Tuesday
Sep242019
Monica Bielanko Is Dead
I spent days writing a detailed post about how the Internet is eating itself, regurgitating, then lapping it up like a dog happily eating its own puke. How social media, in particular, is turning people into absolute weirdos with all the self-curating and branding and influencing and competing and performing. For a while it felt very important to lay it all out. Just now I deleted the whole thing. Eh. It isn't anything that hasn't been said a billion times over (see: Internet eating itself) and it was a bullshit performance post, anyway.
I just want to tell you a couple things before I leave Instagram, the last social media site on which you can find me.
Some of you have been with me for 15 years, since I was a twenty-something newlywed in Brooklyn with my beloved dog, Max. I'm so glad you cared. I'm so appreciative of the time you've invested in me and my life. At 42, I feel like I'm in a place where I've never felt happier on a deep, personal level and posting on Instagram makes me feel like I'm trying to package that happiness and sell it to you, as if happiness can or should be sold. This taints my happiness, makes it less real to me. Happiness is hard work and I don't want to do anything to fuck it up! Besides, if you're anything like me, you find other people's declarations of happiness annoying or a performance tied to the latest version of themselves they've unconsciously decided on or strategically crafted for social media.
Jia Tolentino calls the internet "an engine of self delusion" and nowhere is that more evident than Instagram. It's spawning some strange shit. I don't like what Instagram does to my brain or my personality. Whether it's the stuff I see others posting and how that makes me feel (jealous, sad, angry, insecure, judgmental and just plain ol' weirded out) or the concept of packaging myself and my life for the world, it doesn't feel good. So much time wasted in the black hole. So much brain space consumed by things that simply don't matter.
I had a taste of becoming my own salesperson when I made money off this blog back in the day and "curating" myself for the Internet's consumption never felt right. Even desperately trying to be authentic felt like a performance. To that end, this post feels like a performance no matter how much I want it not to be. And if it is, let it be my last. I can't even trust my own motivations, that's how badly the Internet has warped me. No one can. You've got people posting sexy selfies under the guise of empowerment or self-care in the service of creating a brand and garnering "followers" and my guess is they don't know where they end and the performance begins either.
I think I am a writer and an actor and an artist. But I haven’t believed the purity of my own intentions ever since I became my own salesperson, too.
Tavi Gevinson wrote that on The Cut last week and it really speaks to me. She also wrote this:
"This cycle of judging and being judged is a black hole in which time disappears, in which I and the people I encounter are all frozen in our profiles. It is where I nourish my insecurities over the millions of past versions of me that float around like old yearbook photos and where I still judge people I don't know for reasons I don't remember. Together we have helped Instagram become its own multibillion-dollar economy: the influencer industry, where people become brands and where brands reach people through other people, fueled by our attempts to solve the great mystery of how one looks in the eyes of another."
I understand the value of community, of online community specifically, and have benefitted from it time and time again. But it's not worth the cost of my personality, and possibly even my soul. Where does the real me end and the Internet-spawned version of me begin? When I think of myself does the persona from this blog and social media meld with the actual me? Which one is true? Can your Internet persona be true or is it a performance? A performance by its very definition is "an act of staging" so how can that be true? What happens when you don't know the difference between truth and performance? Worse, what happens when you don't care about the difference?
I care.
I recently changed my legal name to Monica Danielle. I decided to use my middle name as my last name. Because it's all mine. Because backpacking around the surnames of men no longer in my life doesn't feel right. So The Girl Who started this website doesn't really exist anymore, in name or personality. And that is a very, very good thing.
I'll still write here from time to time, I think, but the lens will likely be focused outward. With any luck, the next iteration of the Internet will involve more personal filters and less photo filters.
Without social media to further my reach, who will read? If a blogger writes a post and nobody is there to read it does it even exist?
Here's to finding out.
If you wanna check in on me from time to time, monicabielanko.com (which will expire soon) redirects to despiertatemonica.com, which is where I'll be until I'm not.
Sincerely,
Monica Danielle
despiertatemonica at gmail dot com
I just want to tell you a couple things before I leave Instagram, the last social media site on which you can find me.
