This is the third time that I’ve attempted to kick start this blog post, and it’s a miracle that I’m even getting this far. Yup, a whole sentence *phew* excuse me whilst I treat myself to an episode of Attack On Titan and a coffee n’ digestives combo. Then maybe I’ll run myself a bubble bath, throw in a LUSH bath bomb because it’s the freakin’ weekend. I also need to run a few errands, return some online-orders-gone-wrong, pick up some new pieces to create content with this week. Plan a photoshoot, arrange lunch with my mum, do my ridiculously boring admin work, hoover the house, catch up on my fave interior DIY channels on YouTube, and… mimosas duh, treat yo’self vibes innit.
Yeah, I’ll just write the rest of the blog post later on in the week at some point, I’ll squeeze it into my schedule somwehere, it’ll get done eventually…
I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t true for the majority of blog posts lately, as it’s become all too common for me to wait around until the very last minute before ploughing away at my keyboard for two hours straight, before *popping* out a blog post just in time to hit “Publish” and look like I have my life together.
It’s not even like I have the excuse of not having the time to actually sit at (my boyfriend’s – mine broke) laptop and get some shit done. If you didn’t already know, I’m full time. Which pretty much means that this is my job and I have no reason to not get the shit I need to get done, done. I managed to whip out at least 3 blog posts a week whilst I was juggling my masters degree and my blog, so why now? Why is it that I have all the time in the world to blog, that I just put it off? I confess – I’ve become a self-saboteur.
My life consists of doing a lot of lifestyle/product photography and editing, boring admin-y work, and outfit shooting/linking/posting etc – which isn’t at all very interesting or excited behind the scenes, even if Instagram seems to make this blogger thing look glam. Maybe it’s just gotten to the point that my brains even telling me that I need to up the ante… by procrastinating to the point of self destruction.
I’m not whether it’s the lack of adrenaline in my life right now or something of the sort, but I almost live for the rush of panic that pulses through my fingers as I eagerly write that final tid-bid at the end of a post that I desperately need to go live.
This hasn’t always been me though – At school/uni, I fucking liiiiived for being prepared. I’m a very organised person through and through, and even the thought of not being prepared for something or not having a plan gives me a tinge of anxiety, it’s just not me. All of a sudden, I’m prepared to do anything but the work I’ve set myself out to do.
Over the last three days, I’ve attempted to write this post and have made 101 fucking excuses at every opportunity. From, “I should really make this a ~ washing and ironing ~ day” to the classic “Just one.. more.. episode…” excuse, I have done everything possible to make future-Holly’s life much harder.
*Hands up* I’m scrambling to get a blog post up before the weekend and disclosing this info to you lovely lot in a blog posts a last ditch attempt to kick my ass into gear because there is no reason for me to be attacking the keys like this at 4.30pm on a Friday evening. Okay, better not dwell on that too much as it might turn into a “fuck work it’s time to clock off for the weekend” excuse which will render all of this effort as a tragic failure.
SHOP THE LOOK
I have certainly become somewhat of a pro at the art of self destruction and would rival even the best procrastinators. But how have a let myself get to this point? I’m a self-saboteur, ready to do anything I have to (which involves a lot of doing nothing) to make my own life harder. The answer, I think, lies in the pressure of the industry that I currently work in.
Not slating blogging/influencer’ing/content creating (whatever), because this is my job. I get paid for what I do and I bloody love doing it – Which is something that not a lot of people can truly say. However, there’s a lot of pressure to be amazing at everything you do as a blogger which makes a perfectionist like me… well, feel like shit really.
I’m definitely the type of person to give up before I’ve even tried if I know it wont be perfect. When you look at the state of the IG algorithm, the fact that (might be throwing some shade, not directed, not intentional) most of the accounts that are getting thousands of likes now are the ones who all look the same.
My explore page is full of images shot in #prettycitylondon locations, Peggy Porshen’s, Elan Cafe, Farm Girl, etc. feat. slim, white women with beautiful editorial hair, with a Bondi Sands Extra Dark tan, of course wearing the Gucci belt. Before you say it, I’m not even being salty. I’m just pissed that Instagram thinks I can in any way relate to these accounts.
Oh and can we take a moment to talk about how fast fashion being pretty fucking fast. I’m seeing so much *new new new* that I now have online shop baskets full to the brim of pieces I’ve shopped on Liketoknow it through my fave influencers, but I just don’t have the coin to actually buy them.
One of these things is not like the other. I’m not like these other bloggers or influencers, and I’m still battling myself internally to keep my own edgy style and editing going. It’s so tempting to start creating content just like all the bigger/upcoming influencers just for the likes and follows, but really what’s the point if your content isn’t genuinely your own? Would I even find it at all rewarding?
Turns out that procrastination is not only putting off doing any real work, but it’s a major distraction from facing the harsh reality of writing a blog right now. I’d much rather put on/out the washing, do a quick DIY in the house, binge watch all 25 episodes of a new anime, and hoover the entirety of the apartment… instead of actually taking the time to face the reality of what blogging has become. Gone are the days that you could happily jot down a few ideas, snap a photo or two, and hit “Publish” without a care in the world. Bloggers everywhere are constantly on the grid, trying to get themselves noticed, and I’m not an exception to that.
Back to the main point because I can see this going off on to several different tangents, but it’s hard to stay focused in an industry that has become driven by a particular aesthetic that favours those who are more privileged. Until I get the £££ to afford that Gucci belt, an £100 Topshop order every week, a mini-break every month, or simply brunch in the big city at least one every few days, I’ll be at home, self-sabotaging my little heart out.
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