Who cares?

My grandmother, this weekend, in what I think was a move to demonstrate her savviness with what the kids are up to these days, made a quip about Twitter.

"Twitter is a site for people who believe the world cares about their every move," I said crabbily. I still stand by that assessment.

I have no problem with social networking. I have a book for my face, a space to call mine, and a couple other sites I belong to. And yes, I blog, the ultimate narcissism--I actually believe I have something to say with an audience to pay attention to me. But I really don't believe you care what I had for lunch, who I hobnobbed with, what my kitty cat did just now, and who I'm giving shout-outs to. Seriously.

It's a bizarre mish-mash of the mundane and social posturing, from what I've observed on a few acquaintances' Twitter pages. The mundane is just, as my post title indicates, a matter of "Who cares?" The shouting out and such is akin to those folks who friend every person they ever met gazes with simply for the purpose of showing off how many "friends" they have. In the case of the former, a bit of nondisclosure can go a long way (you just had your first bowel movement in a week? That's, um, congratulations...?). And in the case of the latter, well, I just don't see the value of determining my worth by how many people I've rubbed elbows with. I'd like to think I have some innate value in my own individuality, not something accumulated by sheer chance and contingent upon how many people I've run into ("OMG i think i just drove by bill gates lol").

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