By Maria DiPasquale, Staff Writer, Emerson College
Here’s a scene with which you might be familiar. It’s Thursday morning. I sit eating my breakfast and shamefully scrolling through each of my social media sites to see what I could have possibly missed in the 8 hours I was sleeping. As soon as I open the Instagram app, I am immediately reminded what day it is: Throwback Thursday. I scroll past grainy baby pictures, manicured prom shots, barely old party photos from last semester. Below each image is the beloved hashtag: “#tbt.”
I don’t pretend to be above this. In fact, I first got started thinking about this while I was home on spring break. I had taken advantage of my boredom and my parents’ photo albums to post a couple baby pictures of myself. As I scrolled through the rest of my friends’ throwbacks, I got to thinking that all my friends were awfully fond of the past. In fact, everyone I could think of had a particular affection for nostalgia.
Read More Here
Here’s a scene with which you might be familiar. It’s Thursday morning. I sit eating my breakfast and shamefully scrolling through each of my social media sites to see what I could have possibly missed in the 8 hours I was sleeping. As soon as I open the Instagram app, I am immediately reminded what day it is: Throwback Thursday. I scroll past grainy baby pictures, manicured prom shots, barely old party photos from last semester. Below each image is the beloved hashtag: “#tbt.”
I don’t pretend to be above this. In fact, I first got started thinking about this while I was home on spring break. I had taken advantage of my boredom and my parents’ photo albums to post a couple baby pictures of myself. As I scrolled through the rest of my friends’ throwbacks, I got to thinking that all my friends were awfully fond of the past. In fact, everyone I could think of had a particular affection for nostalgia.
Read More Here