The irony of blogging this post is not lost on me.
To clear the air, I am an aspiring journalist. I have dreams of working an entry-level job and copy-editing until my eyes permanently cross all on a minimal paycheck (as my parents never cease to remind me), in the hopes that I will one change the world with my words. And this is not meant to complain about being born a writer at a time when newspapers are used more often to start fires than they are actually read. Really, I’m over it. Rather, it’s something that’s been on my mind for far too long to sit there any longer. It’s burning more holes in my brain than a Jersey Shore episode.
The presence of social media in our lives has escalated to such an extreme that trying to picture life without it is like an Orwell novel in reverse. If you don’t think so, go update your timeline and tell me, what’s the first thing someone does when they see a beautiful sunset?
They Instagram it, simultaneously uploading it to twitter as well. Nothing like sephia tone to preserve a moment, eh? And a meal must taste even better when everyone knows exactly what you’re eating and can admire a picture of it.
Half of any given moment I check my timeline, I know what couple is fighting, who smokes weed, who has an inclination for Nicki Minaj lyrics, and who is currently pooping. TMI, much?
And because of twitter, I also always know who is ignoring my texts. I SEE YOU ON YOUR PHONE! And you just checked in on foursquare, dammit I know you’re home!
Even being born a child of the 90’s, I remember the days before myspace and facebook. I talked on a phone that was plugged into the wall in order to organize whose lawn our lemonade stand would be on that day. Nowadays if I were to do the same thing, I have a nagging feeling that half of the people driving down my street would be looking down at their iPhones and miss me completely.
It just feels as though if there’s no digital footprint of me doing something, it never actually happened. Because no one has the attention span to listen to a story about my day that takes up more than 140 characters. It’s ironic though, because the opposite is true. If you were out there really living, the last thing you’d be doing is tweeting about it.
It’s gotten to the point where I even kind of feel guilty for moving on from one form of social media to another. When I made the switch from facebook to twitter my conscience plagued me for weeks, I pride myself on fidelity. But how else am I going to know who’s throwing this Friday’s kegger? Sorry Zuckerberg.
But of course I won't go out if there seem to be too many tweets asking people to show, because everyone knows that's the most obvious sign of a lame party.
I’ll admit it, this entire rant was inspired by a (not so) friend’s subtweet, “That’s awk” in response to my “If something bothered me that much I would try and fix it.” For Pete’s sake, with 140 characters at your disposal the least you could do is tweet the full “awkward.”
And you know what, it doesn’t bother me at all, that tweet might not have even been about me. But just in case it was, I’m going to go tweet about how #overit I am.