I don't think social media is pure evil. I'm aware it can connect families across continents, launch small businesses, and give artists a voice they might never have had. Platforms like Instagram, Facebook, and others can be powerful tools. But tools are shaped by the systems behind them—and the systems behind today's platforms are built on the attention economy. And the outrage machine has learned that polarizing, emotional, and extreme content catches the eyes. The longer we scroll, the more valuable we become.

Algorithms decide what we see. Comparison becomes constant. Moments are curated, filtered, and optimized for approval. Data is harvested. Influence is monetized. Somewhere along the way, people started to feel like experiences only counted if they were documented online. "A website makes it real" comes to mind. As if an event didn't truly happen unless it showed up on a feed.

As a former high school teacher, I had a front-row seat to the cost. I saw anxiety amplified by likes and comments. I saw friendships strained by screenshots. I saw young people measure their worth against highlight reels. Social media didn't create every problem—it just made most of them worse.

For me, community will always be better than platform. Real conversations over comments. Shared work over shared posts. Presence over performance. When digital spaces begin to overshadow embodied life, something important is lost.

And yet—here's the honest tension—I do maintain a small presence on Instagram. I use it sparingly and intentionally. It's there to highlight collaborators, celebrate meaningful projects, and acknowledge the businesses and events I'm grateful to work with. I'm careful about my footprint and mindful of how I participate. The account is a tool, not a lifestyle. If you choose to follow along, know that it's an extension of real work and real relationships—not a replacement for them.

Artificial intelligence is now woven into everyday life on social media. It decides what shows up in your feed, suggests who to follow, filters spam, and even helps people create posts, images, and videos in seconds. While this can make platforms feel more personalized and creative, it also means algorithms have significant influence over what we see — and what we don't. Social media today is no longer shaped only by human interaction, but by software working constantly behind the scenes.

In photography, I'm choosing not to rely on AI as a standard practice. Culling my own images is part of the craft — it's where I learn from mistakes, revisit moments, notice subtleties, and decide what truly matters. Creative shots aside - Editing, too, is about honoring what was actually there. Many AI-driven tools, are built on datasets shaped by decades of narrow beauty standards and unrealistic ideals. I'm cautious of technology that can quietly reinforce those biases or create a version of reality that feels more manufactured than remembered. For many, the efficiency may outweigh the loss of control. Deliberate creative choices aside, for me photography is about presence and truth — not "perfection" according to an algorithm.