Saturday, March 14, 2015

Breaking Up With Twitter on a Saturday Night (In the Category of Mean What You Say.)

@KStreetHipster broke up with Twitter tonight. I watched it happen. I wished her well. Whoever she really is, she is smart, and funny, and bold. She Tweeted like she gave a shit, but maybe something in Twitter broke her. Or maybe she got smart about the thinness of the thread and the use of time allotted. It happens. I’ve seen it before.

Twitter is a strange playground. I’ve met Tweeps in real life; we have become friends -- I love them now. Other Tweeps I wish I could meet; we live only four hours away and they make my Twitterverse a happy place. I have left coast Tweeps and a few who live across The Pond. I still need to pin down logistics on how to tweetup with them, and my life will be richer when I manage it.

I dig that KStreetHipster chose a Saturday night to tell Twitter, “Got a life, need you not.” It adds to the drama – the Twitterverse got dumped like a bad blind date; the nightmare of green beer on amateur night, the Saturday before St. Patrick’s Day. She didn’t seem hostile or suicidal. I’ve seen those sorts of Twitter farewells also. They scare me – calls for help I can’t answer.

I don’t mean to mock. Social media means different things to different people. Even I, who thought I fully understood the connections I could make in this ether, have met with the unexpected. It’s been wonderful, and sometimes, it has made me cry. Did I waste time? I could argue yes and no. Certainly, I could do other things with the time I spend Tweeting but I can say that about the time I spend writing, or baking, or gardening, or cleaning the house. Playing with the kittens is as fruitless and fabulous as Twitter. I’m mindful to be where I am.

I recall the first time I saw someone bid Twitter farewell. The implied hubris amused me. It carried a certitude that one would be missed in this digital world we all created together, reaching out to each other, sometimes with teeth and claws. I get where it comes from – filling in the dash – that spot between the day Mom birthed us and the day we died – but I never imagined that if I just dropped off the grid, anyone would notice.

Whatever use @KStreetHipster will now make of her free time, I hope it fulfills her soul. I hope she never looks back, never looks down, never questions each second of breathing. I hope the keen edge of uncertainty leaves her uncut. I hope she finds meaning in the space.

I dance here because it feels like the still point of the turning world. I’ve met devils. I’ve met angels. I’ve crossed lines I never meant to draw. But should the day come when I must leave, I will quietly disappear, wish you well, and never look back. You won't miss me, and I will be fine.

1 comment:

  1. I followed K. She was ferocious, and I think her semi-anonymity helped with that. I keep seeing news stories that I know she would have tackled in a heartbeat! Things about campus censorship, Iran, Israel, and of course Ted Cruz. K helped me wake up to so many things that I never would have thought much about. But most importantly, she was a silver tongued advocate of being involved and taking your seat at the table of public discourse. She despised any number of things, but she reserved her serious vitriol for the unengaged, passive, shruggers of the world. She was an absolute treasure.