I Googled Myself… and Immediately Panicked

This summer has been busy. First, a well-deserved holiday (sun, naps, books that weren’t about work). Then I made the questionable decision to uproot my entire business and move it to a new digital platform.

It was not unlike relocating a physical shop: boxing up inventory, forwarding mail, repainting walls—except in my case the “boxes” were page templates, the “mail” was SEO settings, and the walls…well, they were broken links that needed patching. Exhausting, yes, but now I have a new online home.

The Purple Website That Time Forgot

In the process of testing my site, I made the mistake of googling my own name. Instead of my shiny new platform, the first thing that popped up was a fossil: a WordPress site I built in 1999.

Reader, I had completely forgotten this thing existed. And in that instant, I panicked at the idea that anyone else might stumble across it.

Picture this: a static website, hideous purple background (my feminist colour of choice, apparently), no interactivity, and a tragic photo of me in a red hat and polka-dot dress (see below the only two pictures on my 1999 site). At the time, I thought it screamed “artist.” In hindsight, it whispered “circus intern on day release.”

And then—the blog.

The very first entry began: “I am going to be completely honest about my life…” Which is exactly the kind of sentence that makes your nervous system lock up 26 years later.

The blog had a name: Cibernetic Toilet Literature. Yes. That was my branding. The concept was: this is writing to consume on the toilet, during your most undignified moments. It was self-deprecating—aimed equally at me and the reader—and filled with theatre reviews, art opinions, and long stories about downtown New York parties.

Naive as it was, it actually had readers. This was the late 90s, when private lives were just beginning to leak into public domain, when the social incentive “to be seen and heard” was mutating into an economic one.

My Dad’s Office, My First Stage

My relationship with the internet began even earlier, in my dad’s office. We didn’t have a computer at home, so his workplace was my only portal.

When I discovered personal webpages, I was astonished. As an aspiring actress, I realized: here was a self-determinist stage. The internet could make you public. My dad, a graphic designer, had software I could tinker with—moving objects, playing with layouts, experimenting with colors. It felt like using costumes and stage lights, but on screen. I was hooked.

Which brings me back to the FAQ page on my first ever site (because yes, 1999-me thought strangers would have Frequently Asked Questions about me). One of my answers read:

“I don’t know what the outcome of the workshop will be, what will appear on the other side. I do not Know. And that’s a grounding center stage, rather than a psychological denial of mind. Not Knowing allows the world to reveal itself as new, then there is space for life to happen.”

Reader, this actually sold tickets! In Brooklyn. (Pre-cool Brooklyn, mind you.)

From Tender Internet to Capitalist Stage

The internet then felt different. There was etiquette: no ALL CAPS, don’t waste bandwidth with sprawling posts, remember that connection was expensive. It was weirdly earnest.

Now, it’s a conflict machine. Disagreement sells. Branding sells. Being perpetually visible sells.

What started as a hobby became an imperative: to register your identity online or risk not existing. The dream of a freer, truer self on the internet curdled into performance—looking enviably hot and well-travelled on Instagram, triumphant on LinkedIn, politically relevant on Twitter.

What once promised freedom is now another limb of capitalism: the economy of self. And we are all its workers.

And yet—I’m no different. My career was made possible by the internet. My business lives here. If the internet collapsed tomorrow, so would my livelihood. I’m grateful for the clients who find me, the readers who read me, the people who share my work.

 But I’m also determined not to let the internet collapse me. Not to reduce my identity to the sum of my logins, posts, or algorithms.

Full Circle

If you’ve read this far, I’m in awe of you—and deeply grateful for your precious bandwidth.

Which brings me, finally, to my new website: the fourth I’ve built since the era of the purple WordPress site. I’m proud of it.

As a resourceful migrant who left home at 19, moving first to the US and then the UK, I’ve always had to invent ways of making a living: workshops, theatre shows, consultancy, coaching. At my core, I’ve always been a mix of artist, performer, and businesswoman.

This summer, I added “web designer” to that list. And I’m proud.

So please—visit my new digital home. Wander. Send feedback. It’s just me on this side of the screen (no AI bots… yet).

 And no, I promise, I will not resurrect Cibernetic Toilet Literature.