anna-mhairi

filmmaker + photographer | libra | she/her

[sixtiescowboy]

i'm done with 'social' media.

Lately, I’ve been deep-diving YouTube videos, like I’m 13 again, watching random videos for hours. And do you know what I’ve realised? I’m done with social media. I’m deleting it. I’m so sorry, but it’s happening!

Not entirely. I’m keeping LinkedIn since I freelance and need a way for people to find and hire me. But other than that? If you need me, email me. If you want me, call me. I’m tired of “social” media that makes me feel anything but connected.

No, I haven’t seen your holiday pictures. No, I didn’t know so-and-so had a baby. I barely see content from people I actually follow! My feeds are just ads and suggested posts that don’t even feel relevant to me. And somehow, despite being on almost every social platform, I still feel like I’m missing out. It’s like everyone else has a different version of Instagram or Facebook, one that actually works for them, while mine just feels empty.

[sixtiescowboy]

a dyslexic's love for Bridget Jones

I’ll admit it - I haven’t read the books.

As a dyslexic child who hated reading, that habit followed me into adulthood. I don’t avoid books entirely, but I don’t rush to read them, either. If something gets adapted into a film, great - I’ll watch it. But I don’t sit around waiting for adaptations, and I certainly don’t treat them as homework.

And yet, despite never having read a single Bridget Jones book, I know her. Because she is me. And I am her.

[sixtiescowboy]

the comparison trap

Modern celebrity culture only amplifies our longing for a ‘better’ life. Social media turns people into products, allowing us to window shop influencers jet-setting across the world while we lie in bed in Dudley. We constantly strive for more - more success, more money, more something - but rarely sit with ourselves and appreciate what we already have.

This film, at its core, reminds us that even those who appear to have it all have experienced heartbreak, grief, and insecurity. The contrast between outward success (fame, wealth, beauty) and internal struggles (depression, addiction, loss) is everywhere in celebrity stories. Behind the flashy cars and millions of Instagram followers, many of them are just trying to be okay. Meanwhile, someone out there is obsessing over their life, thinking if only that were me.

Algorithms feed us highlight reels of people with ‘better’ lives, leaving us unsatisfied with our own. We’re like children with too many toys - wanting the one someone else has instead of the one in our hands. As the saying goes, comparison is the thief of joy.

Bridget doesn’t explicitly compare herself to others, but insecurity is woven into her character. From the posh parents with their ‘perfect twins’ to the constant remarks about her weight and fashion in the earlier films, she, like all of us, internalises the idea that she should be different. That’s why she’s so relatable. By the end of Mad About the Boy, nothing has really changed. She’s in the same place, with the same people - but with an entirely new perspective. She has welcomed three new people into her life and, more importantly, found peace with where she is.

[sixtiescowboy]

the illusion of "living the dream"

Something I’ve been thinking about lately is the idea of ‘living the dream.’ We idolise celebrities for having perfect lives, but really, they’re just working - like the rest of us. They aren’t off-grid, technology-free polyglots mastering 14 languages; they have jobs. Their work is simply more visible, consumed by the masses, and, in the best cases, enjoyed by them.

Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy explores this desire for more. Living in a gorgeous London home, raising two healthy children, affording childcare, and working as a TV producer - this is someone’s dream. Yet the film peels back the layers to show the struggle behind that seemingly perfect life.

To Scott Wallaker, Bridget is living the dream. He’s spent years wanting children and never having them, while Bridget - his pupil’s parent - has what he longs for. But behind the scenes, she’s drowning in grief, navigating single motherhood, and reeling from betrayal by a man she trusted. Like Bridget, we often adopt this life is full of woe mindset, convinced nothing can fix the mess. That feeling of being stuck.

And then Scott confesses, in all her grief, in all her chaos, he loves her. She is his dream.

[sixtiescowboy]

a cinema trip that hit too close to home

I saw Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy at my hometown Showcase cinema, which only added to the Bridget Jones-esque feeling of never being in the right place at the right time. I went in knowing only two things: that Mark Darcy had died (courtesy of my mother, who read the book and delivered a full rundown) and that I would cry at least twice. I ended up crying the entire time.

Bridget Jones has always been a comfort character for me and my mother. The world was introduced to Miss Jones in 1995, four years before I was born and 31 years into my mother’s life. It might make more sense for a woman in her 30s in the ’90s to say she identifies with Bridget, having grown up alongside her and encountered many of the same struggles. But Bridget, like all great characters, is timeless. Even as cultural references evolve - ghosting replacing answering machine messages - the emotions, heartbreak, disappointments, and fleeting moments of joy remain universal.

