CRISTY IN THE CITY

It seems like it was only yesterday that I visited Sanrio Puroland to visit Hello Kitty for her 40th birthday and this year she's already celebrating her 50th anniversary. How fast time flies! I may be getting older but Hello Kitty will always remain the cute anthropomorphic cat that she is. We won't be able to fly to Tokyo this year but we can celebrate Hello Kitty and her Sanrio pals with a box of Hello Kitty x Krispy Kreme! Very cute and yummy donuts that are a delight in every bite.

Like the rest of Generation X, I lived half of my life offline. There were no smartphones, tablets, or social networking sites when I was younger. Social media arrived relatively late in our lives, and for the most part, I enjoyed the analog, lo-fi lifestyle. Search engines were unheard of, and “mental telepathy” was our primary mode of communication—especially among friends with no landline telephones. Sometimes I wonder how we navigated and survived the pre-Internet world, but we did. Then Gen-X practically invented the digital age, and life was never the same.

Fast forward to around Y2K, when computing evolved at a dizzying pace. We found ourselves at the cusp of another technological milestone—the age of dial-up Internet, primitive social media, and the rise of the so-called global village. We witnessed technological and cultural acceleration in a way no previous generation had experienced. We were thrilled when we got our first email accounts. Then came file- and music-sharing services, electronic bulletin boards, self-publishing platforms, photoblogging, and microblogging sites like Facebook and Twitter.

I’ve seen social sharing platforms come and go and have probably tested nearly every social media app—from Tumblr to Flickr. I grew up a bookworm, so it’s no surprise that the format that resonated with me most was Blogger, the long-form self-publishing platform introduced by Pyra Labs in 1999. I’ve been blogging since Blogger was still in beta and have witnessed several reincarnations of my online journals. I’ve maintained blogs, outgrown them, and deleted some along the way. My longest-running blog still exists, and I’ll probably have enough permalink memories to reminisce over when I turn 70. My relationship with the Internet and social media has always been cyclical—a love-hate affair that continues to this day.

To clarify, self-publishing platforms are not inherently social media unless commenting and sharing are enabled. Expressing oneself freely—sometimes tongue-in-cheek—is the essence of personal publishing. This empowering, game-changing aspect is what gives it a sustainable following, even in a world dominated by Facebook and TikTok.

In contrast, younger generations appear deeply immersed in short-form content platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. These platforms limit words and visuals, often stripping away context and nuance. In this case, a little information can be dangerous. This is one reason I’ve never been a fan of platforms where a one-sentence update passes as a blog post.

Millennials and Gen-Z were born into a world where content is primarily digital and instantly accessible through gadgets and mobile phones. Social media apps come pre-installed—factory settings for modern life. There seems to be no escape from the pressure to participate. It’s unsurprising that younger generations experience unintended mental and emotional effects from social media; unlike Gen-X, they weren’t gradually introduced to the technology.

As someone who lived through the analog-to-digital transition, I’ve learned—through experience—that it is possible to disengage from the harmful effects of social media without spiraling into mental health dysfunction. Here are a few insights gleaned from decades of my complicated relationship with the Internet:

• Social media presents a mediated version of reality. Filters, edits, and curated feeds give life a glossy overlay. Art imitates life, and sometimes the reverse is true. Everything online is not what it seems. Still, these tools can also enhance creativity and imagination.

• Choose platforms that fit your lifestyle and needs. There’s no obligation to be omnipresent online. Everyone is essentially a beta tester and a data point for advertisers.

• Set personal boundaries. Control how much of your world you share. Disable comments, limit audiences, and curate your feed to include inspiring creators while filtering out content that triggers negativity.

• Social media doesn’t belong in the bathroom. Delete apps from your phone and access them only on selected devices—for your mental health.

• Find your tribe. If you’re passionate about certain hobbies or interests, seek like-minded people on platforms like Pinterest, Threads, Instagram, or Substack. These spaces can still be valuable for learning and connection.

• Anonymity breeds entitlement. The Internet gives people license to be harsh and toxic in ways they wouldn’t be in real life. Thoughtful discourse is rare. If you encounter vitriol, turn off comments. Words only hurt if you let them. In true Gen-X fashion, we give zero fucks to keyboard warriors.

• Live like it’s 1999. Constant connectivity can rob us of joy. Not every breakfast or OOTD needs documentation. The best memories live in our minds—not on our feeds.

• Don’t seek validation online. Likes and approval are fleeting. You’re a mere speck in the information superhighway. The Internet was never about you—and it will exist with or without you.

The Internet was meant to be a playground.