There’s a quote from the film The Social Network that circulates my pea brain on a frequent basis. It’s not one of my usual soppy, over cringey classics, yet it’s accuracy for 2015 life hits me hard- like when my dog runs into my legs. Regardless of hound injuries (digressing in paragraph one is a great start) I fervently retweet / re blog this perfect little line, before laughing at a few cat videos and closing the lid on my built like a brick shit house Toshiba laptop.
“As if every thought that tumbles through your head is so clever it would be a crime for it not to be shared. The Internet’s not written in pencil, Mark, it’s written in ink.”
Compared to my usual Twitter feed, this little quote would give the impression there’s more to this blonde over sharer than poo tales and failed date stories (doubtful) but it is something we all do need to consider. We all blissfully sail through our feeds and timelines, partaking in daily oversharing orgies – and we all fucking love it. Why do we feel the need to report every infinite detail of our mundane lives in such a permanent way? As we type our 140 word stories, consequences aren’t considered and we forget that in 4 years time we’ll face palm ourselves for writing such bollocks. We are emotional sluts. Facebook status’ have people’s diaries, Instagram accounts are our family albums, and while we seek validation through posting such things, we forget that these most personal moments are locked perpetually online.
Oversharing comes in many forms. I personally choose to overshare about failed dates, poonani hair thoughts and tales of my dog vomming on my bed. Some divulge the intricate details of their kale-with-gluten-free-fun-free-salad-and-quinoa lunch , while others believe the world wishes to see ten thousand images of their teething toddler. However you choose to overshare, if you have an online presence, you do it and we are all engraving details of our lives onto a permanent online wall without considering the consequences.
Give it 50 years and no longer will Historians dig up mummified bodies and artifacts to learn about their ancestors, but instead they will gently open the online door to our pasts and be swarmed by over edited selfies, poorly composed opinions and videos of people falling over. Is this what we want to be remembered as? The generation who type before they think? I regularly question my sexuality as I drool at the beautifully perfected Instagram accounts of other bloggers, yet sometimes fear the image of 2015 women we’re portraying is not accurate. I sometimes see more tit and boob on Insta than when I log onto porn hub. We appear to know more about MAC makeup than current affairs. I’m not sure it’s right, and god knows how to change it, but we are definitely the oversharing generation. We log on and outstretch our hands into the online darkness, unknowing to what future stamp we’re leaving. Sod footprints in the mud, we’re leaving a sexualised, alcohol fueled tit prints on our online feeds.
In celebration of this momentous realisation, I give you the best TMI / oversharing posts the internet has to offer. *please stop scrolling now if you don’t find poo photos funny. Maybe my blogs not for you at all, actually.