Pawnee Rangers.


Yesterday was one of those days where I started (again) despairing over constant teenaged-style whinging and moaning on social media, combined with childish proclamations, supposed ‘inspirational’ quotes over photos of Lego models and bear cubs, and just general non-adult behaviour from supposed grown-ups. The first bit, of which I am definitely occasionally guilty (though mine tend more towards the bitching-about-work tweet variety), reminds me of teenagers who write bad poetry and/or, like me, tag along with their older siblings to Cafe Wim and decide that feigning boredom or ennui makes them seem more interesting. It really doesn’t. 15-year-olds don’t know anything.

Of course, then I spent a huge chunk of time grossing myself out by looking for clips of ‘Embarrassing Bodies‘ on YouTube and was delighted to find out there was an Angry Birds Seasons update available.

Are we being infantilised by the internet? Possibly. Of course, although my parents were very grown-up, they also had drunken Euchre weekends at the cottage where they’d buy out Calabogie of all its Blood Caesar elements, so I can’t be sure that all adults are a bit immature, at least sometimes.

But I think the internet, and hiding behind our computer/phone screens is just preventing us from solving problems, or at the very least addressing them, in meaningful ways rather too often, and anyone with neurotic tendencies is at risk. Dr Google can tell you want you want to hear, justify your poor decisions, and keep you going in the probable wrong direction even more detrimentally than a friend offering advice. Internet enabling by strangers via Twitter is pretty weird, but I don’t think it’s uncommon.

Part of why I bring this up now is because, while I will continue to blog here every day, I’m taking a step back from Twitter and Facebook. Not avoiding it completely, just being a bit more thoughtful about posting instead using it as a ‘look at me! I’m still here even though I’ve been quiet for 15 minutes!’ check-in mechanism. Some days, I post a lot. A stupid amount rather too often. And yet? I am rolling my eyes at how often other people post, which is pretty hypocritical (but seriously, don’t retweet every single thing that comes up on your 300+ person/business feed GAWD).

This might also have to do with a breach of etiquette yesterday, when I compared the situations created by many people using of cinema’s former payphone to ‘The Wire’ (which, to be fair, is not untrue, just exaggerated), a thought I sent to a not-on-duty CBC host, who then retweeted it to her (many) followers. Oops. That was a pretty bad moment professionally, and definitely not good for neighbourhood morale, especially when a lot of people have written Rideau Street off as ‘unfixable’.

(BTW, to all the folks who think all the homeless shelters should be closed/shut down, where should they go? Seriously, I want to know. Suburbia, where you (might) live and they have no transportation options? Jail? What?)

Even worse, that incident happened AFTER I saw this website (thanks, Richard!). ‘We know what you’re doing’ culls folks public social media feeds to expose their lack of forethought over who might be reading them. It’s fascinating and terrible and a bit of a wake-up call, frankly, even though I’m generally pretty careful.

If I’m lonely, I’ll talk to an actual person. Or make plans too, possibly even via social media. I’m not going full Nick Offerman here, but there are better ways to spend my time more often that I was previously willing to admit. Speaking of which, I should get on my bike and get my proper day started.

A bit worried (not really) that by cutting down/out my women-in-comedy thing, I jinxed the universe, because the world lost one of its best and most successful female screenwriters yesterday. I won’t go on about Nora Ephron much, because so many others have in more eloquent/knowing ways than I have, but here is a clip I love, and not just because I’m a (not very) bitter, single person, but because it is clever, and angry, and funny, and real. RIP, Ms Ephron.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.