An excerpt from “Why I’m Social-Media Promiscuous”, from The Good Men Project Magazine.
I had been socially awkward for most of my life. I’d show up in social situations and not be able to remember if the person I was talking to was married or divorced, had one kid or three, was a Republican or Democrat. Acquaintances would ask me questions and I couldn’t think of what to say in return.
Half of me was worried I’d let slip something stupid about my life, and the other half was scared that I would totally screw up what I should have known about their lives. Nearly every conversation filled me with anxiety. When I could, I’d say as little as possible and leave the room. I rarely spoke on the phone. Work was a safe haven: the conversations were safe, scripted, and professional. I worked a lot.
In the summer of 2008, right before I made the decision to get on Facebook, I read an article in The New York Times by Clive Thompson called “Brave New World of Digital Intimacy.” Clive wrote about something social scientists call “ambient awareness”:
Each little update—each individual bit of social information—is insignificant on its own, even supremely mundane. But taken together, over time, the little snippets coalesce into a surprisingly sophisticated portrait of your friends’ and family members’ lives, like thousands of dots making a pointillist painting. This was never before possible, because in the real world, no friend wouldbother to call you up and detail the sandwiches she was eating. The ambient information becomes like “a type of ESP,” an invisible dimension floating over everyday life.
Ambient awareness not only made perfect sense to me, it was what I’d been missing my entire life. My fear of interaction and social situations meant I didn’t interact with people. I didn’t know how. A form of ESP—some way of knowing enough about people’s lives to be able to have a comfortable conversation—was exactly what I needed.
Like Gladwell’s concept of weak ties, the idea of ambient awareness was information I could act on. All I had to do was get in the rhythm of seeing what was happening in people’s lives through status updates and other postings; that way, when I connected with them in real life, I could have a conversation. I knew when someone had been promoted to vice-president, or when they had been fired. I knew if his or her relationship was “complicated.” And not only could I recognize people, I could recognize their kids.
The running joke about Twitter was, “Who wants to know which breakfast cereal you’re eating?” The answer?I do. When in doubt, I could have a conversation about Corn Flakes.
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The full story, like most stories of love affairs, is long and complicated. Read it here.
Blog Commenting is the key to the universe. Ok, a tad of an overstatement. But it’s pretty f&%ing amazing if you do it well. You can a) get known by influencers b) help other people, by shedding your own particular insight on the topic at hand. c) become more insightful and more articulate in the process.
I think instead of writing for the GMP, I’ll submit exclusively to Penthouse Forum and Fantasy Football Weekly from now on. Maybe then I’ll finally be accepted into the League of Penises.