[sixtiescowboy]

i am Bridget Jones, and she is me.

Have I ever had two or more men interested in me at one time? No. Am I a widowed mother of two? No. Am I living my TV job fantasy? Not even close. Yet, I feel a physical, emotional, and spiritual connection to her.

Now, as a 20-something woman, I understand Bridget Jones more than ever. Feeling like you don’t quite fit the ‘perfect woman’ box, watching your weight fluctuate drastically, tallying up drunken cigarettes on a night out, and saying fuck every other word - it’s all too familiar.

[sixtiescowboy]

breaking free

The scariest part is realising how much time I’ve spent online. I got my first account at 11. I’m 25 now. That means I’ve spent over half my life on the internet. And if I don’t change something now, how much more time will I lose to scrolling?

So, I’m making a change. No more mindless apps. No more chasing algorithms. Just a website, maybe a YouTube channel, and actual, meaningful connections.

If you need me, you know where to find me.

[sixtiescowboy]

the luxury of logging off

When I was at school, we talked about how in the past, only rich people had cars while the poor used horses. Now, everyone has cars, and the wealthy own horses as a luxury. Social media feels the same way.

Being chronically online is a very working-class thing. Celebrities don’t run their own accounts. Even influencers with massive followings have managers handling their posts. The real luxury? Not needing social media. Not relying on it for work, connection, or validation. That’s what the rich have. The rest of us are stuck in the cycle.

[sixtiescowboy]

slowing down

I’m so over short-form content. That’s not who I am. I love long conversations, deep dives, real connections. But now, content has to grab attention in a second or it’s worthless? It’s exhausting. I miss the old days of YouTube, where you followed someone because you genuinely cared about them. And you stuck around for years.

It’s been over a decade and I still care deeply about Dan and Phil, and SprinkleOfGlitter, etc. But I genuinely couldn’t tell you the names of half the people I follow on TikTok and watch EVERYDAY! It makes me feel sick.

[sixtiescowboy]

too much screen time

Another wake-up call? Seeing people online say, “I knew I needed a detox when my screen time hit three hours a day.” Three hours?! Mine is wayyy higher than that. I’m always on my phone. I need it gone!

I still remember my first Instagram post. Just a filtered picture of my friend’s family computer with the caption “Laptop time.” Back then, hitting 11 likes was a big deal because Instagram would stop showing usernames and just say “11 likes.” That was the moment you'd made it. And now? There are bigger audiences, but less joy. Stories aren’t even stories anymore—they’re curated content. It’s lost all spontaneity.

[sixtiescowboy]

fear of being percieved

One of the biggest reasons I struggle with social media is the fear of being seen. Posting on my story makes me anxious because I know real-life people will see it. And that’s not anyone’s fault—it’s just me. But if I remove the platform entirely, then I can just focus on creating without worrying about who’s watching!

[sixtiescowboy]

the £££ problem

The frustrating part is that most of the opportunities I find on Instagram aren’t even paid. It’s all about “community” and “supporting artists,” but somehow that never includes actual payment. I have rent to pay! In my social media detox I’m choosing LinkedIn for work. A website (this blog) and/or YouTube for creativity. And that’s it.

[sixtiescowboy]

finding a better space

I’ve been looking into Digital Gardens, personal websites that act as archives of your thoughts, interests, and work. A space that actually belongs to you. The internet was supposed to be a web, everything connected. But right now, I feel disconnected.

I think that’s why I’m shifting gears. I think I’ll use this as a website/blog. Maybe start a YouTube channel. Just to keep me from doom scrolling and be more considerate in what I consume and share.

The YouTubers I’ve been watching lately have the purest energy, celebrating their 32 subscribers like it’s a huge milestone. Because it is a huge milestone! That’s the kind of joy I want.

[sixtiescowboy]

my last straw and fragile ego

The final push to get rid of 'social media' came when I posted an Instagram reel featuring videography from an event I covered. It got 1.5K views, which felt huge to me! But, 24 likes. Thousands of views, and barely any engagement. People will watch, maybe even share, but not actually interact? Social media, where is the “social” part?

And the advice for growth? Follow the algorithm’s rules, niche down, be consistent. Yet, these platforms can’t even decide who they are. Instagram is trying to be TikTok, YouTube, and Snapchat all at once. Meanwhile, I have to squeeze myself into a tiny, marketable box just to maybe get seen? No thanks.