Sunday, May 29, 2011
Feeling jaded by social media. First, it's exhausting to try to keep up with the pace of discussion. It's a damn waste of time when I have so much else I should be doing. And that time isn't even well spent. I feel like I give to it and don't get back.
Second, I am on there for professional reasons but I feel like a lame failure in the face of all these people talking about all the very exciting and clever and prestigious things they're doing. I feel very remote from it all, as though everyone else is kicking goals except me, and even if I were to kick a goal myself nobody would notice.
Third, I treat it like a substitute for real interaction because I just sit at my desk by myself for large chunks of each day. But it's not as rewarding. It's so easy to think you're 'conversing' by trading throwaway lines, 'likes', funny links, etc, but you're not. What does it really mean? What kind of lasting connection are you really building? Looking for genuine support and companionship from social media feels like shouting down a well.
Fourth, I feel sad that I am not a peer influencer; that I can't galvanise and enthuse other people, and make events happen. Sometimes I check the stats on the links I tweet, and only one or two or three people have even clicked on the link. For instance, I really wanted to start up a singing group, but only about five people said they'd definitely do it, and they were all women, and I find the idea of being in charge of a 'women's choir' really embarrassing and repellent as this implies chunky amber beads, woollen wraps and cropped wide-legged pants worn with boots. And salt-and-pepper pixie cuts. And red leather jackets.
Fifth, and I guess at the root of all this, is that I am feeling very sad and lonely and exhausted and mediocre, but nobody wants to read about that. Social media really foreground that requirement to 'perform' oneself in a way that's palatable to others. At least here on my own blog I have an excuse to go on about myself.
I am so annoyed with myself that I find it impossible to stay away from social media when it is so hollow and unrewarding.
Second, I am on there for professional reasons but I feel like a lame failure in the face of all these people talking about all the very exciting and clever and prestigious things they're doing. I feel very remote from it all, as though everyone else is kicking goals except me, and even if I were to kick a goal myself nobody would notice.
Third, I treat it like a substitute for real interaction because I just sit at my desk by myself for large chunks of each day. But it's not as rewarding. It's so easy to think you're 'conversing' by trading throwaway lines, 'likes', funny links, etc, but you're not. What does it really mean? What kind of lasting connection are you really building? Looking for genuine support and companionship from social media feels like shouting down a well.
Fourth, I feel sad that I am not a peer influencer; that I can't galvanise and enthuse other people, and make events happen. Sometimes I check the stats on the links I tweet, and only one or two or three people have even clicked on the link. For instance, I really wanted to start up a singing group, but only about five people said they'd definitely do it, and they were all women, and I find the idea of being in charge of a 'women's choir' really embarrassing and repellent as this implies chunky amber beads, woollen wraps and cropped wide-legged pants worn with boots. And salt-and-pepper pixie cuts. And red leather jackets.
Fifth, and I guess at the root of all this, is that I am feeling very sad and lonely and exhausted and mediocre, but nobody wants to read about that. Social media really foreground that requirement to 'perform' oneself in a way that's palatable to others. At least here on my own blog I have an excuse to go on about myself.
I am so annoyed with myself that I find it impossible to stay away from social media when it is so hollow and unrewarding.
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I feel your pain. I did about 13 tweets then ditched the whole thing, finding it an entirely mortifying waste of time.
And now that I'm moving into middle age, I'm finding it like one long invitation to join a daggy women's chair full of salt and pepper pixie cuts. Run away!
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And now that I'm moving into middle age, I'm finding it like one long invitation to join a daggy women's chair full of salt and pepper pixie cuts. Run away!
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