‘Don’t think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it’s good of bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.” – Andy Warhol
Hey guys, welcome to this week’s millennial crisis. How ya’ll doing?
Today I updated my Instagram bio, because if it’s not condensed into the strict character count of an Instagram bio then who am I really? This tiny addition to my online existence was little more than a passive aggressive FU to the world of content creation, which I love and loath almost instantaneously. My new bio simply reads, ‘writer first, blogger inconsistently’ because no matter how much I pretend to have my blogging shit together, I still don’t know how to manually focus my camera (why are there so many numbers?) and I have only just learned how to add the no follow thing to my blogger links. If someone can explain why that’s a thing, I’d be eternally grateful.
So my new Instagram bio made me feel better. Why? Because I am a millennial and I struggle with my identity on the weekly. If you don’t follow me on Instagram, congratulations. You haven’t been bombarded with the inconsistencies of my brand image. But just so you have an idea…on a good day I’m ‘original’ and on a bad day I’m wondering how to subtly delete 245 of my photographs and pretend they never happened.
I can’t be the only blogger/creator/artist who feels like they want to ‘start again’ every time an image gets slightly fewer likes than the last or when 100 people sporadically unfollow you like a tidal wave of instarejection.
I don’t have a strong brand image, but here’s what I do know about myself: I am inconsistent. My head is in the clouds most of the time. I get obsessed with stuff, like selling plates, becoming a wedding planner or opening a shop. Just ask 17-year-old me who had a legitimate plan to casually bump into Zac Efron and make him fall in love with me. I am spontaneous in the worst of ways. My creative process is this: see something, crash into a wall. I dream up borderline crazy ideas, such as buying a flat in Chelsea, making friends with Jamie Laing and becoming the newest member of Made in Chelsea. I honestly believe I’ll win the lottery at least three times a month and I have bookmarked the grand houses I’d like to buy when it happens. I take compliments too seriously and believe I can turn whatever it is into a business. I think about starting an Instagram account for my dog all the time – ditching myself as a brand and relying on her. Right now I am full on addicted to a paper train ticket I found being used as a bookmark inside an old book.
I am full of nonsense.
For example, what is it about my personality that makes me want to start collecting old clocks just because I see a box of them outside an antiques shop? They are 99% useless and yet immeasurably fascinating to me. I start subconsciously reorganising my house so that I can store and fix all these clocks before selling them on. I needed TWO people to talk me out of buying them. TWO.
You can imagine then, the sort of batshit cray that goes through my head when it comes to Instagram. Instagram is desperate for me to tell it who I am – to choose a theme and stick to it. But I won’t do it! My USP is inconsistency. I suck at blogging sometimes. I go months without posting anything and then I jump back on the train as if i’ve been there the whole time. Like guys, why are my page views down why aren’t you doing YOUR bit?! *cough cough*
I’ve tried sticking to a theme, sticking to a thing, but it just isn’t me. I’m owning my USP and holding my hands up to inconsistency! If that makes me a terrible ‘online influencer’ then that’s cool. I have a story I need to tell and I’m gonna use Instagram to do it.
Who am I on Instagram? I’m human. I am more me on Instagram than I am anywhere else. My passions change all the time and naturally social media reflects it. I’ve been doing the wrong thing up until now – I’ve been getting cross with myself and being all FFS GEORGI who are you trying to kid? You can’t be a clean eating guru one day and eat a fat slice of victoria sponge the next. Actually yes I can. I’m 99% gluten-free and 1% bent over in agony with a hot water bottle because I LOVE PIZZA. That’s me in real life and I’m not going to apologise about it.
I don’t know what i’ll be making, eating, writing about next week but I’m excited to find out and i’m excited to share it. Because at the end of the day the writer in me is just trying to experience everything at once, boxes of old clocks included.