Well, it finally happened.
I don’t know if it constitutes a sickening betrayal of principles, but I’ve finally made myself a Twitter account. Sadly enough, I’d been debating this decision for much longer than I waffled on the idea of posting a politically relevant observation a few days ago. I guess we’ll just mark this little episode as unfettered narcissism and move on, because that’s what we do now. Because that’s what Twitter is.
I had literally the entire world to choose from when picking the people (not known to me) who I’d follow first, and I picked people who think exactly the same way I do. Never mind that it’s kind of a sick thing that there’s sort of an institutionalized Following of the Celebrity when joining Twitter. But of course, why else would you join Twitter if not to hear what your favorite pop icons are doing at every waking moment? And then I move on.
Sure, I could dig deep and find tweets from people who’re about to die in a war in some far flung corner of the globe, but the fleeting nature of both cuts too deeply. I’d always thought that the superpower of being able to read people’s minds would be incredibly useful, if not a horrible curse from time to time. Ye gods! I could use Twitter so well to find out what other people really think! But screw it, I can pay attention to whichever person in the States is being super racist in public at the moment. But no–I didn’t join up to watch a squalid freak show. This is the Internet. My cup runneth over with bigger and better freak shows.
So that begs the question: why the hell did I sign up in the first place? Was it just sick curiosity, or was there a plan? Am I just hoping for that self-indulgent dopamine rush when I see a little blue circle in my inbox? Is it just a misguided attempt at real human contact? All? None?
Whatever it is, I chickened out and didn’t sign up under @BloodSharts, though now I’m kind of wishing I had. You can find me @HiDefFantasy.