR: If I post sad Instagrams, is that wrong? Am I searching for pity? If I only post happy Instagrams, am I being unauthentic? Will people think that I’m a back-door-bragger? Am I doing it to accumulate Likes, comments or is it something else?

I really think about these questions. Granted, I post [some of] them anyway, but there are those thoughts that cross my mind. I mean, what has it come to for me? Why do I worry? Why do I care? Am I overthinking it (this is what I tell myself a lot. It’s just a photo sharing tool.) What am I searching for? Am I searching at all?

What is driving my compulsion to share?

Here’s a real personal example: This past week hasn’t been the greatest week. It’s been filled with a little bit of everything: anxiety, disappointment, hurt, sadness. And I posted this Instagram. It may have been one of my most sad and honest Instagrams. It didn’t get that many Likes. Not as many as the one that followed, which was a “happier one.” Why is that? And then I think, why care? I shared a real moment. I wanted to, because it was accurate. I tried to end it on a good note, because in reality in my mind- no one wants to find a sad Instagram on their feed…and I didn’t either. 1) Because that’s a downer, no? but 2) With the sadness I felt, I am surrounded by people who wanted me to feel better, to talk with me, to spend time with me. I felt thankful and encouraged, and I had to share that moment of clarity.

Anyway, that’s how I Instagram. It’s a part of my life. Hello.

Feel free to piece what you think my life is (@thutexas). Or, feel free to share with me what you think about Instagram.

screen grab thu texas instagram

Update: I totally wrote a post similar to this, with similar feelings. So I guess I’m not a robot after all! 

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Instagram is the worst. I can’t deal with a zillion hashtags. I also can’t deal with selfie-dominated accounts. Who comes up with those popular hashtags (e.g. #tbt, #wcw, #vscophile, etc.)? But more importantly, how do I coin one?

#thuinfinityandbeyond

Instagram is the worst…and the best. In a battle of social media, it would be a toss up between Instagram and Twitter.
Ugh, I had the dumbest first Instagram, a picture of Pralinutta with the ‘1977’ filter. The concept of ‘Likes’ had not polluted my brain, and I was happy with 5 Likes. Oh, how the times have changed. Now if I don’t make the “Rule of 11,” the picture I take runs risk of getting deleted. It’s silly, right? I’m still trying to recover from the instant-gratification, filter-crazy, caption-obsessed life I once found myself entranced in. But I’m not so different from the selfie people, because I take selfies too.

Forgive me for being that girl, but I’m divulging a lot of personal secrets here. I know that I’m not the only one. I won’t name names, but I have had conversations with people just about Instagram. It’s no longer an app, it’s a concept. It turned into this THING that gives people a controlled identity. An idea of the person, anything but the real person. But I guess that’s understood with every social media platform.

My rant aside, I really do love Instagram. So I guess I’m not over it, and I probably won’t ever be over it. I like sharing the pictures from my adventures, “boring” or not. I try to keep it real, and I’m not trying to produce a fantastical image for myself. Other people will, but the more I think about it, I think it’s inevitable. There’s always (60% of the time) a question I ask myself before I Instagram: “Why?” Then I mentally smack myself on the head and refute, “Why not?”

You do you. Even if you hashtag every word, add 5 filters, and take selfies (no nudies, ok?) everyday.
But remember: Be aware, be present, and always check your grammar (please).

First Instagram

My first Instagram