If I Delete My Twitter Account Do I Exist Anymore?

 I was finishing my latest blog post, getting ready to send it forth into the world when I was seized by momentary panic. Checking the little icons at the bottom of the page I suddenly remembered I had deleted my Twitter account after Elon Musk acquired Twitter and tweeted about getting rid of employees who weren't hard core enough to work 24/7 to make him wealthy by sleeping in their offices and working until they dropped.  

How would my 10 followers know about my latest post? 

My brain seized until I got a grip on my synapses.  It's not like I ever figured out what the purpose of Twitter is or how to make it work for me.   I'm not an "Influencer" or a celebrity willing to post all the inanities of my life or pictures of myself taking pictures of myself in the bathroom mirror in my underwear.  I'm not a politician putting out policy statements or, on the other had,  calling rivals names.

As you might guess, I'm not a heavy user of social media. Yes, I still have a Facebook account, even though I know it tracks how I use it, to see pictures of my friend's salads and their grandchildren. I am vaguely aware of TikTok but I've never used it.  I know what Instagram is (but I am careful of it. See comment above re: FB.) I sort of understand Reddit (maybe).

  LinkedIn is my go-to because I understand business networking and it seems like it's for grown ups. And yet  I still had the urge to reinstate my Twitter account even though I don't use it for anything other than announcing my blog posts. What's up with that?

My almost visceral reaction to not having a Twitter account says I am as much a victim of  the insidious, addictive nature of the social media platforms as any young teenager.  If I want to put off practicing guitar or writing all I have to do is log in to Facebook and bam! 20 minutes lost.

I know it's possible to resist the lure of being drawn in. I've watched how my Millennials treat these programs as just one more set of business tools to promote their work. They log in, say what they have to say, log out, and go back out to the real world. My son can go months without posting anything so I have to text him to tell him I've posted something. My husband is my son's father. He doesn't post so much as lurk. In fact, when his high school reunion was being planned all the postings came to me. 

And here's my suspicion: the female brain is more susceptible to becoming addicted to social media because of the way we've been socialized.  Most women and girls are socialized to want to be liked. The algorithims are deliberately designed to  feed on that desire. Getting a reaction, seeing a comment or an icon is a form of being liked and having a connection.  We get a little hit of a chemical that makes us happy. 

None of what I'm saying is new and earthshaking.  Frances Haugen blew the lid off long ago. Studies abound about how damaging to the physical brain social media is and how it is rewiring young brains. 

But it's one thing to read about it, to know it on the intellectual level, and another to personally experience it.  Think I'm making too big a deal about this? Then I challenge you to do what I did. Delete your Twitter, your Instagram, your TikTok or whatever else you use and see what happens to you. 

Let me know.

 

How to handle defeat: Lesson from a Gen Z

 

 His expression is stoic. He's ignoring the shouts and the screams of fans and the clicking of shutters and the intrusion of a boom mic over his head as he waits in the tunnel. 

He's just endured a frustrating day at the office on national TV and no one could blame him if he just walked up the ramp and threw his helmet at the wall. After all, we've all watched baseball players, football players behave like toddlers in the dugout and on the sidelines when they're frustrated.  Tennis players throw their racquets and shout at referees. Soccer players call the officials names when calls don't go their way. We sort of expect it. It makes for good television, after all.

  Instead Trevor Lawrence stands in the tunnel; tired, disappointed, dirty and cold and greets his teammates and support staff as they trudge into the tunnel after losing their divisional championship game to the Kansas City Chiefs.  He reaches out to shake hands, to hug those that need it, to say a few whispered private words in a very public place. He acknowledges the disappointment and the feelings that their best effort wasn't good enough. Only after the last one straggles past does he turn to go. 

What is so remarkable about this scene? Trevor Lawrence is only 24 years old.  

Would you have done as well? Follow the link below.

 https://twitter.com/espn/status/1616964915960373248

https://twitter.com/espn/status/1616964915960373248?s=20&t=VeK3AnnXE3URCdYz_-d70w

https://twitter.com/espn/status/1616964915960373248?s=20&t=VeK3AnnXE3URCdYz_-d70w

 

 

 

 

Deja vu all over again

 

 

 

 

 

Does anybody else think we just experienced a 24 month year? It seems to me 2021 and 2022 got smooshed all together. Are we in some kind of jokey feedback loop?

 

My journal has the same entries over and over. It’s Ground Hog Day all over again where Bill Murray experiences the same day over and over until he gets it right.

 

In 2021 one of us was sick at New Years. In 2022 it was Thanksgiving and Christmas.

 

In 2021-22 the mainstream news was awful, the fringe news services worse. The weather was awful and was the year of too much. It was either too much fire, too much snow or too much rain. The government wasn’t governing. There was war, there were refugees, people were sick and tired of being sick and tired. Guns seemed to be the method of choice to settle arguments.

 

2021-22 was the year of complaining and dissatisfaction, too. Everything was expensive.  Gas was expensive, food was expensive, all the stuff we want to buy (but don’t need) was expensive. Who can we blame?

 

My writing stalled, my desk is still a mess. I didn’t clean my closet, even my weight hit a plateau and stayed there week after week.

 

I swore off social media and then went back to it. I spent too much time escaping into streaming pointless television shows (where no one watches television, by the way). At the same time I read articles about how detrimental too much screen time can be to my brain. Can you say cognitive dissonance?

 

All this push-me pull-you has made me tired as 2023 starts. What do we need to learn so we can move forward? I don’t want to have a 2021-22-23. How do we make it to the other side?

 

Short of an asteroid hitting us a la Don’t Look Up (currently running on Netflix) that is.