This is not called, In Defense of Twitter, because really. Shouldn’t have to. (My two sisters will get that and that’s enough for me.)
But in this age of social media and what with our human penchant for hierarchical thinking, one oft hears about the “pointlessness” of whichever one the speaker doesn’t value/use. So, on Christmas Day, this conversation came up – and I was apparently the only person present using Twitter.
Here’s the thing: I’m not saying it’s deep and existential. I’m saying, what is. Seriously. Is every phone call meaningful? If you said yes, I need to transcribe any of my phone calls with my sisters. They are glorious. But they aren’t “necessary”. Not only do we not even share obscure details of our daily lives with each other (which is unnecessary because we’re all on twitter and facebook so we already know – HAH), we don’t even usually talk about things going on in our actual lives! We talk about ridiculousness. Or make up things. Or talk in movie or tv show code.
The thing is, there’s an entire industry on twitter, it seems. Publishing sort of lives there (and yes, on blogs…oh and in real life). I have arbitrary snatches of conversation with people in whom I’m actually interested and/or admire and hopefully vice versa. Or just strangers who got retweeted who I find hilarious. And when I say random, mundane, arbitrary things and people respond in kind or in relating? It’s good times. It’s fun. It feels connecting.
But I also can’t help but agree with people. I tell you pointless things. I tell you what I’ve eaten and am doing or have thought or am thinking or heard or wanted to hear. It’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous. And I love it. I giggle while I’m doing it and I laugh out loud when you respond. It’s how I know my cousin, Sunshine, even though we’ve never met. It’s how come I feel like my sisters are constantly with me even though we live in different countries.
So I’m gonna lament the lack of sriracha sauce and tell you how I can’t stop thinking of Dreamgirls and also tell you how I’m now melodramatically enjoying Roy Orbison because I’m just all over the place today. Don’t judge me. I promise, I still write physical Christmas cards (sometimes) and I still talk on the phone (slightly more frequently than a recluse) and I go outside (when the mood strikes). And when I do, you’ll know. Because I shall tweet it.