Can't stop the tweet
Sure, it's self-indulgent drivel. But at least I don't feel so alone.
Published April 7, 2009
By now you've surely heard about the growing (mutating?) Twitter phenomenon. I won't belittle you by explaining the meta social networking site. Maybe you already have your own account. I'll even admit that the only screen open on the computer this is being written on is my browser logged on to Twitter. And I'm periodically refreshing the page. (There, I just did it again.)
Twitter has been criticized for two things, namely that it's self-indulgent drivel (it is) and a naive and doomed experiment in social media (the jury's still out). And it really is a case on a peculiar spectrum -- Twitterers are simultaneously hyper-connected and communication impaired. For example, my roommate and I tweet at each other on topics like her transparent favoritism in regards to her pet mice and complaints about our roommate who, given her apparent allergy to the Web site (read: lifestyle choice) never knows about our subtle jabs at her cleaning habits (read: lack thereof). The kicker? We do this while under the same roof. But I also follow local newspapers' instant updates on City Council election results. Redeeming? Maybe, maybe not. So I've reviewed my Twitter and compiled an unscientific list of my most questionable recent tweets:
-- The time I spent my Saturday night in my apartment watching '50s sex education videos on YouTube. (My excuse is that I went to Catholic school and never got to see these videos and had a lot of "Oh, really? Learn something new every day" moments. Um, and that I had a headache and didn't feel like going out that night.)
-- The time I tweeted a link to an Associated Press story about the "questions or comments?" phone number listed on boxes of a certain brand of cereal mistakenly connected to a phone sex hotline -- "Do you love sex? Isn't that why you called?"
-- The time I tweeted about drinking something called Leninade -- a red soda decorated with Lenin's likeness, a hammer and sickle and a plug for a fake Web site called www.leninade.communism, while my Facebook newsfeed posted the results of a political ideology quiz I took that pegged my beliefs as one step away from Stalin's backyard. Doesn't help that my Twitter bio mentions my Russian major. Future employers, it's a novelty beverage, all right?
But for whatever reason, some people like (and at least 72 people tolerate) my tweets about my roommate (the Twitterless one), who on her birthday climbed into a giant space bag and burst out of it, re-enacting her birth in the middle of the floor in the living room of our apartment. And I tolerate inside jokes I don't understand from people I follow (something about being on a boat?) because I find them amusing. And when a friend comes over to eat dinner and ends up staying to watch a TLC special called "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" -- which includes the true story of a woman who didn't know she was 9 months pregnant until she went to the bathroom and after a particularly difficult bowel movement realized she had birthed a baby girl when she heard crying from inside the toilet -- I feel less alone as an easily entertained 20-something when two friends tweet back that they know exactly which show we're talking about.
Sure, there are the bleeding-heart believers who see tweets as the future of journalism, communication and personal relationships. Maybe they're on to something. But I'd be lying if I said I was drawn to Twitter for reasons more noble than following I_Am_Shaq and the fake account of someone pretending to be my best friend setting things on fire. I'm all right with that. (And I just refreshed my Twitter again.)