Took a break from Facebook since about a year ago.
At the time it felt like high school all over without the actual indulgence of youth which accompanied the era.
That’s all right for teenagers, but this guy ain’t a kid anymore.
Now Twitter has become the same way, especially with the mass immaturity exhibited during this election year in the US. If it weren’t so addictive, this chronic complainer would have given up on the platform and been gone ages ago.
Petty annoyances prevail: braggarts with constant reminders of their outstanding (to them) accomplishments; power freaks, attempting to force beliefs and their way of life upon minions and such, while many of the latter feel left out of their cool people’s clique for being an oddball, or different from the norm, resentful of the fact that their own lives pale in comparison; or maybe even because the latter is a threat to the formers’ dominance and stature, raining on their parade, taking away the glow from their auras.
Thoughts of all that disappearing in adult life had actually become a virtual reality again for a put-off minion who feels the wrath of insecurity as if it were a déjà vu.
Seems like Social Media demigods are enabled by their well-meaning followers who feed the former’s massive egos, like brown-nosing high schoolers, wanting to be included with the in-crowd.
Makes one wonder, what would become of these pompous individuals had the words “I,” “me,” or “my” been left out of our vocabulary?
Note what trends on Twitter other than political vitriol, both left, right and center; and posts that fuel gossip, flaming a knock-down of someone in the news or entertainment world. Thank goodness for sports to maintain some decorum; although, even there is acridity.
Hashtags are otherwise mostly anything that includes “I,” “me,” or “my” in the title, for which everyone seems to take delight and participate, talking about their favorite subjects: themselves.
#MeWhenImMad…blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah with an exponent of 2 and an annoying, constantly repeating, animated .gif for emphasis.
Social Media allows anyone to become a star in their own right. Never before this medium developed were celebrities, politicians, world leaders, famous authors, musicians or anyone of importance, etc., so accessible to the general public, which is a good thing essentially.
What irks this old grump are the wannabees who ride the tide of those who became a celebrity or leader by the sweat of their own brow; but these measly thieves only steal the wind from the sails of the latter for the copycat’s claim to fame, posting photos, music, drivel, or memes that were created by others.
Fanatics are OK; however, they can get to be self-centered and cavalier. Fandom is like a whole different realm within which all seem to get along.
Sure, most tweeps can browse Google’s image search to find outstanding art and pictures made by talented individuals to post and gain thousands of likes and retweets for themselves; but could they attract attention with using their own work, something they’ve written, photographed or created themselves, if they had indeed done so?
Maybe, if they were famous enough. Not likely for an unknown, unless they’re lucky to become viral on the Internet. Take it from this disgruntled artist.
Other than in the title, the hashtag examples and main premise of this tirade, the words “I,” “me” and “my” are omitted from this essay for the purpose of writing without using them. It’s hard to do. Try it sometime.
Even novelists, writing with a third-person perspective, have trouble doing it, for their characters use the words all the time in dialog.
Facebook is now a part of this bellyacher’s itinerary again. Nothing much has changed, but fortunately the few real people who have remained true spirits are still there to keep this old coot around.
Twitter has changed since this twit joined, it seems; but it’s the incendiary nature of most everything posted now that’s the addictive force which stirs adrenaline and endorphins to flow, binding my psyche with it. Shame on me. Oops, I used one of them, nay, two; make that three. My bad (that’s four). I’m gone, er, five. See you later.
Thanks for your continued support and listening ear.