The Great Twitter Blackout of 2010

No longer breaking news, I know. In fact, it may be old news, now—I haven't logged onto the Twizzah since before I left the house for my run, and it may have been fixed in the last couple hours. But since the social networking site got hacked and spammed so mightily this morning (I was one of gazillions who got punk'd) I've made two observations about my own relationship with the Twiz.

1. Twitter is very much like a little blue bird. It sits on my shoulder, in my periphery, and although I think I'm focused on other things, I still feel its weight and presence on me. And occasionally, like today, it takes a dump on my lapel. When I have a deadline or can admit my own goof-offishness, I quit my browser and Gmail notifier and go stealth, hiding under the web's radar until I've reached my goal. When Twitter broke today, I was having a good writing morning, typing along quite friskily, feeling impervious to distraction and therefor allowed to have Firefox running. Love those mornings. Then Twitter broke and I decided to just stay off the site for the morning, or until it seemed fixed. Sounds like it's okay in some desktop and mobile apps, unlike the website, but I decided to just skip it entirely. And yet I caught myself clicking over to my browser to check it, like a physical tic. Normally I guess I do this without thinking, but because this morning I had to pause and remember why I didn't have that tab active, I noticed just how often I do it. Not a condemnation of the Twizzah, just a curiosity. I still maintain that any minutes it gobbles up in a given day is worth it for the friendships and industry contacts I've made by participating. That said, you won't catch me on the MyFace. I don't trust myself with too many points of entry into the digital playground.

2. The second thing I've noticed is that I don't miss Twitter much. This is probably because I know most other folks aren't on there right now either, so I don't feel left out. That's what makes social networking a bit anxiety-inducing, especially to the young whippersnappers—you don't want to be the one missing something, out of the loop. But today it's like we've all been given silent reading period, everyone with their head down, tackling their assignment for a change. There may be a few people out in the yard playing kickball, but I'm not the only dweeb doing their work. And yes, blogging counts as work, not a Twitter substitute…even if I do have six hundred more words I need to be writing on the work-in-progress.

So, no point here, just thought I'd share those experiences during this, the Great Twitter Blackout of 2010. Can't wait to tell my kids where I was when it happened. Though by then they'll surely have moved on to the next next next next big thing… Better wrap up now. Don't get me waxing philosophical about the Interwebs. Me and philosophical waxings go alarmingly well with too much red wine, and it's still firmly in the a.m.