Some of you have been with me for 15 years, since I was a twenty-something newlywed in Brooklyn with my beloved dog, Max. I'm so glad you cared. I'm so appreciative of the time you've invested in me and my life. At 42, I feel like I'm in a place where I've never felt happier on a deep, personal level and posting on Instagram makes me feel like I'm trying to package that happiness and sell it to you, as if happiness can or should be sold. This taints my happiness, makes it less real to me. Happiness is hard work and I don't want to do anything to fuck it up! Besides, if you're anything like me, you find other people's declarations of happiness annoying or a performance tied to the latest version of themselves they've unconsciously decided on or strategically crafted for social media.
Jia Tolentino calls the internet "an engine of self delusion" and nowhere is that more evident than Instagram. It's spawning some strange shit. I don't like what Instagram does to my brain or my personality. Whether it's the stuff I see others posting and how that makes me feel (jealous, sad, angry, insecure, judgmental and just plain ol' weirded out) or the concept of packaging myself and my life for the world, it doesn't feel good. So much time wasted in the black hole. So much brain space consumed by things that simply don't matter.
I had a taste of becoming my own salesperson when I made money off this blog back in the day and "curating" myself for the Internet's consumption never felt right. Even desperately trying to be authentic felt like a performance. To that end, this post feels like a performance no matter how much I want it not to be. And if it is, let it be my last. I can't even trust my own motivations, that's how badly the Internet has warped me. No one can. You've got people posting sexy selfies under the guise of empowerment or self-care in the service of creating a brand and garnering "followers" and my guess is they don't know where they end and the performance begins either.
I think I am a writer and an actor and an artist. But I haven’t believed the purity of my own intentions ever since I became my own salesperson, too.
Tavi Gevinson wrote that on The Cut last week and it really speaks to me. She also wrote this:
"This cycle of judging and being judged is a black hole in which time disappears, in which I and the people I encounter are all frozen in our profiles. It is where I nourish my insecurities over the millions of past versions of me that float around like old yearbook photos and where I still judge people I don't know for reasons I don't remember. Together we have helped Instagram become its own multibillion-dollar economy: the influencer industry, where people become brands and where brands reach people through other people, fueled by our attempts to solve the great mystery of how one looks in the eyes of another."
I understand the value of community, of online community specifically, and have benefitted from it time and time again. But it's not worth the cost of my personality, and possibly even my soul. Where does the real me end and the Internet-spawned version of me begin? When I think of myself does the persona from this blog and social media meld with the actual me? Which one is true? Can your Internet persona be true or is it a performance? A performance by its very definition is "an act of staging" so how can that be true? What happens when you don't know the difference between truth and performance? Worse, what happens when you don't care about the difference?
I care.
I recently changed my legal name to Monica Danielle. I decided to use my middle name as my last name. Because it's all mine. Because backpacking around the surnames of men no longer in my life doesn't feel right. So The Girl Who started this website doesn't really exist anymore, in name or personality. And that is a very, very good thing.
I'll still write here from time to time, I think, but the lens will likely be focused outward. With any luck, the next iteration of the Internet will involve more personal filters and less photo filters.
Without social media to further my reach, who will read? If a blogger writes a post and nobody is there to read it does it even exist?
Here's to finding out.
If you wanna check in on me from time to time, monicabielanko.com (which will expire soon) redirects to despiertatemonica.com, which is where I'll be until I'm not.
Sincerely,
Monica Danielle
despiertatemonica at gmail dot com
Sep 24, 2019 | 19 Comments
Reader Comments (19)
xoxoxo
Oh Monica,
Totally understandable that you are leaving the internets, but I’m definitely going to miss you. I started reading you because your blog popped up when I was searching for someone else. It was the one where your house was on fire. Then I went back and read your story of how you met Serge, more than a few times, and thought, this lady really knows how to tell a story. I’ve loved following your journeys from NYC to SLC and now Pennsylvania. I was so sad when you guys divorced, but I’m so so happy for your true happiness now. Maybe just keep the blog but not Instagram?!?!
