Social Media Party
Last night, I invented a new dish, a fusion of Mexican arroz amarillo and South Asian kichidi that I dubbed “Mexican Kichidi.” It was delicious, and while cooking it I had excited plans to photograph my culinary creation and post my new brainchild. But when the cooking was over and the time came, I decided: screw it, I’d rather just sit and eat this. Who cares, after all, except my husband and me, and maybe the people I might make this for in the future? And they can find out about it then.
The above has always been my feeling about social media (and microblogging). Why would anybody care? I never saw the point of Twitter, for instance, unless one had a blog, or some other fount of creation (I won’t call it “content”), and one wanted to share their new creations with interested people in the world. Or even share other people’s interesting creations. And the kind of more personal stuff people often share on Facebook and equivalents (pictures of food, pictures of kids or pets…) — I do that too, but with my real-life, in-person friends: people who might actually care, because they know me. They know my context.
Pundits sometimes deride social media as “performative,” but that’s not my issue. I have no problem “performing”— the reason I have so many blogs is to separate the various aspects of myself that I want to “perform” in public. My issue, I realized, is that social media is to a large degree small talk. And I hate small talk. I’ve never been good at it, I have trouble initiating it. I’ve gotten better at following through, but my gawd, it’s work.
Coming to a new social media platform is like going to a big party where you don’t know anyone. Small talk is the medium by which you meet people in such a space, and so small talk, at first, is what I (try to) make. Some (most) people at a party like to chit chat to all kinds of new people, never staying with anyone for very long. It’s rude to monopolize their attention and time. I get that.
But I really just want to find someone (a few someones) to converse with. Someone whose context I click with, or who clicks with my context. Hopefully both. And the few of us can stand in a corner and nerd out on the things we’re nerdy about to our heart’s content. Things our real-llfe friends may not find as interesting as we do (that’s why I came to this shindig in the first place, after all). We can share our long-form, short-form, medium-form posts with each other, knowing that those we share with may actually click, may actually read. And sometimes, at least, respond. Other people at the party will wander over, maybe join in the conversation for a bit until they’re bored, then wander off again. It’s fine.
Will I find my peeps at this party? Or will I just stand alone by the hors d'oeuvre table, munching on the mini-samosas, talking to myself? Dunno. I guess I’ll find out.