Polly Vernon

CONFESSION TIME: I’m a social media hypocrite.

I say one thing, then post quite another. For years, I’ve raged against the rampant narcissism of selfie-taking… yet about three months ago, I started selfie-ing, too. I now find myself in the indefensible position of knowing all the awful things I ever thought/said/wrote about why people take selfies are absolutely true (they really are just heavily filtered farces designed to make exes regret dumping you, and women you went to school with, jealous), while also getting really good at them (a pop of something red + a facial expression which suggests I don’t take myself very seriously + an amusing caption = many, many Likes!).

I moan about Twitter, but check it compulsively. And I pretend I hate Instagram inspirational quotes, because I am far too nuanced and clever… when, actually, I am as capable of feeling like I’ve been smacked over the bonce by the clarity stick after reading the seven short words that just popped up on some Victoria Angel’s feed as the next daft bint. I can find truth in a personal trainer’s hashtag. I am a reluctant Inspo-ho.

But really: who isn’t? My friend B lives her life according to what she calls her ‘quotes ’n’ notes’, the most meaningful Instagram quotes that fall into her feed, and the notes she makes on her iphone whenever anyone says anything insightful. Worryingly, that can include me. ‘ Wait, stop!’ B demands, as I’m mid-flow on any topic from egg freezing to online dating. She’ll produce her phone, make a careful note of the last sentence that tripped from my lips and tag it for later reference. This worries me because, let’s face it, I am blagging here. Blagging hard. My intentions are good, but I don’t

really know what I’m talking about. I’ve told B this; she says she doesn’t mind: ‘It all goes into the wisdom pot.’ She’s hoping, I guess, to cook up a giant wisdom stew eventually. Aren’t we all?

Inspo quotes and iphone notes are the modern world’s idea of philosophy. Psychology for the Wi-fi-enabled, but attention deficient. God in memes. But are they OK? Light relief for the online age? The latest expression of our eternal quest to throw everything we have at being a little happier? Or are they bad? Too simplistic, too one-size-fits-all? In becoming more reliant on the one-liner pseudo-smarts of others, are we becoming less capable of sorting out our own shiz? Don’t ask me! I mean, I’d try and work it out, but I’m kinda busy right now: being a flamingo in a flock of seagulls, giving out the energy I want to attract, dancing like no one’s watching, et cetera.