Why I can’t Run an Instagram


This is the only picture I have of a bluebird day at Cypress.

Thinking I could get back to them any time, I did not feel the need and even felt wasteful taking pictures….when I could be enjoying it on the fly.

I mean I value good photography and my on the fly shots are usually crap.

That’s not to say I didn’t take more than one picture. The first day there was a real bluebird was probably sometime in January or February. I took a bunch of pics but after posting them on facebook I soon took them down. I hated seeing other people posting their vacation pics, and I didn’t want the facebook public seeing some distorted version of my life. In particular, I didn’t want one friend to see it instead of hearing it from me. For me, that’s just a personal rule. No one should have to know something about it from facebook first instead of from my mouth. I was pretty jealous last year when I heard all about her skiing adventures, so to be a good friend I didn’t post mine. Good friends don’t piss where they eat.

The bluebird batch. Destroyed.

That’s not the only batch. I also took a couple the trip before. Sunset on the mountain. I remember taking close ups of the snow, just holding it on my hand as if I could take it home and set it on my mantle. I didn’t feel any indication that it could melt. It was so beautiful I had to stop in the middle of the run and soak it in. I tried to capture the streaking of the on the glistening patches of ice on the snow but it didn’t really turn out, so those went as well.

The sunset batch. Gone.

The least impressive batch I deleted was probably the one I didn’t even intend for myself. I started filming a bit of a run with intentions of making good with my mom and showing her when I got home. It had just snowed so everything was pillowy white and soft (comparatively). And a lot of pictures too. Instead I deleted them before I even got on the bus, afraid the moment would never come. The move was just too tenuous, joy too easily mangled by misunderstanding so I put dumped in the bin while they were hot.

The snowy run batch. Deleted.

That’s a lot of pictures that never got to see the light.

I was feeling extraverted then and didn’t think to keep copies myself, so when I took them down, they were gone forever. They were long erased from my phone’s memory, since it was severely limited and I needed more space for new photos.

One more picture. I took a close up of a snowflake with all its six points visible. It was beautiful. I never knew snowflakes were really that big; I assumed their six pointed display was microscopic. Then I felt kind of silly. I was probably the only one who hadn’t realized that and it wasn’t important. Not in on the instagram hype, down it went.

What’s left then? Pictures of food, long line ups, transit, interesting signs, the beginning of a few runs mostly; and lots of the pictures filled with fingers. Of actually snowboarding, none. When I’m showing my friends what I did this season, that’s all they get to see.

Instagram? More like Yams’n’ham.

I regret not being the instagram type. I mean, what a wonderful collection of photos I’d have, assuming enough of the ones I deleted didn’t have fingers in them. And fancying myself a photographer! Then I’d really have a story to tell. But I guess it isn’t to be. I’ll save instagramming for those who do it best.

In the meantime I’ll got lots of food pictures to go over. Waiting for next season makes you hungry you know.


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