Okay, here’s my blog post about the “i hate family” project, written in a casual, personal style, and using simple HTML tags:
So, I stumbled upon this phrase, “i hate family,” and it kinda stuck with me. Not because I actually hate my family, but because it’s such a raw, loaded statement. I thought, “What can I do with this?” I wanted to explore it, not in a therapy session way, but more like…an art project? A digital vent, maybe?
First, I just started brainstorming. I grabbed my notebook – a real, paper one, because sometimes the computer just feels too…clean. I jotted down everything the phrase brought to mind: screaming matches, awkward silences, that one weird uncle, expectations, disappointments, the whole nine yards. Just a total word vomit, really.
Then, I decided to collect some stuff. I dug through old photo albums (the dusty, physical kind) and scanned a bunch of pictures. Some were happy, some were blurry, some were downright embarrassing. Perfect! I also recorded some sounds – my sister slamming a door, my dad snoring, the clinking of silverware during a tense dinner. Just random snippets of family “life.”
Building the Thing
Next, I had to figure out how to put this all together. I’m no coding whiz, so I kept it simple. I used a basic website builder.
- I created a main page with just the words “i hate family” in big, ugly letters.
- Then, I made a bunch of hidden pages. Each one was linked to a different word or image from my brainstorming session.
- On those pages, I dumped the photos, the sound clips, and some short, angry-sounding text I wrote. I’m talking one-liners, fragments of arguments, stuff like that.
- Click random words. Words that show up when I typed “family problems” into Google.
The idea was, you’d click on the main phrase, and it would randomly take you to one of these hidden pages. Like a chaotic, unpredictable explosion of family dysfunction.
I played around with the colors and fonts, making everything look deliberately messy and unpleasant. Think clashing colors, blurry text, the works. I wanted it to feel uncomfortable, like flipping through a messed-up scrapbook.
Honestly, the whole process was kind of…cathartic. It wasn’t about finding answers or solving anything. It was just about taking this heavy, complicated feeling and turning it into something tangible. Something I could click on, scroll through, and then close the tab when I was done.
And you know the best part, no clean way to finish this.
