Blocked

I had a thing happen yesterday.

I was looking at a wide variety of Instagram profiles for a reason I might one day write a post about....

I looked up the profile of a celebrity I'm a fan of and saw that his Instagram was gone.

My busy brain found that interesting for about three seconds and then moved onto other things.

Until a short time later when my phone was charging, and I was doing my laptop stuff.

I started to worry.

What if he hadn't deleted his Instagram account?

What if he had blocked me?

I Googled his name along with Instagram.  His account was still there.  

Since I'm not signed into Instagram on my laptop.....

Here it was.

What I had feared.

He had blocked my account.  

* * *

I went on doing my laptop stuff...or trying to.

Trying to concentrate while trying to figure out what to do about this.

I would need to carve him out of my life.  Right?

Probably yes.

I'm not good at separating the art from the artist.  I'm really not.

This was going to be quite a challenge, though.

With the last two celebrities I wrote about, it was less of a challenge.  

With one, his acting career didn't play a huge part in my life.  He's been on one show important to me, but he probably won't be on anymore.  I loved one song of his, but I'm not too emotionally attached.  Plus, with songs, I tend to listen to them a lot for a particular section of time; then I rarely if ever listen to them again.  

With the other celebrity, I loved him on one show, but the show is over.  It's pretty easy to move on.

BUT with the celebrity of yesterday's drama.  His role in my life is much more pervasive.  I had a LOT of his music on my 2024 playlist.  His TV show is one of my favorites.  I even subscribe to a fan-created YouTube account.

I think, at this point, my mind was working a strategic plan of erasure while feeling a mix of mild shock, anger, and hurt.

While also wondering about the WHY of it all.

I suspected it was an anti-Zionist thing...

OR he had searched for his name and found my blog...and was frightened by my weirdness.  

I started having an Inside Out scenario in my head...with Sadness telling me it was okay to feel sad about this and don't do that thing of bottling up your feelings. And Joy was whispering something like, If he came to your blog...isn't that kind of cool?  You were noticed!

Well...

Anyway....

I'm not sure why.

I don't know what type of Inside Out character jumped in here next.  But something suggested that I should maybe recheck the blocked thing. Maybe I had just typed in the wrong name. Or Instagram search had been a bit wonky.

So when I was back with my phone, I searched on Instagram and saw that I was NOT blocked by this celebrity.

That was quite a relief.

* * *

I also saw I was not following this celebrity despite being a fan.

I considered following but then decided not to.

Why?

Not sure.

I'm weird about following celebrities on Instagram.

Sometimes I follow my favorites. 

Often I don't.

After what-didn't-actually-happen yesterday....I'm thinking I should lean into not-following-favorites.

* * *

I've been sitting here for about 30 minutes trying to come up with a conclusion to this post that's honest but doesn't make me sound pathetic or shitty.

Something along the lines of avoiding the artist as much as possible, so I can be safe in enjoying the art.

This makes me sound shitty, though...as if I'm bound to be disappointed and disillusioned by the artist's life and/or personality.  It makes me sound and feel very intolerant.

Then, to my relief, I realized none of this is true.

Months ago, I listened to a long interview with the didn't-block-me-celebrity on a podcast.  The interview made me like him more. Not less.

I realized it's not about the person behind the Instagram account...whether famous or not.

I just tend not to like what people show of themselves on Instagram.  Or how they show themselves.

Shit. It's hard to explain.

I'm going to stop trying.

I need to pee. 

* * *

This post would probably be more entertaining if I named the celebrity.

But I'm paranoid he WILL someday Google himself and end up here...and then the whole blocking-thing could become reality.

* * *

I am reminding myself that if I don't search for a celebrity on Instagram, I won't have to ever see that they have blocked me.  Or mistakingly believe they've blocked me.

Or see that they hate Zionists.

But curiosity often gets the best of me.

Or the hope for reassurance or a happy surprise.

I once looked up a singer before adding her song to my 2024 playlist. I wanted to make sure she didn't hate Jews.

It turned out she was Israeli...AND Australian. And not only that. She wasn't one of the many Jewish celebrities keeping quiet about October 7.  

* * *

I still haven't peed.

And another thirty minutes have passed.

* * *

I also try to avoid but sometimes fail to avoid the temptation of commenting on celebrity social media accounts.

It's that embarrassing desire to be noticed and liked.

Or the urge to speak out about something.

OR worse...a combination of the above two.

Let-me-be-brave-enough-to-disagree-with-you-or-question-you-while-also-hoping-this-makes-you-notice-me-and-like-me.

* * *

I'm thinking....

It's probably actually not that horrible or weird to reach out hoping to be noticed.

It's probably quite common....

What's probably less normal and less healthy is my fear of disappointment with the response or lack of response...and worry that the disappointment will make me lose love for the artist and then lose love for the art.

And I hate losing the art.

The art is so important to me.  

* * *

Realizing....

This is not just a celebrity thing.

But a people in general thing.

And the reason why I tend to prefer spending my time with content (books, TV shows, songs, movies, podcasts, blogs) over social interactions.

* * *

I thought this was going to be a short funny post, turning a few moments of inner turmoil into something positive.

But instead it's been a shitty hour...

Over an hour 

With me facing all my angst.

And worse.

Sharing it with the world.

* * *

I hate blogging sometimes.