Something I’m noticing about the three main social media outlets I frequent (disclosure: I’m kind of stealing something I saw someone else say, but I don’t remember who said it so I can’t attribute the thought to that person): Instagram is pretty to look at, Facebook is a fairy tale, but if you want the raw truth and to know what’s really going on and how people feel about it, go to Twitter.
This is true.
Here is my problem right now with Twitter (other than the fact some bizarre, mentally ill weirdo who’s inexplicably obsessed with me but too chicken to actually speak to me is setting up fake accounts calling me names once in awhile to…I dunno? Jar me? Maybe this is the adult, psycho version of ordering a pizza for a neighbor and then giggling behind some bushes, watching them and the delivery person stand there, confused, looking at each other? Stupid.)
Where was I? Yes…problem…Twitter. My problem right now is: I need to laugh again. I need to be flippant and facetious and ridiculous and irreverent. I need this, and I need it kind of desperately. But I can’t. Not on Twitter. Twitter, when I actively began using it in 2014, was weird then. I remember writing whole long blog entries about it. But I was still writing stories and occasionally poetry and open to making new friends there. (I still am open to making new friends there, actually, but I have all these rules and criteria set up for it because of how people do each other there.) But it is also something else now…it is no longer a place where I go to see people live tweeting episodes of their favorite TV shows, or making jokes, or to see celebrities promoting worthy causes or wishing happy birthday to fans or promoting their projects. Twitter is sort of…I dunno. Emotionally hard now.
In case you’re not on Twitter, I’ll just let you know: the President of the United States uses it. And when he does, 9.5 out of 10 times, he is crazy. Like mentally unbalanced. He says he uses it to directly talk to the people. I say he’s sitting on his toilet taking a dump, exposing his paranoia and innate, unacknowledged, deep racism.
People I’m friendly with there go: just ignore him, Amy, tune him out. Oh that I could. Because even if I completely blocked him, couldn’t see a single one of his tweets, I’d still see the tweets of people reacting to him and sometimes those are just as scary. That whole accidental Hawaiian nuclear bomb alert yesterday? He didn’t even tweet about it (which is a PROBLEM, you guys, but I digress), and other people were talking about why that was. What I’m saying is: it is virtually impossible to avoid this man on Twitter. I don’t even follow him, and I still cannot avoid him.
So go hang out on Facebook, Amy, I hear you say. But here’s the problem with Facebook: I check Twitter. I watch what’s going on. I know too much. So I get on Facebook, and see people talking about their sweet kids or latest meals or new house or whatever, and that’s nice and everything. But while I love seeing cute kids and animals and want to know when someone needs support or just bought a new house or whatever…I’ve probably just logged on after visiting Twitter, and when I see people tagging other people in movie/dinner dates or squeeing about their love (even though you and I both know there’s about a 90% chance you’re just posting that because you’re making it up to them after a fight…or you’re guilt tripping them because of something rude and snarky they said offline), I just can’t with it. The world is in disarray. I love that you’re happy and healthy and in love or whatever, but I am in an apartment alone with no movie dates and I’m on Twitter watching this orange crazy man…
In other words, I’m real jaded on Facebook. And so I don’t post much or interact much anymore, because I don’t know how not to be jaded and I don’t want to be a party pooper. But meanwhile, there’s a crazy man sitting in the White House doing a lot (I mean A LOT, whoever’s reading this) of fear-mongering. And narcissistic posturing. And shit stirring. And racism. And isolating us from the rest of the world – yesterday I saw an article on Twitter from The Guardian about how Canada (good god CANADA) is now angry at and attacking the USA. When the hell does Canada ever get mad at anyone??? It’s too cold up there for any of them to be hot-headed.
So go hang out on INSTAGRAM, AMY!!! I hear you cry. But the problem with Instagram is…it’s just posting pictures. Pictures of food, pictures of flowers, pictures of my kid, selfies with my kid, pictures of memes, etc and etc. Mostly people are just scrolling through Instagram hitting the heart button. There’s usually no interaction. There’s no exchange of ideas or knowledge. Just…look at this, now look at this, and oooh! I made a pot roast! Here’s my glass of wine. Instagram serves its purpose, and I’m not knocking it and I do squee quietly when I get likes there. But that’s it.
In summary, social media is getting harder and harder for me. And I’m kinda stuck. Because I have people I have only met online who I really really like, and if I don’t at least check in now and then, those relationships die. And I don’t want that. And also I DO care–I DO want to see the kids grow up, get to watch that viral crazy cat video, know about the new jobs and retirements and houses, what good books and shows and movies to see, the funny memes. I probably won’t buy anything from you if you’re selling something, but I’ll send you good vibes and support you…because I am on an extremely limited budget–completely living off what I make, and life is expensive. I really don’t know how single mothers without good exes and just one kid make it, I really don’t. Right now, I’m trying to figure out how to afford food for the rest of January without asking M’s dad for more money. Decembers and Januarys are always tight.
At any rate. This is sort of a regurgitation of my last post. It’s just what’s on my mind right now. So you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to hit Publish on this, then I’m going to go do a frivolous survey thing. All About Me. Because the entire world feels dark and scary and mad right now, but I don’t want to be. And I don’t understand any of it, or why, but I know I can answer questions about stuff I do and don’t like.
And here’s your moment of Facebook. Ridiculous cat memes that make me laugh out loud. Because it’s what I need the most right now.