When I think of the bloggersphere, I think of Twitter. I think of groups of sassy twenty-something gals engaging in scheduled chats with each other. I think of them liking my tweets or helping me with a tech question because WHY HAS MY LAPTOP BROKEN. I think of happy people. I think of women who lift each other up, support each other, give credit where credit is due. I think of people who make me feel less lonely when I’m working from home. I think of people who make this whole living online thing a whole lot friendlier and smilier and chipper. I think of good people.
And I like this idea of the bloggesphere. I like this idea that we are all championing each other and virtually throwing fist pumps. Because y’know, girl power is pretty blinkin’ ace.
But recently, well, recently things seems a little bit sadder. A little bit more negative. A little less sunny.
I’ve seen vague and ambiguous tweets thrown in every direction. Throwing ‘shade’ as the kids are calling it, without naming names.
And y’know what? I’m throwing my hand up and saying I personally feel victimised by Regina George.
Regina George being the name given to random bursts of I HATE IT WHEN BLOGGERS DO BLAH.
When you tweet something about ‘bloggers’, you might be directing it at one or two or even three people who have done something that makes your eyes roll all the way over to 2027. But you are making one or two or even three HUNDRED or maybe thousand bloggers, wonder if that tweet is about them.
You’re adding a little tiny dusting of anxiety and OMG AM I THAT AWFUL SHOULD I QUIT to people without even realising.
How many times have you wondered if you’re the meant recipient for a cryptic internet comment?
Maybe some tweets are aimed at me. Maybe I am the worst. Maybe I post too much. Maybe what I post isn’t good enough. Maybe I need to up my photos. Maybe I should do less sponsored posts. Maybe I shouldn’t make money from this. Maybe I should shy away from marble or peonies. Maybe I should spend longer having banter with spellcheck and less time hanging with other bloggers. Or maybe, maybe I should just keep doing me.
Because I get that we have a free voice and a free opinion, but is it worth utilising that with the hope of bringing down others?
I know I’m not blameless in this. I know I’ve made passing comments in posts and tweets over the years. I know I’ve probably added a little cloud to someone’s sunny day without stopping to even think about it. Without imagining if that was me or putting myself in the other position. Without imagining how would it make me feel.
You can’t be a nice person all the time. You just can’t. Sometimes you’re tired and sometimes you’re on your period and sometimes people just make you want to claw all your own skin off, but what’s it going to achieve by making digs at them? By letting people know they’re annoying you?
Are they going to change for you? Probably not. Should they change for you? Never.
Moan to your boyfriend or best friend. Send hideous things in your WhatsApp groups. But don’t air everything online because really, what’s it achieving?
Sometimes I think in my head OH GOOD ANOTHER FUCKING DESIGNER BAG. And then I stop and I wonder why that’s offended me. Why I’m hating on a stranger for owning something I don’t have. And I realise it’s because I don’t own it and I can’t afford to own it and I’m full of angst that my blog hasn’t skyrocketed and I’m still stuck with a bag collection that’s 50% made up of Primarni’s finest. I realise that it is, in fact, just sheer and utter jealousy at its finest. And as soon as I see that in myself, I stop.
Maybe that person’s doing something better than me or maybe that person started earlier than me, or maybe it’s just sheer luck. Or maybe that person played a game to get to where they are and maybe it’s not fair. But life isn’t fair, and we can’t spend too long dwelling on that reality. We just got to move the eff on and work out how’s best to play our own cards.
The point of blogging, or at least the way I like to think about blogging, is to give anyone and everyone their own space to write about the things that want to write about. It is meant to be a hobby, something to enjoy in your spare time without stress. A creative outlet that brings a little bit of relief to everyday life. And not something that’s critiqued and torn apart publicly by virtual strangers. Because, hey, where’s the fun in that?
Surely we should be empowering each other and bouncing off each other’s energy and spirit and motivation? We should be encouraging each other and congratulating each other, we should be doing high fives, we should be being nice.
Because what’s the point in life without nice?
Without friendliness and smiles and love and support?
Maybe this is too twee and maybe this is unrealistic, but surely in a life that’s full of bad things every single bladdy day, we could all do with being a bit nicer to each other?
So here I am, declaring to you all, that going forward, I’d like to be one of the good eggs. I’d like to think more about who could read the things I write, and think about whether it’s worth it. Whether it’ll achieve anything? Or whether I’m just hoping to ruin someone’s good day all so I can make the most out of free speech.
And on that note, I’m off to offer up my opinion to Chris on why he should drive me to McDonald’s for a McFlurry. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday evenings, boos <3