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For about six months, I used the popular social networking bloglet service, Twitter. I started Twittering as an experiment, because it looked like fun and like another way to make connections online. In the end, though, it almost ruined my (blog) life.
To take a step back in case you haven't followed it, Twitter is a networking service in which you can enter your thoughts, opinions, or ideas, up to 140 characters. It has evolved to allow the user to drop in links as well, which are automatically tinyurled for your clicking pleasure. People use it to stay in touch with little updates, or to make new friends. It can be embedded your website so others can read your micro-thoughts, or you can read or make updates via email, instant message, or phone.
By this point many of us tech-happy people probably have either used Twitter ourselves, or we know Twerps (yes, I know the preferred term is "Tweeps," a word that implies that your friends are your "Twitter peeps") who make updates, or "Tweets." When I decided to jump in, I jumped in all the way. I updated three to ten times a day with haikus, links to weird sites I'd found, replies to other friends, replies to replies, and my up-to-the-minute thoughts on wombats or Carrot Top.
I had some really good experiences with Twitter. I got little glimpses into my meatspace friends' lives that I wouldn't have otherwise, especially friends who live far away. A friend in Wyoming would talk about trivialities that she would never discuss with me on the phone, because to do so might seem tedious or boring when talk time is precious and more about a true exchange of ideas and opinions. But I liked to read that she had had Thai food for dinner for the third night in a row. A friend in Scotland linked to local events or wrote about things that she would never mention on her blog, which made me feel like I had a better idea of her daily life, over the edited-for-laughs events on her blog. I was connected differently to local friends as well. Spontaneous lunches were hatched because someone mentioned they had a craving for sushi around 10:30 or so, completely avoiding the email volley of "let's make a date soon."
Other people on Twitter who I followed but did not know in real life could be funny or interesting. It was a source of entertaining snacklets that I could dip in and out of at will. I had a stable of about 100 people all looking to upstage, entertain, or connect with each other, and it was fun watching the comments fly past. I was pulled into some blogs and other pieces of writing I never would have accessed otherwise.
There was also the feeling of being part of a big hive of people. You are part of a community that is constantly moving, buzzing, and changing, and that can be a very seductive feeling. However, if I walked away for twelve hours or so, I would feel overwhelmed on returning, which was the beginning of my realization that Twitter was not for me. "Justmylife" has a similar experience with her Twittering:
Now, I Twitter too....not as much. But I am following 96 people over there and 120 follow me....Wait where did all these people come from? I didn’t know I didn’t follow everyone who is following me. *Note to self.... find out who these people are.* But with Twitter, it is hard to follow all the comments. I have gone back pages looking for the original message. But I still can’t seem to give it up.
(As an aside, Justmylife also talks about jumping ship to Plurk--on to the next big thing. I haven't tried it yet, and probably won't, but points against for using the word "emo-ness" on the main page. Sorry, guys.)
This is a common theme in the discussion about electronic communication tools: their addictiveness. What is everyone doing right now? Don't you want to know what I am doing? Ooh, who friended me today? I have nothing to Twitter. I have Twitter block. Should I Twitter that I have Twitterblock? If I keep posting links to Super Mario Brothers porn will everyone unfriend me? These questions kept me up at night, and kept me clicking. I
