I can’t figure out my TV remote, I can barely use a computer, and the only blue tooth I’m familiar with is what happens to your teeth when you don’t brush. And the whole Social Media phenomena? In the words of a New Yorker, forgetaboudit.
I understand the basic concept: To interact with family, friends, and perfect strangers. But here’s where it gets muddy—in an attempt to do what, exactly? Reconnect? Network? To share the details of my latest meal, complete with a before picture of what it looked like when it arrived, and a close-up of the last bite before the waiter took away the dirty plate and dusted the crumbs from the table cloth?
Social media as a way to get laid; now, to me, that makes perfect sense. In that situation a picture really is worth a thousand words. Sort of a, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine, (and I swear I wrote this post before the whole Weinergate debacle.)
Recently, I took a Social Media class, because one, people were suddenly speaking a language I didn’t understand, and two, my daughters told me they didn’t have time to call, and if I wanted to see what was happening in their lives I needed to friend them on Facebook.
And so, there I was, learning the ins and outs of Facebook, blogging, and Twitter. I even sent out my first tweet. Later that same afternoon, I went to work and bragged to my co-workers about my achievement. Only, I confused my past tense verbs and told them I twatted, instead of tweeted. Now there’s a strong chance Human Resources will be getting in touch with me to review the Sexual Harassment in the Workplace page of the work manual.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the time necessary to keep up with all of it. I’m a nobody whose one step away from having to hire a social secretary to handle my correspondence with all these random strangers who suddenly are my “friends,”—few of whom I have anything in common with—like the man who’s a career diplomat, (I hate to tell him, but I wouldn’t know a diplomat from a laundromat) and those guys who follow me on Twitter and have that brewery in Texas, (I do, however, drink beer, so maybe I have something in common with them.)
I wonder if, years from now, someone will do a sociological study that reveals this new desperation to share our stories and connect with the world-at-large was due to a generation of children who felt their voices were never heard while growing up. Or maybe they had parents who never put up those god-awful grade school pictures on their living room walls, so they never felt seen. Maybe social media allows them the validation they lacked as a child, as they yammer on about the most ridiculous things and post those stupid pictures.
That’s all I have to say about social media, but stay tuned for my next blog. It’s going to be all about my extensive button collection, followed by a political rant and a religious tirade. I’ll get to it just as soon as I finish uploading to Facebook this terrific picture I took of myself facing the bathroom mirror.