This feels so full circle for me. Everything. In 06 I was writing about you as an internet performance artist for my master’s thesis in art history. I was newly married and about to have my first child. My head was buried in French philosophy and feminist performance theory. The landscape is so different now, around us. On the other side of this screen, I am proud of you and delighted for you. Becoming self-actualized, moving to the point where these spaces have ceased to be a remedy for grief, feels like progress. I have enjoyed the era we lived in and through, but I am ready to welcome more of the things that happen IRL. Go live in that great big beautiful life you’re building Monica Danielle, it has been a joy to see you transform.
Still here, and so happy for you. There haven't been images of me on the internet in years and the only people who wish me happy birthday are people who remember it. My kids choose/approve most of what to put on Instagram for the long-distancers and that's that. Uncomplicated. Hope you enjoy detatching!
I’ll miss you on social media and I’ll definitely be checking in here
I’ve followed you since I was pregnant with my one and only kiddo and there was this network of women who I really was inspired by at the time back in 2010-13. I even performed in my own ways on a blog that never was anything and this whole post resonates so much. I love your writing and perspective and thank you for it all. It’s A LOT to let the internet in your life wish you all the peace and happiness in the world.
I totally get it! Well written, as usual.
I’ll miss you. Been reading your posts long before Instagram existed, before so many children & chickens, through haircuts & a fire... So weird from a stranger but have appreciated your curated honesty. Will always send you, the patch work of family & the chickens best wishes. Thank you for being a stranger friend.
Monica,
I think you're a great writer and I get this. I have to sell myself and other things on a daily basis and it's completely exhausting. Luckily, I've never really "gotten" instagram. I don't take a lot of photos. I don't like looking at myself very much.. I also don't like "looking" at other people. Reading about others experiences is more tangible to me than looking at a filtered picture on my phone I can only see with my readers on anyways. (*GETOFFMYLAWN*) I still play on the Facebooks as it helps me stay in touch with a lot of friends and it seems like young people hate it, so it's perfect for me.
I will always check in on you and I always hope you and your gorgeous kids are happy and thriving. Thank you for everything, especially your forgiveness. Soldier on Monica Danielle... The best is yet to come.
-Kate
Yes...have been reading you since Brooklyn, and now we are both 40 somethings. Instagram never really sucked me in. My last post was a carving in the sidewalk, the one before was the cover of a Barbra Streisand and Barry Gibb album my boyfriend bought me and before that I had lost my password and locked myself out for like 5 years, and was still married with a toddler. Monica Danielle, we muddle through. I will keep checking in on you, with much love and respect. Have always been your fan. I won’t need the Internet to continue to be. If I never hear another peep again, you’ve way past stood the test of time.💗
I get it too, but will check in regularly, hope you stick around here!!
big five thanks for you honesty - stay tune anyway, I'm happy for you :)
You are an incredible human. I’ve been following you since late 2008 and think I read your whole blog when I found it. Your writing is beautiful and helped me feel I had a (much more articulate) buddy who understood exactly how I felt about growing up in Provo/Orem. Back then there was little info about “church stuff & those doubting it” on the Internets, and finding you was finding gold. I read Tavi’s article too and it really stuck with me. I wish you only the best!! You have “influenced” me (& many others) for good. Your writing made me actually laugh out loud and also cry real tears. I will be checking back as I always have. Much love! -Holly
Dear Monica~ I've been reading since the beginning because I, too, fell in love with a musician and then did some thangs. Your story interested me yet your writing sucked me. Your words have always resonated with me... and you've always done your best~~~ which is all we are really doing~~~ to make your way. It was lovely to read about your current happiness, for sure! Best of luck to you, bad ass.
Dearest Monica- where has the time gone? I have followed your blog pretty much from the beginning and really admire your authenticity and your writing/voice. I hope you re-emerge on the interwebs someday. You definitely need to write a book. Or two. Wishing you peace as you follow your bliss.
Hi there. I’ve checked in now and again for years. We have a lot in common. I get it, I’m happy for you, your mom.com piece was beautifully written, and you’re awesome. Best of luck to you. I wish from a purely selfish point of view that I could read more. But obviously do what you need to. Take care.
I love you my Monica Danielle.
i also love you
i also love you