Influenced Pt.1
Are influencers the ultimate anti-Capitalist?
The internet is making me dumber.
Literally, stupider, like I’m living in Jupiter.. like as soon as I started typing this I’m already thinking “Who the heck wants to read another piece about the internet?” Not that that has anything to do with this piece (maybe it does?), but I guess that’s just my insecurity coming out.
Let me set the scene — I’ve been elbows deep in TikTok for a client, on a project I’ve been working on over the past month (I hate that sentence already) and it’s made me realize 3 things.
The internet is easily one of the scariest places on Earth.
Double cleansing needs to be added to my skincare routine.
I am on the wrong side of influencer marketing.
For hours I stare at my tiny screen, sometimes my laptop because, Millenial, and watch mostly women tell me about how they get Glass Skin, the best products they’ve found on the most convenient e-commerce platform of our time, and the miracle item that has turned their life around.
Sleepy eyed and somehow still full of enthusiasm, these women don’t miss a beat while they go through their GRWM routines and showcase each product with a particular tap, tap, tap of their nails that will make you want to instantly hit the BUY NOW!!! button.
This particular project may not be the best fit for a person who is actively trying to detach from a Capitalist lifestyle and failing kind of miserably at it, but bills, but expenses, but $10 blueberries.
I’ve been influenced.
My curiosity has been piqued.
I’m in semi-deep.
Something I’m truly upset about though, is that I can no longer disassociate on the internet. I can no longer doom scroll or LOL at the dumb memes that make me feel more understood than any therapist ever has. The joy of puppy ASMR is long gone because my retinas are being burned at the stake by the blue light emanating off of the scroll screen. By the time my work day is over I want to throw my phone to the bears living outside of my house, although they would have no idea what to do with it.
No, we are the idiots who have allowed these devices to seep into our souls and take away our brain cells.
Surely I can’t be the only one that feels this way. Surely I can’t be the only person who works in social media who has a literal distain for it after a certain time of day. Surely I can’t be the only one who is addicted to the tiny rectangle that holds all of my secrets and insecurities.
The harsh reality though, is that I act like a scorned lover who never got over the one who got away. Social media, once a place I loved and felt a strong sense of community, is still actually a place where all of this is possible; I know it because I am the masked ring leader of a few of them.
I’m on the backend as I watch the hearts fly in and the fake newspaper arrow shines red in the top right corner, I’m the one actively making that happen. The comments of “You got this!” and “This is awesome!” are coming from my fingertips. The engagement strategies and shareable graphics are being created from my brain. I am social media.
I do my best to keep my lower case work from brushing up with my upper case Work, but sometimes they become intertwined, sometimes one really does intersect with the other, sometimes I just need to yent about it and get it all out of my system.
My achy knees and popping shoulders are a tell tale sign this was going to happen. I should have known that at my first TikTok login, the 1988 in me would intercept every comment and exclamation point I make on a post, I could have called it.
Frankly, I’m just jealous of all the glass skinned beauties and product slinging honies out there doing their thing. Their personal pizazz and cold blooded confidence helping them cash in and pay their bills, support their families, buy themselves a Birkin, or do whatever the fuck else they want with their hard earned cash. I know that doesn’t sound very anti-Capitalist of me, but I’m spitting facts at this point. They’ve said ‘fuck the system and a 9-5’ and are racking in $$$ from the comfort of their own bathrooms. They have assistants and managers and people who send them free shit up the wha-zoo, they’re making their own rules and showing off their own sauce.
They’re doing it on their terms and that’s fucking metal.
