Our cherry tree has raccoons now!
In a few weeks, I expect to see this:
I did take a photo of the raccoon so that the next time I’m at a party, I’ll go around showing everyone this dark, grainy photo that suggests the possibility of a raccoon in a tree. People will then acknowledge my proof by giving me a thumbs up. Moments later, the brown-haired guy drinking Phillips Blue Buck on the couch will show me a photo of his bike leaning against a tree. I give him a thumbs up. The lady next to him–also brown-haired and drinking Phillips beer–then shows me a close-up of the latte macchiato she had earlier. I’ll be blown away by the quality of the photo and appreciate how the biscotti on the side ties together the photo.
I’ll tell her, “I don’t drink coffee (I base my personality around the fact that I’m not a coffee drinker), but that biscotti is making me hard.” She’ll find my comment off-putting, but because I was the only one who cared to say anything, she’ll give me a thumbs-up anyway.
The entire party is pretty much just people giving each other the thumbs-up without saying much, with mattress advertisements thrown in for good measure. This is how weird Instagram really is.
I wrote a 1,000+ post fussing about mattress ads on Instagram in January. Exhausted of all the ads, I temporarily deactivated Instagram and then went to sleep on the mattress I already had. Then, April rolls around, and I find myself unemployed and somehow missing human interaction. COVID-19 pushed me back to Instagram.
I soon realized that most of those people were pathetic. Even the ones who were using Insta to shine a light on social justice issues. Why? Most of them knew me in some capacity, and even if we’d only ever interacted online, they knew I was deaf. When they’d upload an audio-centric monologue to their stories, they knew I wouldn’t understand a thing and left it at that. Their Insta accounts were all just egalitarian window dressing.
This post was my response to this mass oversight. It currently has 87 views. In an Insta story, I mentioned a speech-to-text app that would automatically caption their uploads. More than 87 people saw this story. Only one person started captioning their stuff, and even then, that lasted just a week.
When I’d upload a video of myself signing, it’d be either followed by a transcript or would have a text overlay of what was being said. And all three videos I’ve uploaded to YouTube have captions. Don’t come to me about how much work it is, you lazy, unimaginative fucks.
I fucking hope those people don’t go around telling people they associate with someone who’s deaf because it goes nicely with their social justice persona.
I don’t want to associate with these people anymore. So, what do I do? Block them.
Nah, I didn’t do that.
I permanently deleted my Insta: I didn’t want to deal with the constant mattress ads either. If you happened to be one of those, “I could have done it, but I didn’t feel like including you,” people who want to plead your case so that we can stay on good terms, you’re better off adding “…and she was a cunt” when you tell people you used to know someone deaf.
In a recent post, I mentioned how a box containing photos from my teen years went missing. This box also contained my high school yearbooks. I don’t remember my senior year blurb exactly, but it began with this quote:
“Some people have a large circle of friends, while others have only friends they like.”
I’m going back to being that person.