"Maybe I Just Like Talking to Myself": a reflection on my obsession with social media.

Because let's be real.
"Social" Media?  That would require me to be social.

Which you know, I want to be.  It's the rest of the world that's the problem.  I have yet to find the sign taped to my back that says "avoid at all costs" but I'm convinced it's there anyway.

But this isn't really a discussion of why I have no friends.

Social media users can be broken down in one of two ways:
You're either:

The Talker

Or

The Stalker

The Talker wants the world to know their story.  All of it.  Including the editing, revising, and publishing of that story.

They want you to know when they breathe, eat, sleep, etc.  Their thoughts, feelings, emotions, dreams, aspirations, temper tantrums.....

The Stalker gets his/her kicks from watching the Talkers.  The Stalkers amass information regarding the many people they are connected to on these social sites.  They're often heard saying "Did you hear...?"  They know everything.  Everything.

There is,of course, the in-betweens.  You can really think of a spectrum existing between the Talkers and the Stalkers and that would be pretty accurate.

If I were to put myself on that spectrum I would lean very heavily towards the Talker.  I mean really.  ...I have a blog.

...not only do I have the blog, I also have facebook, tumblr, skype and most recently, twitter.

You can find me anywhere, really.  I'm most definitely a Talker.

I like to vent.  I like to have my thoughts and feelings in writing.  I prefer typing them over writing them.  I don't think of my blog like an auditorium, where I know tickets have been bought and I'm going to take the stage.

No.  I think of my blog more like I'm standing on top of a building downtown where there's a lot of foot traffic.  I'm yelling my thoughts and it feels good.  Most people either can't hear or ignore me, but every now and then someone stops and listens and laughs, then goes on with their life.

For me, it's not about the number of followers or friends. I routinely do facebook purges because I just don't care about that little number trying to tell me how many friends I have.  I sure as hell know I don't ACTUALLY have 277 friends.

I know the majority of those 277 could care less about me.  I'm realistic.

I think if I lived in a different time I would have journals.  Lots of them and the majority filled with nonsense.   I think the point of my blogging is to get these thoughts out of my head. I can look back and reflect later. I can see how my feelings have changed and grown because I wrote it down.

I don't care who is listening.  I don't care what you think, unless you're one of my closest friends and I actually value your opinion.  Which, you're probably not.

So really.  Whether it's a long post like this or 140 characters, my social media activity has a lot more to do with ME than it has to do with...being social.

To sum it up: Maybe I really do just like to talk to myself.  Just with social media: people overhear.

A gem from my ride back to CT:

....like, a semi-precious gem.  It's not much.

So we’re on our way back to CT, as of this writing we have 11 hours to go before we get home.  With Michelle back in the car after bassoon camp (because I have a sister that enjoys things like…bassoon camp in the middle of bumfuck nowhere), it’s becoming a very interesting ride.

Michelle has a habit of making noise.  It’s really no wonder she decided to go into music.  When an instrument is not made available to Michelle she will often make her own peculiar vocalizations.  These vary from “injured goose” to “screaming yodel”.  She also has this creepy voice she does…but that’s beyond explanation and really something you have to experience. 

It was only around 10 minutes into the ride when Michelle decided she was bored enough to start…being Michelle.  I turned to my dad and told him about a game I play in my head when I’m bored.

It’s called “Discovery Channel Narrator”.

When I’m bored, I’ll often people-watch and narrate their story in my head…as if they’re a wild animal species and I’m from Discovery Channel or Animal Planet.

Because I was telling my dad, I gave an example.

“The Michelle is a curious creature with an affinity for all things noise.  This species( playus bassoonus)will often find substitutes for her instrument of choice.  The instrument The Michelle has become most skilled on resembles a large piece of wood, such as a bedpost.”

My dad laughs and we start adding more and more species characteristics to our discovery channel special on “The Michelle”.

This goes on for awhile and, as is the case with most road trip conversations, we eventually lull ourselves into another silence.

My brother Ben slurps loudly from his milkshake.

I turn back to my dad.

“The Ben is a reclusive species with a disdain for the outdoors and physical activity.”

My dad supplements: “Like the Koala, The Ben has a very limited diet”

I interject:

“This diet of chicken products such as “nuggets” or the larger “fingers” and the required chocolate milkshake make McDonald’s a favorite hunting ground for The Ben, though he still requires his parental units to hunt for him in these instances”

Ben has caught wind that we are no longer discussing “The Michelle” and objects by trying to direct the discovery channel inquiry onto me.

I tell them go for it.

Ben tries:

“The Jenny is a very aggressive species”

My dad adds:

“The species defining characteristic is a well honed and sharp wit, as well as one of the sharpest tongues in the animal kingdom”.

At this point the car becomes silent.  I raise my eyebrows, and my dad supplies:

“I think they’re too afraid.”

So I supply my own:

“The Jenny has a particular ability to get along with animals of all species: with the exception of her own.”

…..We didn’t even try to narrate my dad’s species.

The trip generally went downhill from there.