Dear beloved readers,

I hope you are all well in this very chilly, freezing cold morning – at least, if you are in the north hemisphere. Boy, oh boy, is it cold out. Too cold for this recently wedded bride to be anywhere but deeply buried under her covers, awaiting for her beloved husband to accompany her, as we delight ourselves with an episode of Celebrity Jeopardy. Because yes, as it turns out, life truly can be that good.

I’ve been wondering about a lot of things lately, and yes, one of these things is why haven’t they built a self-cleaning house yet, and why adding one other person to your living environment makes it impossible to keep it cleaned for more than two days. But the desperations of this housewife for an easier role are not what truly has been keeping me up. 

As a writer, not, not even as a writer, as a writer currently working on a book, I’ve been facing one big challenge that, in a way, circles back to countless things I’ve discussed in this blog before. So, by the very end of my last semester, my beloved, most favorite professor, emailed me with an opportunity to get published with a small publishing house – something that sounded absolutely thrilling to me, of course. In her email, she sent me the whole “Call for Submissions” info, along with a paragraph telling me that even though this sounded nice and all, that I should wait and try to well, first of all finish the book, and also try to get an agent and be published with one of the big publishing houses, because as you can guess, the pay the small publishing house could offer wasn’t anything compared to the six-figures deals Penguin or Harper Collins can, potentially, offer me. And she also informed me, that these alleged six-figures deal I could potentially get, were determined mostly based out of the social media following I have.

I am sorry, what?! Have we lost our minds completely? How did we allow social media to be such a defying factors in our goddamn lives? Are you telling me, a TikTokless, Instagramless person that my book deal may not happen because I refuse to spend the rest of my life scrolling and double tapping on a screen? Fuck off world, I am done. 

It’s been hard to stay warm after this ice cold water was permanently dumped on my head. I struggle with this fact because I think is ridiculous, yes, but also because we’ve finally reached this absurd level of capitalism that doesn’t even make sense anymore. And in a way, we are all fucking punished because it certainly means that we are stuck with the so-called influencers of the world being the best selling authors of our generation, and honestly, kudos to us, we are a fucking joke. 

I don’t want to succumb myself to social media. Period. I don’t. I did my cleanse from it and quit cold turkey, and never fucking went back – well besides Twitter, cause you know, momma is funny, but even that, I locked that shit up and no one is fucking allowed in. Do you know how proud I am when people comment that I am not simply low-profile, I am no-profile. I am a twenty-three years-old woman who broke a vicious cycle, and hell if I am proud. But now if I want to make it in the career I choose for myself, I need to subject myself to the thing we tell kids to quit and to go and read books instead?!?!? I am sorry, but make it make sense.

I’ve been enraged in that way that I know is not sane to be about something that I have literal no control over. But, at the same time, how can I not be? What’s the solution? Wait for the entire world to implode because of social media, ala Tim Kreider predicted? Or do I literally let go of this winningless fight and truly subject myself to the laziest form of entertainment that ever was? 

Well, just like I don’t get why since I’ve been married the amount of unsolicited advice I receive quadrupled, I don’t know what I am going to do about this needing to have some level of following (and consequently, fame) to succeed in this business. But who knows, maybe I will start a revolution and outsell both the Bible and Fifty Shades, because one thing my humorous essays about getting my coochie waxed are capable of doing, is dominating this whole goddamn world. 

Beloved readers, mom (that’s me) is tired, mom needs her bed, and mom needs a blanket. The first month of the year is gone, and honestly, it was the best that ever was for me, so I am ready for the rest of this year. Stay safe and out of trouble but, if you don’t – oh my god, tell me all about it. 

– Your Girl On The Go