Twitter is a great barometer of how mad I should be at things. If everybody is tweeting about how mad they are at something, I decide how mad I’m going to be about it on a liberal Hollywood scale of Ashton Kutcher to Ronan Farrow. If Ashton or any celebrity that tweeted #KONY2012 expresses outrage or concern over something, I pretty much disregard it. If Ronan Farrow is angry about something, then I know it’s okay to be angry about it too, and then I wonder if I should tweet Ronan and is it really so crazy to think two people could fall in love over Twitter?
Now, this morning everyone thought Instagram could sell their photos, which Instagram is now saying they’re not going to do. Regardless, I still don’t know whether I should delete my account, so I’m weighing my options:
PRO: Instagram is maintaining that they aren’t going to sell the pictures I’ve taken of my friends and me in Vegas for ads to Promises Recovery Center.
CON: So, Instagram does not want to sell this picture of me?
PRO: Did you see that picture of me above? That soft rosey glow didn’t radiate on its own; that was all X-Pro II.
CON: Do I really need to post pictures of myself onto a site that hasn’t earned my trust and could one day, maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday, use my pictures in a way I don’t approve of? And yet, this picture of me from the 6th grade exists on the internet, and I seem to be fine with it:
PRO: My outrage seems to have settled, and I don’t care enough to delete my account anymore.
It stays! Unfortunately, I’ve already hysterically deleted half of my pictures, so I guess I’d better plan brunch for this weekend so I can slowly start building back up my collection of mimosa pictures.