I can’t remember the last time I survived a day without someone mentioning a Tweet they saw, or spotted someone huddled over their phone without seeing that wretched blue bird flashing on the screen, or opened a newspaper without reading about yet another Twitter row that’s exploded between some Z-list celebs.
More tragically, I can’t remember the last day that passed by without me frantically logging on to see what’s happening in the Twittersphere.
Yes that’s right, I’m a Twitter addict. There I said it, and if the claim that admission is the first step to recovery then it looks like I’m on the right road.
To prove to myself that life really was better before Twitter, I’m taking a step back in time to 2009 when, to me, a tweet was little more than the sound of a bird. For one whole week I’m going to see if I can last without logging on and here are a few of the things I definitely won’t miss.
It isn’t a popularity contest
I don’t care how many followers you have or how many you are off having however many thousand and I don’t want my feed clogged up with real time updates on how much fun you’re having with your friends.
This all smacks of desperation and all it does is fuel my suspicions that you’re making up for what you lack in real life by fabricating popularity in cyberspace. Stop it, now.
Leave a little to the imagination
Yes, everything you write is being put out there for the universe to read. This seems to be a rather large factor that many Tweeters forget.
I don’t want to read about your toilet habits, the puke-infested aftermath of a night out or a break-down of the ingredients of every single meal you eat. I hate to say it but it really isn’t all that interesting.
“I hate him”, “I hate myself”, “Worst day ever” Tweets never warrant a response in my opinion.
It’s the equivalent of rocking up in the middle of London or New York and screaming it out loud. You just wouldn’t would you?
Leave your phone at home
Saturday and Sunday mornings always brings with them a string of drunken Tweets that have mysteriously disappeared from my timeline by about noon, and the person who designs an app preventing Tweeting while drunk is going to be very rich.
Lashings of love have been made and lost thanks to booze-fuelled Tweeting – the only problem is it hasn’t exactly been done in private. Instead they’ve been played out to a somewhat entertained audience who have been watching the love bubble break or float.
Keep it real
If Twitter is a true representation of the global population then we’re screwed. I’ve clicked on the unfollow tag a million times after stumbling across an abusive or nasty Tweet that’s been sent to someone – usually a celebrity – for no particular reason.
It seems when people have a shield of anonymity to hide behind, common courtesy is thrown out the window. If you wouldn’t say it to their face then don’t cram it into 140 characters and send it for the world to see.
So there you have it, rant over. Now I’m off to have one last fix before I go cold turkey.