Meanwhile, celebrities—and the rest of the deeply status-conscious—value it as a free tool for measuring influence.
The little bird turns 8 and looks back at the very beginning:
Thanks to all of you who have come along in our first 8 years. Take a look at where we—and you—started. https://t.co/N0KQ85TJDs #FirstTweet
— Twitter (@twitter) March 20, 2014
My not-first #FirstTweet:
There you go! I've deleted all my twitter updates! Ha. Ha-ha-ha-hu-hu. *developing technofear* (or more of twitterfear)
— Razel Estrella (@fishpeep) June 17, 2009
So I can't really remember my actual first tweet, but the above is proof that I, like everybody else, didn't know what to do with the new platform—but eventually did. A couple of years ago I discussed why I blog and recently I discovered another reason why I'm into Blogger, Twitter, and other similar sites.
Because good listeners are becoming harder and harder to come by. Nowadays you will be cut, misinterpreted, dismissed. At least in these online spaces you have a bit of control. Here, you are allowed to finish your sentence. Here you get to frame your story.
We're stuck in heavy noise traffic. Everyone is busy and has no patience to dwell on another's complexity. As a result, we adapt the strategies we have mastered in our attempts to make a living: make a brand out of ourselves. Be known in one clear dimension.
If there's something I dislike about Twitter (and its visual counterpart Instagram), it's that it pushes us to project an image. Twittersphere for me is— cold. What I miss about the old blogging days are the sincerity, vulnerability, and sheer openness in telling the cyberworld what's going on with you, with little regard to being judged. In fact there used to be a generous curiosity about strangers (bloggers who don't know but follow—and converse with—each other).
There was an excitement in sharing an experience more than an eagerness to show how great you are (which is fine if not excessive).
All this is to say I miss sharing a table with my friends. I also miss the ordinary story-tellers.