Fashion, because naked people have no influence in society.

When it comes to fashion design there are two schools of thought. The first one being that fashion is born in the minds of established designers who showcase their creations on runways which is then diluted for the everyday person into affordable variations. Conversely, the second school of thought presents fashion as something bred in the street by off-beat trendsetters who, in their ironic refusal to follow mainstream fashion, inspire designers worldwide. Personally, I have always viewed fashion from the latter perspective. Obviously, my work here on The Onyx Clam is not fashion-oriented, but I recognize the beauty in the give-and-take element of the art of dressing, and as a result, will always have a profound respect for devoted fashion bloggers. Blogging serves as the ultimate way to communicate ideas and galvanize action. Regardless of a blogger's mission, fashion-orientated or not, blogging is an instrument for giving every person (with internet access) a public platform to express their personal vantage point. It is an honor to be a part of cultural dialogue regarding the ways in which people choose to express themselves, rather visually, verbally, artistically, etc.

Fashion is the sole art form in which everyone is obligated to participate on a daily basis. Now, that being said, all art forms exist as a privilege. What a luxury to have the time and freedom to focus on developing your own personal aesthetic as a tool of self-expression. Each moment we have to riffle through the hat racks at our local thrift shop, read Jane Aldridge's blog, or play dress-up with our great aunt's costume jewelry is another moment that we do not worry about the myriad of problems that plague much of the world. However, a poetic beauty remains in the fact that every day one possesses the opportunity to turn every individual with whom they encounter into a member of their audience. I am forever grateful for the chance to participate in aesthetic culture, but I am especially awed by all those who choose to join me.

Instantaneous Communication: A 3x3 Window on a Fast Moving Train

Is the internet to blame for a major shift in humankind's communication methods? Originally, we were visual creatures. Messages were shared through hand motions. Using earth-derived paints, we drew pictures in sand and carved caricatures into stone. Next, we developed language. Now we could tell stories with symbols and sounds. Through language, our culture changes from perceiving ideas via movement to comprehending concepts through the shapes of symbols or letters. For centuries, the power of the written word controlled our societies. Those privileged enough to be literate and have access to texts, those who truly understood the publications of Kings and Gods and Lords and Landowners, had the advantage of interpreting such as they chose and filtering what was passed down to the illiterate masses.

The development of the printing press was perhaps more a tool for democracy than any other technological advancement. Suddenly, the illiterate masses could own books and even learn to read and interpret the text in which their newly acquired books contained. Language was power and books were a means of rebellion. Not only did words mean something, they meant a lot.

The internet was, once upon a time, a space for words. We logged into read live journals, message boards, wikis, blogs, and even *gasp* live-breaking news! People, anyone with access to the internet, had a platform to say whatever they'd like, and we, as readers, could find those words and read it all. The internet emerged as the place in which people, all people, could speak.

Say, three years ago, blogging reached what I fear will forever be its peak. I decided to go public and created a space to channel the thoughts keeping me up at night into words. Strange thoughts about punk boys and getting older, important ideas addressing feminism and the contents of the Millennial generation. I came here, wrote, and expelled. You, my readers, would actually read those thoughts. Those ideas. And, then, my time would come and I would read yours. In that odd pixelated way, I feel we knew each other. I felt we truly connected. There was so much comfort in knowing that you simply exist.

Blogging gave way to microblogging and we learned to speak less freely, more compactly. Twitter rewarded us for being clever and to the point, for being witty and curt. Although I appreciated the challenge, I longed for the verbosity of blogging. So often it's not the conclusion of the story that matters, but rather the manner in which our prose winds and tangles upon reaching that end. Sometimes, the journey is the story and the destination is quite dull, but at least we grew in getting there. Twitter doesn't understand that part about me about anyone.

Just as blogging paved the evolution of microblogging, microblogging gave way to visual microblogging. Fuck words. Use a single image. A picture is worth a thousand words, right? Or is it? You can scroll past hundreds of photographs in mere seconds, absorbing it all in entirety at the speed of light. That's the whole phenomenon behind Instagram: it is instant. However, when something becomes instantaneous it sacrifices its comprehensibility, its completeness. Instagram is a 3x3'' window on a fast moving train. Do you truly understand anything discovered through a window? If a train moves through Oslo going 100mph while passengers stare through a tiny plexiglass square, were the passengers ever really in Oslo? Did they see enough to accurately say they have seen the city? Did they come to understand anything about that place through such a journey?

I fear that eventually, visual microblogging will give way to a whole culture that communicates solely through pictures and emojis and abbreviations. No longer will humans greet each other with a verbal "Hello." We'll instead project an image of a hand waving in front of each others' faces. The punchline of your jokes will not conclude in a cascade of a laughter, but a projection of crying smiley faces. Maybe we'll use sign language to spell out the letters R, O, F, and L, separately like that to emphasize the abbreviation.

Shouldn't the future excite us? Why then, does the very prospect of veering away from written language depress me so? Are visuals a more efficient way of communicating? Perhaps my opinion has something to do with the way in which I, in particular, communicate. I find myself lost within the transition from words to images. I want to talk it through. I structure my thoughts in complete sentences and blocks of prose. I find comfort in hopping from point A to point B in my own head with an audience watching.

Click. Another picture of a face captured, but behind every selfie exists a brain containing so many complete sentences. That's the side of people we ought to know and relate to. Yep, that inside globby bit. Otherwise, what's the meaning of all this? What's the purpose of technological experiences when there's no level of humanity behind them?

Anyways, how retro is blogging? So quirky. So charming. Bloggers have so many feelings. I have so many feelings. Well, isn't that cute?

A Quick Word on Why Blogspot Matters.

It was senior year, I was slowly shutting the door to high school and tugging open a new one. I found myself anxiously burdened with the personal crisis cliche when "What do I want to do with my life?" transitions from a thought exercise in English class to a practical question. Bored, alienated, and craving an outlet, I convinced myself that the best way to answer that treacherous question was to go public about who I've been and who I now was. Shortly after, TheOnyxClam went public. Going public forced me to stop worrying, take a stand, and have a freaking opinion.

My writing for TheOnyxClam, not my Blue Ribbon wanna-be prep school background, taught me how to develop interesting angles for posts, emphasized the extent of my passion for writing, and proved I could follow topics with consistency and do my research. Most importantly, however, my blog writing, has taught me I am capable. It serves as my first glimmer of hope that the sum would be greater than its parts when I merge my writing skill and personal experiences with my political beliefs.

TheOnyxClam is the first public online space where I truly felt my opinion mattered. Before, I'd been one of two young women, either guilt-stricken and whimpering "Aw, I'm not smart like those women. I don't know enough about this" or, angsty and cynical with statements like, "Who the fuck cares what I think?" TheOnyxClam proves that I do know and people do care. Learning that has been more influential than anything else in regards to me becoming whole again. My blog strengthened my self-efficiency, serving as a springboard for the acquisition of resilience and courage.