The Filtered Life

Yesterday's post really got me thinking (yikes, you say, and you would be right) about what it means to be authentic. About whether that's even possible via one's writing (the personal kind, anyway) when that writing is public. About Instagram and how all those photo filters make us look good and feel good. About how I really want a red velvet cupcake right now.* 

Speaking of filters — I don't think Instagram was just a brilliant idea because of all the cool stuff it allows you do with your photos to make them look hipster-y. I think Instagram is amazetown (and a bit of a social commentary, really) because it helps us show ourselves to the rest of the world with cool filters applied that hide everything from the blemishes on our faces to the clutter on our kitchen countertops. It's kind of a metaphor, isn't it? For how we filter our lives, our appearance, our true selves before presenting those selves via the interwebs? 

I was playing with my phone camera last night, contemplating that "reverse" button that allows you to turn the lens on yourself and take a photo. This option always make me laugh, because every time it gets "accidentally" pressed and I take a photo of myself, I am awed by how truly bad that photo is, and I immediately delete it. But last night (God knows why), I decided to snap a couple of photos ON PURPOSE using that reverse camera button, and the exercise actually turned out to be quite liberating. I was wearing my oldest, ugliest t-shirt. My hair was all crazy and unkempt. My face (un-make-up-ed) looked tired and — big sigh — even a little haggard (least favorite word on planet). But I took the photos anyway. And I applied fun filters. And I posted them here. And by the end, I actually felt better about myself, not worse, even though my typical idea of "fun" doesn't include posting pictures of myself where I'm feeling like I just climbed out of a sewer.

Note for those who want to try this at home — and you should try this at home — the names of the filters (I used a site called Picmonkey to make further enhancements, which means I double filtered, oh boy) are delicious all by themselves: that penultimate one is called "Gritty," and the last one is (what else?) "Warhol." Warhol yourself! I promise it will put you in the best mood.

*Tangent: I tried to write this post last night but had to pause here because this is literally what came out of my momified brain: 9;lidjf[()))@)))**************oi cupcakes.

One last picture, because I want to show you the clutter — here's what I look like every single night. Hoodie. Hair in a frizzy bun. Mess and ugly red chairs behind me. Glazed-over look in my eyes. The end.