Today marks the day I officially published my first site out into the world, Velvet's Smoking Lounge. I knew that at some point I would have to make this blog entry out of tradition. I saw a lot of people talk about their experiences on being a whole year on Neocities or whatnot, thinking about what I would put in when that day comes for me. I've seen others even write down their journey on a monthly basis. But to be honest, I was putting this off, due to how hard it is for me to detail my thoughts in a consistent manner. Before I knew it, a whole year had passed and now I must acknowledge and reflect on the past, out of arbitrary obligation. What can I say that would put into words how much my life has changed since I've become committed to the Personal Web?
My relationship with my self
It's no secret that it's hard to talk about myself, I've exhausted every point about how I don't actually like talking without any filters. Art has always been how I communicate with others in a way that doesn't need to be explicit or consistent. Making sites has become a medium in which I've been allowed to express myself as much as I like, a form of art at which the only limit is my imagination and my shitty HTML-CSS skills. The great thing about sites is that involves different fields in order to make your vision come together, giving me loads of ways to expand my skill set and express myself as esoterically as I like. Ever since I've taken this hobby, I've forced myself to dig deep and find the things I'm passionate about to put on a webpage. Years of reservations about being hyperfixated had broken down, to the point that the floodgates came pouring in and I had no idea how to deal with this new feeling I had.
I was used to being paranoid that someone would make fun of me for daring to exist and have interests I'm passionate about. The modern internet (specifically large social media gardens) had normalized bullying different people for just being themselves, forcing me to assimilate out of fear of being cast out. If you dared to have a different opinion, you're somehow now Public Enemy #1 (which is even worse in fandom spaces). I wouldn't be wrong in saying that the Internet (at least the spaces I felt like I needed to be in to feel a sense of worth) ruined my life. To be in an online space where that isn't tolerated in any form, shook me so hard that I have yet to process the phenomenon a year later.
I've started to care less of what others really thought of me, becoming indifferent to prospect of being flooded with negativity from people who don't know me or ever care to. They never ever mattered and I didn't need to acknowledge any of it, they have no part in my life. I've become more assertive of my boundaries and fostered the things I love that I denied myself from, out of self perservation. I finally have a space to express myself in a nurturing way that I had been begging to have for years. Nobody can tell me I can't do whatever in my own space anymore.
My interactions with others
I will be the first to admit that I was a very angry person when I stumbled across the Personal Web. I was only 13 when I first started to interact with strangers on the internet. I wasn't too young to be on these public spaces, but I was still young enough to be naive and easily influenced by others. To be honest, I don't think I would have ever been prepared for any of the drama and awful things I was exposed to online. I don't really find it appropriate to talk about it here explicitly, so I'll keep it brief.
As a kid, I didn't have many friends so the online world was an escape and a wonderland where everything seemed possible. Naturally, being a lonely person, made me curious about the people that were in the space I inhabited. I was desperate for some kind of companionship I couldn't get in real life so I turned to spaces like Tumblr for comfort. For people who weren't there at its peak, it's hard to describe the power Tumblr had at the time. It defined a whole generation, it was the cool kid on the block. It defined trends like nobody's business. The platform also had everything, everywhere, all at once. Drama and infighting was a commonplace. If there was a niche show from 5 years ago that you liked, there was a fandom for it in Tumblr. There was also the problem of romanticizing mental illnesses and excusing terrible behaviour with them. Not unlike how Twitter or Tiktok is being talked about at this present moment.
It also coincided with the rise of Discord as a instant messaging platform. As embarassing as it is to admit, I was a user back in 2015 before the goddamn thing had an app and all you could use was a web browser. If I thought Tumblr was bad, Discord servers were a whole different thing entirely. It was very much normalized to vent in public spaces about triggering subjects and things that should have really been talked about in a therapist's office. There was also the possibility of adults and children being mixed together without much moderation or boundaries. Although, not every server was like that, I still got pretty unlucky with the places I ended up being in. I got involved with the art ranting community and things went downhill from there, to the point that it scarred me. I became a bitter and resentful person all the way up to my youth, I didn't really feel like myself anymore. I didn't really grow up properly or got the chance to self-reflect until after I broke away from the Core Web, I would just go through the same cycle in different communities and contribute to my own self-destruction.
And that negativity bled onto others, I was very difficult person to be around. I started drama, due to my own pettiness and need to hurt people that I felt wronged me. Even though I didn't like conflict, I would unintentionally rope myself in it, because I couldn't understand how to respond and when to shut the fuck up. I was basically adding fuel to the fire with a response or inability to stand up when support is needed. Being kind is not easy, especially when you feel hurt and afraid. As many regrets I have about the things I did a long time ago, I know that I can never take them back. The only thing I can do is heal and foster something kind with others, who are willing to do just that and ignore people who don't.
Being in the Personal Web community has taught me that, beyond screen names and avatars, are real people with their own feelings and thoughts that can be properly expressed. It has made me a happier and caring person, seeing all the love and genuine passion have for others here in our little corner of the internet. There will always be others who try to ruin things for the rest of us, but they're a lot easier to weed out and ignore. Positivity is infectious and there's an abundance of it here. Making sites has allowed me the opportunity to meet different people with different backgrounds, and hear their stories.
How I see my art
I've already made tons of blog posts about art and the Internet, so I won't yap about it that much here. To keep things short, my relationship with art has been a toxic one. Which has been made worse with the instant gratification of likes, followers, or whatever numeric value there is placed on Social Media. There's nothing wrong with wanting your art to be seen by others, but I took way too far and had chained my self-worth to those arbritrary numbers that didn't really mean much of anything. It didn't make me happier to make art, and it certainly didn't me happier to see my own art either.
The thing about social media sites is that they had always thrived off more content from users. If there is no content, why would people spend all their time being there, if not for the purpose of talking to other people they already know? Art is a commodity in these sites, and the artists who pour their heart and soul into making every single piece are considered factory workers. It's a sweatshop of content that disrespects its creators and expects them to work their ass off for the promise of "exposure". And I've been subscribing to that way of life for years!
Sure, even if I was self-aware and determined to not let it happen to me, it still happened because I was still putting myself through that same hamster wheel for instant gratification. I was not allowed to experiment or grow as an artist because I was too busy making content for an algorithm where you cross your fingers and hope that you'll get lucky. I still do want more people to see my art some day, but not to the point where I have a breakdown because the illustration I put so much work and effort to make, didn't meet a certain number. I still have a long way to go before I fully heal and take genuine pride of my work, but making sites is that first step I needed to take to go through that process.
Conclusion, I guess.
I think it's fair to say that I'm not letting go of this hobby any time soon. It's become a huge part of my life, that I've based my plans around cultivating those silly little webpages. It has forced me to go outside and talk about things I would have never had the motivation to do, if not for me dedicating a whole page on the internet for it. It's become my main art medium, a way to express myself like never before. It's messy, it doesn't always make sense, it's hard to do, but it's honest and beautiful. God, is it beautiful. I can never ever describe all the things it's given me, hell this whole blog post is already long, yet I don't feel like I've scratched the surface on what I love about it.