The oversaturation of everything

my existential meltdown about the death of culture.

Well, friends, I did it. While I can’t deny that I’ve had a morbid, very human curiosity, I never really did have any aching, left out, fomo feeling about not being on TikTok. Being an aging millennial, coupled with the fact of having a significant other in cybersecurity, the thought of having, let alone actively participating in the wickedly smart, data-snatching application never seemed truly attainable, or really even a thought that crossed my mind. I see enough of its social culture regurgitated regularly on my other social media feeds and assumed at this point it was all painfully awkward sound bites being lip synced and dances involving heavy hip swaying and pointed elbow jabbing. And it is 100% most definitely those things, but it’s also so so much more terrible, bad, worse, scary, yikes. That is, at least, to me.

I had originally intended on writing about something completely different, with that topic being published this past Monday on the schedule that I’ve actually been proud to be keeping - that was, until, my downward, existential doom spiral after downloading and scrolling through TikTok.

It will come as a big big fat giant surprise to everyone that it was, in fact, Mike’s idea to unlock this Pandora’s box of chaos. In the spirit of “keeping up with the Joneses” he felt it only made sense if I wanted to expand the community of Junior Year, to explore the platform that has rocketed so many other people to the top of every algorithm. (Don’t worry, crafty, meticulous care has been put forth by his cyber wisdom and I am sitting siloed on my own network nonsense, far away from threatening the safety of his digital world.)

It’s been a week or so since I first opened the ooey gooey culture-sucking sludge monster— successfully scrolling myself into a deep, deep internet depression. Somewhere in the mixture of viral pimple popping clips (seriously, like what the fuck), get ready with me videos, and home tours, I had a complete meltdown on how the internet is just cultivating our need to feel validated. Validated in our taste, our wealth, our lifestyle, our homes, our fitness, our style, our hustle, grind, influence, consumption, etc etc etc etc. I exited out of the app feeling physically ill, deeply contemplating my relationship with the viral world, wondering if I could be aging out of the internet? Is this why we have zero attention span these days? Will you even have the attention span to make it through this newsletter? (I ask this earnestly, as I find I start to gloss over long paragraphs when I’m on my phone, a habit I am actively trying to break 😬)

Of course, this realization isn’t new to me because 1) I am a person who grew up alongside the internet now seeking internet validation in everything that at my core is who I am and 2) because I created this space to literally discuss the mental push and pull I put myself through when debating how much of myself to put online/I’ve complained about this moral and ethical conundrum in probably 90% of these newsletters. Yet, the amplification of these emotions live, breathe, and are fed by the ever changing, ever consuming algorithm screaming at me through my phone, computer, tablet, tv, etc etc etc. Somewhere between thrift tok, get-ready-with-me tok, and fashion tok, I had this churning-knot-gross-gut feeling about how everyone craves what feels like this wildly attainable immense fame and wealth — validation through possessing a heinously gluttonous Hermès Kelly handbag and dressing like the physical manifestation of the color beige. Hundreds and thousands of copies of copies of copies of copies of copies of copies……an infinite doom scroll of human culture and completely homogenous consumers.

This culture depression draws back to some of the thoughts I’ve been stewing on for quite some time now, best articulated from one of my old newsletters about not fitting into just one vibe.

“Something I’ve been mulling over this week is what the future holds for people who find themselves wondering if they can have a successful, long-term career on the internet without feeling like a trope “content creator” or “influencer.” It only recently occurred to me that the reality is the internet is here to stay and that marketing a product, business, or branding yourself as a business on the wide world web will likely not cease to exist for the rest of our lifetime. Even as part of the generation that watched the inception of the world wide web, this is a thought that comically has somehow had never crossed my mind before. For the amount of “death to influencers” colloquy floating around, it’s a fact that making money off of personal content will continue on, even if Instagram as we know it today eventually ceases to exist. Having a job “on the internet” will in some way be as common as someone who works “in an office.”

This was specifically in reference to *not* putting myself on TikTok and finding ways I can cultivate a community without feeling like I’m slinging sponsored shit left and right to fight for clout, priority placement on an algorithm, and the selling of my soul and dignity in exchange for free PR packages. I’ve seen a lot of content creator burnout recently, with people announcing their departure from the internet as a whole, leaving uninspired, overworked, and overwhelmed with the pressure of pumping out content, fighting with trolls, and hating the things that were once at the core of starting their channel/brand/community. There’s also a growing trend of people who are seeking the “deinfluencer” - someone who shares the reality of living on a modest budget, rewearing the clothes in their closet, sharing more of the honest, imperfect and mundane.

So where does one go from here? I told myself if I were to participate in TikTok it would be *for me* and me alone. I would use it as a tool to be creative, imagining up ways to express myself through video content, and to generally have fun. But does it speak to my 2023 energy of the jubilant, sumptuous baby? Dumb, frilly fun because the internet really doesn’t need to be serious. But the nervous, anxious energy of gnawing, clawing, hissing, fighting, oozing from my “For You” page has completely overwhelmed any excitement I had to just let go and to heck with it. Am I also just a copy of a copy? Do I have anything to say that hasn’t been said before? Am I capable of creating something that doesn’t make me absolutely die of cringe? The world doesn’t really need another GRWM to scroll past.

So I bring this debate to you, my friend. What social media do you prefer to consume? Are you on TikTok? Do you love it or hate it? What does your FY page show you? Do you feel closer or more distant to those you follow? Do you feel like community lives within the realms of the app? Where do you see the influencer/content creator going? What do you want out of someone who creates content? Long form or short form? Do you want them influencing you to consume? Or just a snippet into their lives and existence? What platforms do you enjoy consuming content on? YouTube?

I would love love love to hear how you’re consuming “people” on the internet not only because of my TikTok meltdown and the ever evolving world of pushing content, but because I am generally fascinated that as humans in the modern age we have decided what we love most is watching other humans be humans. (I’ve also been in a recent YouTube binge hole, and I have to say, I never exit YouTube feeling like the flaming garbage can I do when I exit out of TikTok.)

SO pleaaaaaase leave a comment or reply to this email and let me know what your content consuming life looks like. I want to know your thoughts, feelings, emotions about the internet and where you see it headed in this world filled with viral videos and content pushing. Let’s start a conversation.

Until next week,

xo,
G