Let’s be clear right off of the rip.
The internet used to be a playground for humans.
Now?
It’s a portfolio-packed dystopia of performative flexing.
Everyone’s a CEO, a guru, a brand. (Boring. Exhausting. Lies.)
We’ve turned social media into work media, and now the planet’s drowning in LinkedIn posts that taste like burnt toast and despair.
We need to get back to doing things badly and loving it.
Sing loud in your car. Off-key. To ABBA. Let the guy in the next lane judge you.
Bake bread that looks like a deflated football. Post the photo captioned “Feast your eyes on my cement loaf. DM for recipe.”
Dance alone in socks on a Friday afternoon. No reels. No hashtags. Just bad moves and good vibes.
Fail publicly…
Your sourdough starter died? Perfect.
Your garden’s 90% dandelions? Art.
Did your kid’s “science fair project” involve glitter explosions and a small fire? Frame that shit.
We’ve forgotten how to celebrate attempts instead of achievements.
Screw perfection. Give me stories about burned casseroles and Zoom calls where your cat barfed on the keyboard.
Reclaim the world social…
Social media isn’t your client’s billboard. It’s supposed to be… social. Swap the humblebrags for humble human
“Here’s me eating cereal for dinner because adulting is fake.”
“Folded laundry! (It’s in a heap. I’m calling it abstract art.)”
“Found this rock. It’s my friend now. #Rockstagram”
Yes, your job matters. But you aren’t your job.
You’re a chaotic spark plug of niche hobbies, 3am thoughts, and questionable life choices.
So share the mess. The weird. The nothing.
The world’s on fire. Algorithms are eating our joy.
So let’s all agree to stop commodifying our humanity and start smashing the “aesthetic” with a sledgehammer of authenticity.
Be cringe. Be kind. Be bored. Be bad at stuff.
The revolution is just an unmade bed, a half-finished crossword, and you. Flawed, glorious, alive.
Now go touch grass. Literally.
And don’t go gently into the weekend.
Stephen Walker
P.S. Gonna be doing some drawing and painting again after taking a very long break from it. So at least the squirrels will leave me alone…
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Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom