The Drug That Is Twitter
Posted in Uncategorized on November 4th, 2009 by jwadley – Be the first to commentWhen my hubby started pestering me to use Twitter, I was very reluctant. In fact, I’m pretty sure I remember stating emphatically that I would never “tweet” and that the thought was ridiculous. Oh, how above it all I must have felt back then, those… um, two months ago.
My primary argument against Twitter was that I had nothing to say and that no one was interested in the mundane details of my everyday life. And, there, I was both wrong and right.
I do have lots to say. This should not come as a surprise. My sister and I are both loud and rather enthusiastically insistent about our opinions (qualities developed over years of trying to get the most attention at home, and especially in the car – loudest one gets heard, and therefore wins).
But, well, no one is really that interested in the mundane details of my daily life. I mean, I do have some moments to share and stories to tell that are not mundane, that are amusing or insightful or titillating. But honestly, no one cares what I had for breakfast.
What I didn’t realize about Twitter, though, is that it really isn’t about me. Yes, tweeting allows me to record my life in a more honest, journalistic way. Those little 140-characters force me to get to the heart of the matter – to say what I really mean without fluff or fanfare. I can’t hide behind posturing and careful wording designed not to offend.
Again, though, it isn’t really all about me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love having a little voice that is my own, out there and able to be heard by anyone who is interested or bored. I love, LOVE it when something I wrote makes someone laugh, or smile, or wink. The self esteem boost of a mention is a pretty powerful drug. Direct Messages hold the promise of a secret, of a private whispered word, or a shared personal connection. They feel… intimate.
And I love being able to retweet – to take something someone else wrote and let it define me by its repetition – hey, this tweet has inspired or angered or confused me, doesn’t this tell you more about me, and the person I am? The thoughts of other that I admire become a window into myself, and my thoughts. I love sharing that view with others.
When you get down to it, however, Twitter isn’t about me. I love being able to make new friends, and follow people who make me feel good about myself, about my world, about my choices. Or, alternatively, people who make me feel angry and righteous and empowered. Often those are the same people.
I love the information exchange that is Twitter. I love that it makes me feel more informed, and more passionate, and more honest, and more curious, and more accepting, and more critical. It makes me feel more connected, more a part of the big sphere of humanity. I even love that it makes me hang out in the bathroom stall for no productive reason, and stay up long after my bedtime to see what others up late are thinking. (Usually, why am I up so late?)
But, you know, Twitter isn’t really about….
…
…
Well, damn. I guess Twitter is all about me. No wonder it rocks.