I wasn’t meant to write this article.
Nope. I was going to write a witty political satire entitled “Cummings:
Return of the Messiah” but then a couple of things happened: firstly, I
remembered that I’m not funny. I think binge-watching comedy stand ups during
lockdown gave me some unearned confidence. Secondly, I found out on Friday (4th
May) that after weeks of applications, writing personal statements, completing
exercises and what not, I had secured a place to study an MA in Journalism at
university. Yippee! I felt like someone had plugged me into a mains and then
attached that mains to some gargantuan Star Wars inspired electricity-producing
monstrosity (can you tell I don’t do physics?).
I felt more alive than I had for some time.
You know the feeling, right? The sun seems to pulsate with more energy, more
vibrancy than it usually does. The air around you feels lighter - you feel like
if you allowed yourself to become any giddier you’d swell up like a balloon and
head straight towards the sky. Everyone and everything becomes fascinating, a
source of increasing satisfaction like throwing wood into a fire to make it
blaze brighter. Things that would usually drive you up the wall and across the
ceiling only add to your euphoric state. There is a feeling of universal love
and acceptance, as if the trees and the clouds and all other human beings are
part of one great ocean of consciousness expressing itself in a variety of forms
that…
…okay maybe I’m getting a bit carried
away here, but you get what I’m saying. Work seemed to fly by. The schedule
seemed easy, I had a pleasant conversation with a co-worker I’d never spoken to
before, and I was out of the door and back home quicker than a Boris Johnson
U-turn on free school meals. Underlying all of this happiness though, was a
sense of anticipation. My brain was trying to calculate when I would do “it.”
You can’t just do “it” you see, it requires some strategic thought. “It” is, of
course, announcing my achievement on Linkedin. The plan of action was simple:
I’d wait until mid-afternoon the next day. I would email the lecturers who
wrote my references to inform them of the good news and I would message my
friends, and then I’d sit down and compose my statement, my announcement, my
great siren call for attention. I gave it my everything.
My first sentence kicked
things off with a simple statement, you know, just a declaration of what had
happened. I am ashamed to say that initially, I followed this up with a
humblebrag. It was something about “entry being competitive” - the kind of words
that would make me want to plunge my face into a bowl of custard if someone
else wrote it, but which seemed perfectly fine in my electrically-charged
state. I then went on to outline my reason for taking the course and ended by
saying… wait, please promise you won’t laugh...okay… are you ready? I said that
our civilisation is a story, and I wanted to “learn how to capture the various
shifts in the narrative of our collective story.” I’m struggling to remove my
face from my palm.
It all felt so right at the time, though. The words seemed to burst out
as if I were merely a vessel for some great attention-loving energy that
radiates throughout the cosmos. All the while, I braced myself for the
hurricane of likes, celebration emojis and heart emojis… the queue of friends
and well-wishers who would give their congratulations. The moment came. With a beating heart, I
posted the statement. A few seconds later I frantically edited out the
humblebrag, and then I waited, poised, expectant. One like came through in
under one minute! A smile spread across my face and I gave a mental thanks to the
individual, who I knew from my first year at university.
The wait continued; a second minute went by. And then a third. Soon a
fourth. A fifth. At this point I told myself I really didn’t care, opened up
another tab and googled something. Two minutes later, I realised that I really
did care, so I went back. Eight whole minutes had passed and I only had one
like. Not only that, but I could see
that there were around thirty people who had seen the post and not reacted in any
way! The minutes continued to roll by slowly, painfully, and there was no
engagement.
I pretended to be uber- mature about the whole thing. It’s fine, I
thought. People have their own stuff to do and besides, this isn’t about
getting reactions it’s about updating my educational record. It’s obviously not
personal. Besides, you’ve posted it midday on Saturday which is probably one of
the worst times to post something on Linkedin! All of these thoughts raced
through my head. I tried to brush the whole thing off but I still felt deeply
unsettled for some reason, and then I felt bad about feeling bad because I was
obviously being so immature, so the whole thing seemed to spiral into a perpetual
loop of negativity. The electricity within me slowed down and then fizzled out.
I deleted the post. Best just to keep this one to myself, I thought, no shame
in it. Still, the question seemed to nag at me. Why, oh why did I care so much? And why couldn’t I stop caring?
I spent some time thinking about
social media, and why I wanted to be seen by people who didn’t know me, and in
all honesty probably didn’t care that much. Why do we find these apps so
addictive? Maybe we just want connection. We are tribal animals after all, and
we want to feel surrounded, supported, encouraged, popular, validated. That was
it - I wanted to be validated. I had assumed that quantity meant quality, and
that if large droves of people validated me and my achievement, that automatically meant that they both
increased in value when really, the only person qualified to attach any amount
of value to me or my actions… is me.
I would have been better off
just telling my friends. The time that I spent waiting for approval, for the
fresh baptism of affection that never transpired, could have been spent living,
really living in the present moment
with the people who cared the most. Maybe if I’d left the post up it would have
received more traction throughout the day (stop it Luke) but ultimately, I went
in with the wrong intention. There is nothing inherently wrong with doing a
post like that, it just has to come from a place of security within yourself,
not one of reaching out.
Anyway, the good news is that it gave
me something to write about this week. Cummings can eat his heart out. This
article will be posted on twitter and shared by myself - it’s not a
celebration, just a formal sharing of journalistic work, of course.
You can give it a like if you’re so inclined but it’s honestly fine, you don’t have to!
I genuinely don’t mind.
You
have my word.
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| Photo by Helena Lopes on Unsplash |
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