FIELD NOTE // FN-018 | LOCATION: Evicting Myself from Social Media, OAKLAND | DATE: 2025-12-31
Thinking Outside the Algorithm
…I'm a child of the 90s. I remember the web as a collection of personal fiefdoms: GeoCities, Angelfire, personal blogs. It was messy but it had soul. You weren't drowning in sameness.
The early days were filled with an innocent curiosity. It wasn't uncommon to fire up AIM and have a genuine conversation with a random user in a boisterous chat room. But today, the sheer scale of the internet means that half of being online is just managing the wave of cruft you encounter. We went from exploring to defending a fortress.
We traded soul for convenience. Original content got stripped down, packaged, and made easily digestible for mass audiences.
Ironically it has never been easier to own your own corner of the web. But instead of doing that, more and more of us locked ourselves into social media platforms. We swapped freedom for a 1:1 box.
We stopped making and started producing. Our voices got assimilated to the algorithm, not ourselves. The prize was no longer about expressing an idea, it was about winning.
The Game
Here's what nobody tells you: you have to pay to play, the currency is your time. Even if you don’t value you it, don’t fret; billions have been made off it.
I caught myself doing it. The mindless scrolling. The strategic commenting. Feeding the algorithm my engagement first thing in the morning just to fend off the tsunami of bullshit that wanted to steal my attention. Every interaction became a calculation: Will this get me seen? Will this earn me a follower?
That's not connection. That's a job. An unpaid job where the employer constantly changes the rules.
For what? A thousand likes from last Tuesday? Already gone. Already buried. Already worth nothing. Meanwhile, the hours I spent playing the game were hours I didn't spend actually making work, or building something that's mine.
What Finally Pushed Me Out
I was paying Instagram $14 a month for verification—the blue checkmark, the thing that's supposed to say "this person is real." And while I was paying them, my account got flagged with an "automated action warning." Anyone who tried to follow me saw a notice that my account might be spam.
Fourteen dollars a month. Years of history on the platform. And I was being introduced to new visitors as a potential threat.
Was it users mass-reporting me? Instagram's own AI having a bad day? Fustraitingly, I'll never know. There's no transparency. No appeals process. No human to check in with. Just an algorithm deciding my reputation while I paid for the privilege of being there.
My digital landlord was cashing my rent while nailing a "BEWARE OF DOG" sign to my door. I don’t have a dog.
For one dollar more, fifteen dollars a month, I could have a fully hosted site with my own domain. My name. My rules. No terminator algorithms.
Leaving With Ease
I should be honest: walking away wasn't hard for me.
I’ve had many different relationships with social media over a lifetime but always remained suspicious. Whistleblower writings have confirmed that it’s time to take the reins back from these "growth and engagement" psychos currently running my world… 3 cups of coffee a month is worth it.
I kept notifications off at the system level. I went weeks without checking. I treated Instagram like a tool, not a home—so when I finally left, I wasn't leaving much behind.
I could see the pull from a quarter mile away. If I checked daily, I'd start caring about the numbers. If I started caring about the numbers, I'd start shooting for the numbers. I've watched people I love disappear into the metrics.
I know that's not everyone's story. Some people have built real things on these platforms—audiences, income, identity. If that's you, the thought of leaving probably feels like losing a limb. I'm not here to judge that. I'm just here to point out that the limb was never really yours. They can take it back whenever they want.
What Oaklens Is About
This site is my work, presented my way.
There's no login. No "like" button to smash. No algo deciding if you're allowed to see this based on your developed profile.
When you look at a photo here, you see the full frame, not the crop some app forced me into. You see what I meant for you to see.
I'm actually going back through my old work right now, liberating photos from their 1:1 prisons and restoring them to full-frame.
Come In
Think of it like the old internet. Like stumbling onto someone's corner of the web just to see what they're about. No agenda.
You are welcome here.you don't need an account. You just need eyes 👀.
