While writing my last post, I skimmed through my Flickr archives, which contains about 10,000 photos. Many have been set as private, not because they’re scandalous, but because a good chunk of them are completely mundane photos that nobody wants to see. I shared some of the more amusing ones with Yann, who remarked that it was strange how I had a vast collection of snapshots of ordinary things such as a cuppa matcha latte, a box of latex gloves, store-bought apple pie, and an out-of-focus photo of a former co-worker eating charred vegetables.
I’m a pioneer of over-sharing on the internet. This behaviour is now openly embraced through apps like Snapchat or Instagram. I was doing something socially acceptable 10 years earlier than most!
Allow me to take you guys on a mundane stroll down memory lane:
March 9, 2009 – A clump of rice noodles.
The comments under this one were quite good. By 2009 standards, at least.
“That’s the sorriest lunch ever. It lets you win every time at Sorry.”
“it looks like sumo poop”
November 16, 2005 – A macro shot of the dirty sole of my right shoe, with my olden roommates in the background, one of whom is flipping me off while talking on her flip phone.
Yes, this is the same roommate who flung doll parts into a tree.
November 9, 2011 – I’ve been saying unsavory things about Cosby for a while.
As an aside, I spent hours making those intricate fridge magnets which are totally a choking hazard. I enjoy cramming detail into trivial objects.
August 16, 2005 – A flyer for the hottest bible school.
I don’t understand what the cartoon character on the bottom right is supposed to be, but if the Lord says, “Let there be snacks,” I shall follow.
Much worse photos exist on my Flickr account, but I cannot scroll through 10,000 pictures in a few hours. If I scrolled through each photo at the standard frame rate for films, it would take nearly seven minutes to see every photo I’ve ever uploaded!
In 2019, oversharing is encouraged, but you’re also encouraged to be casual about it. Ironically bashful selfies only, please. Rub your vacation in people’s faces, but not too hard. Share your meal, but only visually.
Isn’t the point of social media to connect people? On Instagram, I can see who views my stories, most of whom don’t even post their own stories. Is it that if we reveal too much about ourselves too quickly to people who hardly know us, we’ll scare them off?
Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t like my humour? We’re not meant to be friends, then! I’ve found that deaf people tend to open up much quicker than hearing people. We have a smaller pool of potential friends to choose from; we don’t like subjecting one another to hollow banter for months before finally getting intimate.
When I left high school, a place where I had constant exposure to other deaf people, I quickly discovered how hearing people found my openness to be off-putting. When I mentioned this to my hearing friend Mélissa when we were in Patagonia together, her response was, “Yeah, you are weird. But that’s what I like about you.”
Although I’ve changed how much or little to reveal about myself over the years, I haven’t changed. I do know how to boil rice noodles properly now, though.
On another note, my About Me page got an update last week.