“Set fire to your old self. It’s not need-

ed here. It’s too busy shopping, gossip-
ing about others, and watching days go 
by and asking why you haven’t gotten 
as far as you’d like. This old self will die 
and be forgotten by all but family, and 
replaced by someone who makes a dif-
ference.

Your new self is not like that. Your 

new self is the Great Chicago Fire—over-
whelming, overpowering, and destroy-
ing everything that isn’t necessary.”

-Julien Smith, The Flinch

I tried to be good at Instagram. 
Really.
Over Spring Break, I met a group of 

girls who were all good at Instagram. 
Like, tens of thousands of followers 
good. When we hung out, we would 
stop every now and then to take pic-
tures, which were swiftly edited and 
posted at the best times for optimal 
likes. One of them told me that her life 
is awesome, and her Instagram would 
be too if she just took quality pictures 
of her terrific life.

This is a good perspective, I thought. 

Crafting some sort of Instagram pres-
ence in which I take excellent photos 
of me adventuring or wearing cute 
outfits for some reason stood out to 
me as a necessary action. As I began 
to realize, it’s important to craft one’s 
image and present to the world what 
you want your aesthetic to be. It’s good 
to show that you’re confident, pleased 
with your appearance and proud of 
your life.

I took this to heart, dreaming of a 

polished exterior that others might 
aspire to. New Rachel! Confident 
Rachel! The majority of my presence 
is some sort of cobbled-together, self-
deprecating spaz whose shirt might 
have guacamole stains. Maybe Insta-
gram Rachel could be cool, sleek—con-
toured, with frizz-free hair.

So I tried to ‘gram. The problem is, 

you have to take pictures to have an 
Instagram. Then you have to come up 
with some sort of caption that indi-
cates that you didn’t try that hard at 

any of it, even though you’re about to 
spend the next 90 minutes frantically 
refreshing your notifications for likes 
and the other part of your day strategi-
cally liking other people’s pictures on 
your feed in hopes that they’ll like your 
stuff back.

When I returned from Spring Break, 

my friend and I talked about our vaca-
tions over a $3 bottle of wine. Unlike 
my Instagram revelation, she was 
frustrated that her friends spent the 
majority of break trying to position 
themselves perfectly for ideal photos 
to post. More than that, they would 
stare at their phones at dinner and at 
the beach, checking Snapchat stories 
and ensuring they were getting enough 
likes.

They cared more about how their 

life appeared than their actual life.

I brushed off my friend’s comments, 

and decided she sounded like Mother 
Skeptical about my frequent Snap-
chat usage. Millennial communication 
is innovative! Selfies are important! 
Online identity is crucial! We are posi-
tioning ourselves to the world, seeking 
to explain ourselves to others and to 
ourselves! I took this nuanced, subver-
sive perspective to heart.

The weeks wore on after my ‘gram 

revelation. I posted pictures. Noth-
ing seemed fun or cool enough. I took 
shots in the Ann Arbor streets, but who 
the hell wants to see Ann Arbor? We 
all know what it looks like. And who 
wants to see me and my friends drunk 
at Rick’s? It’s really only entertaining 
to us. And who cares about the Eggs 
Benedict that I ate? I do like my life. 
But I don’t know how to portray it on 
this fundamentally shallow website. 
How am I supposed to Instagram a 
funny moment with my friends? Or a 
book that’s fascinating? Do I demand 
my friends take pictures of me when 
I look good, because someone who is 
good at Instagram told me selfies are 
not “Instagram-worthy”?

I’ve noticed most captions of pho-

tos are self-referencing to Instagram 
itself, explaining with a smirk how 
they asked someone to take the pic-
ture or the photo credit or why they’re 
posting it. All of the humor is the same 
tongue-in-cheek shit that I saw on 
Tumblr in 2011 that I guess people in 
Greek life have just recently adopted.

Unless I travel or suddenly develop 

a visually artistic side, my ‘gram can 
really only be contrived pictures of 
me and my friends. It’s a little bit too 

much effort. There must be some rea-
son everyone I know loves this social 
medium, but I can’t quite figure it out.

Today, I’m not destined for good 

selfies. My self is in flux, constantly 
being created and remade, though that 
won’t be shown through Instagram 
anytime soon. Maybe it will change 
tomorrow. That’s the beauty of social 
media and the Internet — I can always 
delete everything from the past and 
start anew.

Wednesday, March 30, 2016 // The Statement
6B

Selfies and the Self

By Rachel Premack, 
Daily Staff Reporter

PHOTO COURTESY OF NATALIE GADBOIS

ILLUSTRATION BY SHANE ACHENBACH

Selfies are 
important! 

Online identity 

is crucial! 

How am I 
supposed to 

Instagram a funny 
moment with my 

friends?

