Sure, we all think that if we post the perfect post maybe all eyes will turn to us and after a full night’s sleep we will wake to thousands, no hundreds of thousands, of followers, but seriously, ever since Cinderella, who wouldn’t? Not exactly raised on Disney, but pretty close, I thought Instagram a dream platform for every selfie I might snap. Not that I wanted to be something that you couldn’t; I just thought that if I could, then anyone might. As in, if I imagined it, you would too, that we might all be more than we thought possible. A bit more flashy, more colorful, just more. You know? Like what you dream about as you lay around in the tub on a Saturday night just might make a difference. That’s what I attempted on an afternoon. #instagrammodelLike most, I started snapping photos 24/7 with my iPhone. Sure I did years before too, with a film camera, and even learned how to develop prints in the darkroom. But that took weeks or hours, and chemicals, and skills I just was thinking through when iPhone popped up and then Insta-world shortly followed. Overnight we became EXPERTS. People who had mad skills. Who rose to heaven and beyond with one snazzy and sensational snap while others just snoozed, yeah we rose.

Every location became a possibility. Every stranger, a “photographer”, if only handed one’s iPhone. We viewed these tiles, the light filtered from skylights, the cactus all spiky and vertical in opposition to our roundness, the green in contrast to the red, the fact that we represent generational selves while residing in the same frame and any other allusions you dare. We did all of that analysis on our way to the pool. Because it’s 2019 and time is short and important and even on vacation we multitask. We are people doing it for themselves on social media. We have to outlast Trump at the very least. We are driven to unearth meaning in this era of his lies.

There is much trash talk about the Insta-model. The gal who asks her friend to shoot her from across the room or from the fire-escape but I want to just give her mad props. Why the fuck not? We are all experiencing this diverse and wildly crazy world: why not capture our version of it? Why not convey our experience as if it matters, because when day turns down to dusk, what else matters? There is an urgency we seem to have forgotten, and I say, let’s remember it. With chaos at the helm, life is virtually shortened to almost a breath. Take it and run I say. Post.

There are moments when you are in the desert and you are wearing Alma Xx Rebels crop-tees that feel fabulous and you look your very best even after a day laying around in mineral water, hot mineral water, and everything about Two Bunch Palms is magnificent, especially if you apply Kosas lipstick. And not because you’re an Insta-model, but just because you know what you know and love the feel of real fabric and great lipstick. And you are real and genuine and your daughter is a badass artist all on her own and you are celebrating, Marnika Weiss.

Take what you can from your short life. Make the very best story available. We will all listen. And appreciate. This is not about the 1%. The Supermodels. The Influencers. It’s what you and I can bring to the potluck. The nuance, the flare, the magic and style of us, the meager 99%. The realz. Be your very best self. Your very best of the time. That’s all I’m saying. With or without the Gram.