When I was getting ready for work this morning, I thought, I wish that I could brush my teeth and make my bed at the same time.
In other words, optimize my morning routine.
And to what end? To get to my work emails more quickly? Prepare a balanced breakfast?
Open Instagram?
We live in the age of optimization, as the smartest people I don’t know, Jia Tolentino and Brandon Taylor, have separately pointed out. (Read Jia Tolentino’s Trick Mirror – this whole book knocked me flat and said so many things that struck my elder millennial body deep in its core. Brad is reading it now and I’m sure I’ll have some other word vomit substack about that later.)
Brandon Taylor (you should subscribe to his newsletter) tackled this via Wordle, a game that I love. Although, I introduced it to my mom, who couldn’t figure out how to play it, so I did a frustratingly step-by-step tutorial with her over text message (not optimized), which ended with her saying something like Oh, nevermind, guess it’s not for me. And then the next day, and every day since, I get texts from her that say “2/6” with a bunch of green squares as I’m panicking on row five with a bunch of grey and yellow.
Anyway, with Wordle, Brandon points out that we love to ask – what’s your first word?
What we’re really asking, though, is how do I get the answer more quickly? Which, fair.
But is that because Wordle is a game, or because we’re trained to having information immediately? Where is the line between competitive fun and expecting everything to be faster, better, more personalized?
Brandon is basically saying that we’re not asking for a first word because we’re genuinely curious or think it’s a fun insight into personality; it’s to use that word and to the answer more quickly, as effectively as an algorithm. It erases the individual experience and creates We, the People, the Optimized.
He illustrates this with examples of when he posts a quote or page from something he’s reading, and people ask where it’s from.
And he doesn’t tell them.
These people are probably not going to go out, buy the book, sit, read it, meditate on how the same quote affected them, discuss it, etc. They’re just used to always having an answer, and having it immediately. To sit with the unknown is an uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling on the Internet. (Remember, fellow elder millennials, going to the library for answers? God forbid it was a Sunday. I remember wanting to learn the lyrics to songs from Beauty and the Beast and my mom sat down with us to listen to the song over and over again and write the words out by hand, which after a few listens, I think my mom was like, this is awful. So I’m sure she’s grateful for optimization for that.)
My friend Jess, (who authors The Love List! Subscribe!) is what we like to call an influencer from Web 1.0. Think: blogs, before all this social media and himbo nonsense took over. Through that, she has a decent following of her internet personality. She says that often times she’ll post a photo of what she’s wearing, or a new chair she bought, or whatever, and people she does not know or has never engaged with before will respond, bluntly, “Link?” People are so used to getting the info they want that they forget the internet is filled with other people. She’s not a store; she’s posting something as a person, sometimes for referral links, sure, but other times, just because. Just like Brandon is posting a page that moved him. It pushes back on “putting the social in social media”, as we liked to say in 2012.
But now it’s 2022. Yes, you’re following me, but maybe this content™ isn’t for you?
Also, there’s Google?
I gave up Instagram for a while last year. I found myself opening it often for no reason. It was tiring me. I would see photos from people I don’t know. I would see lots of ads. But mostly the algorithm pushed me shirtless bros and bare, muscled hairy chests, which, while fun, was overwhelming and made me feel like a steaming dump of trash.
When I went cold turkey, I didn’t miss it. At all. I also didn’t announce it, like some folks do, because … me shifting my habits wasn’t for them. I never understand when people say they’re taking a break from a platform on the very platform they’re claiming to avoid.
As I would say to someone who talks in detail about their need to use the restroom: just go.
When I started toeing back into Instagram – (which, I just started writing why I did, and realized, I don’t owe you a reason for that either) – I decided to take inspiration from people I know, like Jess, and people I don’t, like Brandon. Rather than think really hard about what I’m going to post or what the narrative arc of my stories will be … I’m just going to post what I like. If I see a flower or a sunset, fuck it, post it. If the lighting on my couch is good and I take a selfie, fuck it, post it. I don’t (and can’t) care if the algorithm pushes it to you or not. The whole approach is a bit more scary (WHY IS POSTING A SELFIE SO TERRIFYING?) but also more freeing. When I send a photo of whatever moves me in the moment, I might then respond to a message from a friend, click on one or two stories, and sign out.
It’s a whole lot less stressful. Each day I’m spending about 10 minutes or so on the app. Which is a lot better than it used to be.
A big part of my day job is in social media – as a lot of our work is now, whether we’re in marketing or product or legal or whatever. We’re both brand and business with our online personalities, which is an odd tension. I often wonder if I’m more cynical about these things because I know more than the average bear about how it works. The platforms are targeting you – not the hypothetical, omnipresent you; they’re literally targeting you — based on your behavior to make you spend more time on the phone. (For example, despite unfollowing a huge number of accounts — sorry if this was you! — Instagram is still pushing me shirtless dudes to keep me on there. The heart wants what it wants; the algorithm does, too.)
We all know that these apps aren’t free. You might not pay a dollar, but you’re paying with your data, and, ultimately, your time and sanity. I’m not saying this is inherently evil or anything, but it’s a fact that is hard to translate into our day-to-day behavior and recognize it when it’s happening. It’s like going vegan while conveniently forgetting that you eat eggs in the morning. Once you look in the mirror, though, it can help you to keep a more emotional distance from the content™ and encourage you to engage with Real Life.
Which, by the way, is the title of a book by Brandon Taylor. You should put your phone down and go read it — it’s very good. Read any book for that matter, because the joy of that is discovering answers that are slowly revealed to you, nestled within the black ink on the page.
When something moves you — sure, post it.
Then put your phone back down and continue reading.
Even when people ask you where it’s from.
Because you don’t owe anyone anything.