The Sounds She Collected is a newsletter about mixtapes and mixed emotions. Thanks for being part of this hive mind for empathetic, hopeful people.
Yesterday when Facebook, Instagram, and WhatsApp went down, I curiously felt…nothing. Nothing! That is because for the past two years—almost to the date of yesterday’s outage, oddly enough—I have been off Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.
My first year without social media felt like constantly being left out. I didn’t feel the confident freedom I’d seen in others who had left the platforms, and I missed the minutiae of my friends’ day-to-day lives. We have become so accustomed to seeing moments big and small in an endless reel of photos. But without social media, I needed to redevelop conversational muscles and ask questions big and small to fill in the gaps.
As another year went by, I do feel that quiet confidence. I don’t miss seeing update after update. Everyone is different, and social media can be beautiful in many ways, but I am very much committed to a life without it. Asking friends about their days, weeks, weekends and not already knowing the answer is a blessing.
I got far too wrapped up in the performance of social media, and at one point even started looking at sights and scenes with captions already forming in my mind (I am a writer, but still, this was alarming). In seeing the commentary on yesterday’s outage, it was almost nice to feel outside of the scene. For the past two years, I’ve been steadily replacing the scroll. It was interesting to watch the world do the same.
Without social media, I’ve had to maintain friendships in new ways, which have proven to be inspiring and nurturing. My friend D and I will text each other songs we’re into, sometimes with zero context, and it’s been a nice constant. This cycle has persisted—through two election seasons and a global pandemic. It’s shown me how a friendship can thrive without being connected on an app.
Along with October marking my two years without social media, it’s also the advent of my favorite season. I’m not sure why, but fall feels like a fresh breath, a turn of the tide. It feels like the ideal time to begin again. Maybe I still get that back-to-school feeling, marked by freshly sharpened pencils and annual trips to Office Max. But there’s just something about this time of year. And the emphasis on beginnings reminds me of a song D recently shared with me.
The live version of “Add It Up” by the Violent Femmes gets going at one minute into the song. But no one seems to mind one bit. It got me thinking about how intros can shape the entire essence of the song—or totally diverge from it. Like the lengthy piano intro in Ben Folds Five’s “Philosophy”—I used to love this band when I was younger and have largely forgotten about them, yet still think about this piano melody—or the spooky intro to “Sticky” by Ravyn Lenae. There are endless ways to begin a song, and that’s part of what makes them magical.
I’ve collected some of my favorite intros for playlist 60. The big 6-0! If you have a favorite song with a great intro, I’d love to hear it, too.
To beginnings,
Sarah
Share this with that one friend who loses it every time “Killing Me Softly With His Song” starts and is counting down to the Fugees reunion tour.
Share a hello or song // Press play and listen
Together, we support: Native Wellness promotes the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health of North America’s Indigenous peoples.
Bookmark a good read: Dua Saleh on “Sex Education,” Cal’s Sexuality, and the Trans Language Barrier
Something to remember: “Do your little bit of good where you are; it's those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.” —Desmond Tutu