Going to rant a bit about a thought that’s really caught my head recently
You don’t necessarily own your own attention. The algos and the ads are literally maximizing their ability to draw your attention away.
To own your face. To own your time.
Everyone’s competing for it, from the music you turn up on your headphones to the panhandler’s story of his bad break. The clever ads for start-ups to the rotating cast of Poetry-in-Motion, to all the Museum exhibits. The books you read, the articles you’re scrolling through, the podcast you can’t stop binging.
Time is everything, and everyone is fighting for yours.
It’s overwhelming. It can feel like we’re not in control. But we can break the inertia and make moves with purpose and intention.
Facebook and Instagram recently changed their algo, if you’ve noticed. Lots more friends, lot less ads. But play around with your feed. Start liking random stuff or a certain friend’s posts. You’ll see the math is flexible and adaptable with only a few consecutive days of behavior.
It’s learning. It’s trying to get you to keep scrolling, so whatever you like, it will push. Like a dealer that moves through volume; any mention of another avenue, and she’s all over it.
The code is really good at it. I’ve spent hours, after midnight, thoughtlessly scrolling. Not even because I want to, but because I can’t turn away.
It’s not fun, it’s not engaging, it’s almost boring. Yet some thread keeps me just curious enough to let the auto play finish. Until it’s been 2 hours…
And then I’ll refresh Insta, Snap, Twitter in that order.
But that’s what I mean. We don’t own our own attention. I’d honestly rather be sleeping, but somehow the math has found to hack my brain at the lowest level.
I hate it. I hate the feed. I hate the thoughtlessness. I hate the wasted time.
I hate that my phone is boxing bytes of my attention, shipping them to our internet overlords, to puzzle how to get better at getting more boxes/bytes of my eyeholes. [They’re delicious.]
Worst of all, I hate that we’re either passively accepting this or actively feeding it; trying to get 15 minutes [Ha! More like 10 seconds] of fame. Sated zombies, feeding/feasting on whatever’s placed in front of our maws, with barely a thought or fight. Bystanders to our own lives, camera lens instead of eyeballs, less for the moment than to garner the envy and attention of our “friend’s” list. [JT’s Superbowl Selfie?]
That I’d want to impress the strangers on the internet rather than the strangers in front of me rather than the person in the mirror.
Stop it. Stop playing in to the apathy.
Start doing thing because you want to do it. Fuck youtube, fuck Stories, fuck hashtags, fuck retweets.
Those are to be the marketing tools that display your crowning achievements or humanizing failures or the relentless grind. They can be art forms themselves, plays on color and style, troupes and invention.
But know this.
They are not the measure of your success. They are not the rulers of your fate or determinate of your skills.
They aren’t masters. They are servants. Bend them, succumb them to your will.
Fight the feed. Find things that engage you. Do things that you love, even if they’re harder. Find running highs or thrift store steals or the flaming +6 Blade of Woe. Fail a pick-up line, twist an ankle (mildly), forget your line. Walk outside, try a new restaurant, cook yourself a perfect over easy egg. Do something that matters to you. Do something demands a better version of yourself. That is worthy of your attention, your time. Honestly, do anything. There are no rules here.
Hell, even social media with a purpose if you want. Youtube is a legit career starter. Share videos that truly make you laugh. Or post caption happy Instagrams to push to your audience! [#poetrycommunityofinstagram]
Fuck the Feed.
Fight the Feed.
You will win. I promise.
Or go on listlessly scrolling. Bored into oblivion but unable to turn it off. I hope you scroll through my blog again, exactly as you currently are, as long as you’re happy. Who am I to judge you?
Let me know in the comments if I’m one to judge!
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Peace and elbow grease!
Winston
