Who needs Twitter?
Lately, I’ve been reminiscing about the glory days of the Internet which, for me, is circa 1994 – 2007. Oh, the innocence of that time, known as the Left Beveled Table period, which came shortly after the Cretaceous period. Social media, during this era, was not a formal force. Discussion happened in ICQ, blog comments, or, gloriously, a BBS. I miss my wild blog comments section sometimes, and the mighty blog rolls where we all linked to each other and found new blogs and new connections that way.
But then things began to change.
Email conversation with a friend from July 2007.
Friend: Any chance you’d sent your blog preferences so that I can read the entire post in Google Reader? Or any reason why you have it set so I have to click on the post title and go directly to your page?
Me: But this way I get hits on my little hit counter. Deep inside, I’m a bean counter. Not the answer you were looking for?
Friend: Huh. I see. Are you on Facebook?
Me: I refuse to lower myself to Facebook. Wasteland. It’s bad enough that my sister signed me up for BeBo and something called Multiply. No Facebook. I have pride.
Friend: Why are you rejecting? http://tametheweb.com/2007/07/is_blogging_dead.html Believe? Nosiree. I have a Facebook account. Not exactly sure what I’m supposed to do with it… but I’ve got one. I check my non-friends every day. It’s like reliving high-school. What is BeBo?
Me: I don’t really know what BeBo is, but I have an account, by golly!
I’m rejecting because on the two social network sites that I’m on (the two I mentioned) I get requests to be friends with chicks in their underwear, smashing their chest together for full effect. Really, it’s annoying. “No, Cassandra, I don’t want to be your ‘friend’.” I prefer the elitist method of blogging on my own web host and moderating comments. It’s so much purer. Plus, after five years of steady blogging, I get hundreds of hits a day, and emails from all kinds of people that comment on stuff. It’s like social networking, except without Cassandra and her chest smashing.
Friend: So if there are four types of “Adoption Types” which one are you:
Innovators
Early Adopters
Late Adopters
Laggards
Me: I’m an early innovator laggard. I should think that obvious.
Friend: As per an earlier email. Perhaps you’d like to join. http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2213588687
Me: You temptress.
Friend: So I take it you don’t Twitter either.
Me: We do have a lot of bird feeders. That’s about the only answer I could come up with.
Friend: I don’t understand the Twitter thing. I barely understand the Facebook thing, but whatever. Twitter just… I just don’t get it. Why would anybody care where others are? Why would anybody want to tell others where they are all the time?
Me: Exactly. Why would I care where “Brucey” is, and what he’s doing? Why would I care about what some guy named “lazycoder” has to say about his presentation for tomorrow? Why pay for DSL for that non-information? Wasteland.
Friend: Yeah. I just don’t get the point.
(I began perusing the Twitter site for examples.)
Me: For example, Clintus is on Twitter, and states: “I don’t know what to do.” I don’t think Twitter will be able to help Clintus.
It’s easy to forget pre-Twitter, and pre-Facebook (i.e. pre-drama). I kinda wish I was there again. Lately, I’m really, really tired of Facebook. Twitter is easy enough to ignore; it’s more a dumping ground than anything, but Facebook? When you’re on the network, it’s all up in your face.
When I finally did sign up for Facebook, there weren’t that many people on there I knew. I spent most of my time making virtual gingerbread cookies and populating a virtual fish tank. It was fun. Then lots more people started showing up.
I suppose it all comes down to I don’t really care to be "connected" to lots of people, and the fact that my friend’s statement (“why would anybody care where others are? why would anybody want to tell others where they are all the time?”) made perfect sense at the time and I’m angry that it seems like a strange question now.
Because it should make sense.
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