Tuesday, 16 June 2009

T(wittering) On

Sometimes it can be useful to update a group of people at once on something important, useful or entertaining. I can see how the ability to send an informative text or short online message to the world at large could be worthwhile.

I can even see the psychological benefits of always having someone to share your news with, to celebrate or commiserate accordingly.

Yet when I go to my Twitter page I am bombarded, swamped with the minutiae of other people's lives.

The level of information deemed worthy of transmitting to the planet at large is staggering in the depth and breadth of its tedium. Tweets about breakfast, tweets about the weather, tweets about other tweets. This is the kind of excessive detail I would find arse-numbingly dull from my nearest and dearest and I actually give a fuck about what they're up to. If my daughter, husband, best friend or mother phoned me up every five minutes to tell me "I'm having my first coffee of the day", "I fancy some toast" or ""I might buy some trousers" I would have to have them sedated. It's just not normal.

Who are these incessant babblers of crap and why do they spend so much time on Twitter? It's not that they don't have anything else to be getting on with, surely? Many of them appear to have jobs. Jobs which involve sending out a message on their caffeine intake, what they fancy for tea tonight and how incredibly stressed and busy they are at work today every three minutes. Which is odd because when I am at work I simply don't have the time for this sort of obsessive compulsive behaviour, even if I did happen to have the inclination.

There are one or two Tweets of Interest. Links I would have missed if someone else hadn't flagged them up. The occasional snippet of genuine interest. Most of it, however, is the kind of stuff you'd only pretend to be interested in if you were humouring someone (eg. the nodding and "uh-hum"ing one does when engaged in a one sided telephone conversation with an elderly relative) or hoping for a shag (eg. the nodding and "uh-hum"ing one does when stood at a bar with a talkative drunk who, though boring, has big tits and may well be up for it).

Why do I still bother with it then, if I hate it so much? Fuck knows. Much like blogging I just seem to wander in now and then, hurl a bit of abuse and stagger out again. I shake my fist at the television too.

11 comments:

The Famulus said...

Twitter is inane chat. Minds are off (as you pointed out) and tongues are on. It is broadcasting without any standards and that means that we all sink to the lowest level possible. Whatever is easiest.

But you choose who you follow, so you'll just have to be a little harder on those that babble.

I like it. I wave at friends and tell everyone when I need to pee. Which is now. Talk later...

Sulpicia said...

Am getting ready for work. The North has greened in a day. SUMMER. Finally.

(Ooops, sorry. That was for twitter. Sometimes I get confused about which inane statement to post where... Fucking complicated shit this blogging and twittering!)

Carnalis said...

.. or hoping for a shag ..'

surely not!

Helga Hansen said...

You could always ditch the people who follow you (or who you follow) - that would certainly un-clutter your Twitter screen, and your Facebook news feed!

Or... be radical and delete your profile/s!

Morpheus said...

Helga, for once you've actually stumbled across a stunningly good idea. You could actually be ahead of the curve - believe me, within a year or so, the only people still thinking that anyone wants to know what they're doing all the time will be the true narcissists, the ones with the real personality disorder. And as we know, people like that are only interested in themselves, so it'll just be a bunch of misfits shouting but not listening.

The rest of us will have long rediscovered the value of true friends, and realised that most of this blogging/facebook/twitter stuff is really rather dull, repetitive, and ultimately supremely unimportant. A waste of time and effort, in fact. And that, my dear Helga, is the difference between "gone to ground" and "moved on".

Enjoy, for now.

Ro said...

Of course it's incessant babbling of largely pointless nonsense. It's only if we start to see it as more than that that I'd worry.

Me, I look on it in much the same way as I look upon the light-hearted banter over the coffee cups in the kitchen at work ... the downside is the lack of physical feedback while the upside is you don't have to actually be physically available all the time.

And if I ever give you the impression that I really believe that anyone is fascinated in my 140-word drivel, you have my permission to send the men in white jackets to see me :-)

Helga Hansen said...

Blimey, Morpheus... you do pop up in the oddest of places! What was that about moving on? :D

Lots of love - Dull, Dull, Dull Helga

Morpheus said...

Oh yes, Helga, I'm feeling the love. Coincidently, I thought I was bored this afternoon, so I had a look around a few of the blogs I used to follow. Perspective is a marvellous thing, you know - needless to say, I didn't feel the urge to reinstate any into my Reader.

As for "moved on", well, maybe you can find me, maybe you can't. I'm not daft enough to have made it easy, though - I did this for a long time, and I learnt from getting things wrong.

Anyway, you'd be sure to find it dull.

Luka said...

Blog Drama Alert, Blog Drama Alert, AWOOGA AWOOGA, this is Not a Drill!

...um...yeah, bit late with that, wasn't I? Sorry if anyone was hurt by a flailing handbag or something but I was busy stuffing my face and writing angsty poetry and forgot to sound the alarm.

Big kisses and a box of Maltesers to all x

Helga Hansen said...

Oh, not much drama... just a bit of bollocky fun. :D Thank you for being such a fab hostess!

Luka said...

Helga - don't thank me, thank the vodka jellies!