Why is your site like this?

The first reason that my site is like this, is that I like it being like this.

I like how it looks. I chose how it looks. I like what it has to say. I like that I coded it from the ground up. It’s mine. It feels like an extension of myself, silly as that may sound when talking about the internet – something we rarely think of as “genuine.”

I suppose the second reason that my site is like this, is that I like it here.

delovely is part of a community of people who make DIY websites. In my wanderings, I’ve found that this community overlaps with many of my interests at once: writing, zines, art, old tech, a love of learning.

I’ve come across several different names for “us.” All of them are accurate because they capture different aspects of the community.

Some people call us the “small web.” I like that because we feel pretty tightknit. Spend a little time clicking through various links, and you’ll start to run into the same people. You’ll come to recognize them, and they’ll recognize you. You can learn something from everybody here.

Some people call us “the bespoke web.” I like that because every site here feels unique. When you explore someone’s site, read what they write, and admire their style, you get a sense of the person behind it in a way that social media has stripped from us.

Some people call us “web revival.” I like that because it’s nice to think that we’re bringing the concept of the world wide web back to its roots, in a way. We’re relearning how to appreciate the way the web connects us, rather than taking it for granted. Also, it sounds like “folk revival.” We rarely think of digital mediums this way, but when you think about it, the vernacular web really can be something cozy, folksy, and close to the soul.

That’s why my site is “like this.” Because this community taught me that I can make a space on the web that is completely my own, completely “me” – and that I could build it all by myself. ♡

Cool, but why would you want to bother coding your own website in this day and age?

There’s something to be said about digging your hands into something and making it from scratch.

I won’t pretend to be an expert in HTML or CSS, (sidenote: Check out Cepheus and Nightdrifter for that. :) ) though I’ve learned to make something out of the basics.

I personally find site builders like Wix and Weebly a pain to use. The site builders are laggy, they’re bloated with trackers and cookies and monetization which is exactly what I hate about the web today, and I find it frustrating that I have to click and drag and go through drop-down menus just to change the font-weight or size or color, when I already know how easy it is to type up exactly what I want without the lag.

I like my hand-coded site, although it isn’t perfect. I like it because I made it. And I know how I made it. I understand every line of code that goes into painting my ideas onto the screen. I’m a fucking webmistress!

Why do you hate the modern web?

I don’t. I am writing to you in 2022. This, right here, is the modern web. So are the other lovely sites I’ve stumbled upon during my time in the web revival community.

However, I do really dislike the idea of the internet that we’ve collectively bought into for some reason. (sidenote: Spoiler alert: the reason is profit. )

You’re curious about something. You’re immediately told to “Google it.” (sidenote: Of course Google has its uses, but be careful considering Google as the go-to option for everything. See: “Know your enemy pt. 2” ) So you Google it and get a bunch of listicles by sites who make money posting affiliate links. You scroll down hoping to find something useful about it and an ad pops up telling you you need to subscribe, or you need to disable your ad blocker, or you need to check out this hot new sale on... wait, what were you looking for again?

Good luck finding anything interesting and soulful in this SEO-ridden hellscape. (sidenote: Want to find interesting stuff on the web? Try Marginalia Search. ) Oh yeah – I didn’t even mention how every time you hurriedly click out of that stupid pop-up to finally read the answer to your question, the site downloads a bunch of cookies and trackers so that Google and Meta and Amazon can cater personalized ads just for you. (sidenote: Use UBlock Origin, or some other ad & tracker blocker of your choice. )

I also dislike social media. I could go on and on about why, but I’ll try to keep it short and sweet:

• Social media pressures us into believing we need to fit ourselves into perfect little boxes to be liked, when really, we can choose to present ourselves any way we want to on the web.
• Being “liked” isn’t all it’s made out to be anyway.
• Social media propagates and profits off of hatred, misinformation, and polarization. (sidenote: Debates about sexy M&Ms are strategic distractions from actual issues going on in the real world. Pundits profit from playing up to existing polarization, the M&M company profits from the “controversy” they purposefully caused, and Twitter as a corporation profits off of senseless debates that are not conducive to growth, learning, or understanding. By engaging, you are being played. )
• On principle, I refuse to be a pawn in the game of some asshole who hacked into a college dormitory, uploaded girls’ ID pics without their consent, and made a Hot or Not website with them.
• I can’t think of one positive effect that social media has had on my mental health. I can think of many negatives.
• The vast majority of content on social media is junk, and quality content gets lost in the endless feed anyway.

I’d wanted to leave social media for a long time. Web revival offered a healthy way to replace it. Funnily enough, this community gives me all I ever really wanted out of social media, and does it a thousand times better. I can connect with people remotely, share what’s important to me, and get access to content that is thoughtful, interesting, and cool.

You’re stuck in the past!

Maybe I am. Maybe I’m missing out on MLM invites from Sindy from high school, maybe I’m behind on this week’s microtrend, and maybe the world was counting on me to chime in with my performative activism. But I don’t think I’ll ever look back at my life and think, “Gee, I wish I spent more time on Instagram.”

The digital landscape in 2022 stinks so much that the stench is leaking into our reality. There are millions of sites, but we’ve been herded into, like, four of them, and those four just so happen to be the worst ones. People are scheming more and more inane ways to make money off the already-milked dry web. (sidenote: What is the point of paying to see your NFT girlfriend nude if they all look the same underneath? Wait, back up a bit. What is the point of paying for a cartoon if it’s not even unique and customized – just a randomized Mr. Potato Head? (Yes, I unfortunately partly understand why people buy NFTs. I just can’t wrap my head around how deeply sad it is.) ) I’ve been told to pump out content and prioritize “SEO optimization” over writing quality articles. I have to accept the fact that Instagram affected my mental health and relationships during my most vulnerable years.

delovely is my humble little corner of the web, far, far away from the digital dystopia.

I didn’t make my site because I wanted to roleplay what it’s like to have a website in 2002 – although I’ve seen some people who do that, and that’s rad. For many web revival sites I’ve come across, vintage aesthetics are just that: an aesthetic. One which reminds the webmaster that it’s okay to be unprofessional in whatever way they want to be, whether that’s fun, cute, emo, techy, experimental, whatever.

But what’s the point?

Because it’s fun and because it brings me joy.

When I code my site, I’m the one who calls the shots. I don’t have to fit myself into little boxes, and there are no “likes” to give a second thought about. I don’t worry so much about “rambling” or oversharing because, after all, you came to me.

I like delovely. I like how it looks. I like what it says. And I like it here.