Tweet Nothings

I am a social network addict. I’m not even kidding. And, I’m pretty sure that I’m not alone in this. I didn’t even realize that I have a problem until about three months ago. I had just returned home with two rented movies and I was all proud of myself because I’d never used one of those kiosk thingies before. As my husband slipped the movie into the player and readied it for our viewing pleasure, he turned to me and said, “You ready?”

“Just one sec,” was my reply, as I hastily tweeted that I was ‘no longer a Redbox virgin’. Considering that I’d wanted to see this movie in the theater and was now putting the start on hold, my husband logically asked me what I had to do that was so important. I told him. The look on his face was the epitome of the word ‘baffled’. “Seriously? You really needed to tweet that?” he asked. “Why on Earth would anyone care about that?” Um, ouch! But, his comment got me thinking. Was I missing something by having my nose buried in a laptop screen every day?

A couple of weeks later, I decided to go cold turkey. No social networks for a week. No Twitter. No Facebook. No GooglePlus. No MySpace. Ok, well, I don’t really do MySpace anymore. Who does really? (Oh, c’mon, be honest!) So, that one wasn’t a sacrifice. But, still. I was confident that it would be no big deal. Plus, I wanted to see how the “unplugged” version of my life was different from the “plugged in” version. How would removing myself from social media affect me?

The plan was to abstain from all social media from Monday morning until the following Sunday night. I asked my husband to change my account passwords and issued strict instructions not to divulge them to me until the said time. Of course, my pragmatic, IT-manager husband pointed out that all I needed to do to recover them was to click the little ‘Did you forget your password?’ link under the account information boxes (thanks, smart aleck). I told him I wanted no easy access to them, at which point he rolled his eyes (he does this a lot) and said, “Yeah, OK.” Humph! It was clear that his faith in my ability to resist this temptation would have made a grain of sand look like a planet. Oh, it was on like Donkey Kong. I cut my eyes at him, daring him to say something more. He simply shook his head and shrugged. With that, the challenge began.

Time flew by, or so it seemed. Immediately I noticed how much easier it was to focus on my school work (yes, I know I shouldn’t have social networks up during school time). A million times easier, in fact. And that left me time for other things. Laundry was folded and put away. Floors were swept and mopped. The bathroom glistened with freshly cleaned porcelain. The counters and kitchen table were cleared of clutter. Appliances were wiped down. Dishes got done directly after the consumption of a hearty, home-cooked meal. Oh, yeah, I cooked! I even called my mother. Things seemed to be going smoothly, and everything was falling into place. It felt great to show my husband that I could indeed do this and to discover that it wasn’t so difficult after all. Oh, the joy, the elation…the gloating rights! I felt compelled to share my celebratory mood with (and brag to) the world. After all, I’d made it, hadn’t I? I’d resisted the temptation for a whole … six hours?! Noooooooo!

It was then that the word ‘addict’ popped into my head, followed immediately by the thought that, Oh eM Gee this week is going to kill me, and then I’ll be dead and my husband will smugly roll his eyes at my coffin. And, oh crap, who would update my status or tweet about my untimely demise?! He wouldn’t, that’s for sure. Unacceptable. My only option was to grit my teeth and wade through the withdrawal.

You know that moment, hours or days after an argument, in which the perfect retort appears in your head and you wish you had a time machine to go back and deliver it, but instead, must live with the fact that this scathing, clever reply is impotent and useless now? Yeah. Now, apply that to all of the clever, cool things that pop into your brain that you update your status with, or tweet for all to see. That was my week. I literally had status updates and tweets flying through my brain and my fingers itched to click on that “forgot password?” link just so I could share these pointless little gems with my adoring (let me have my fantasy people!) public. Next, imagine the loss of all the validation that accompanies said clever, cool remarks from both friends and strangers and sometimes even your mom. I literally had the best. Week. Ever! And, no one would get to LOL with me over something stupid I had done. No one would hash tag me a #highfive for accomplishments I’d achieved. No one would know a thing about the awesomeness of my week. Well, except for my husband…and my mom and dad…and my friends. You know, the people I actually speak to, the people that really matter.

I will confess. I didn’t make it to my self-imposed deadline. I caved around noon on Saturday, earning myself another eye roll from the husband. An addict I remain (yes, I have Twitter up behind this as I write), but I learned two valuable lessons: One, I can survive without social networks, I just don’t want to. And two, no amount of accolades or attention from strangers will ever replace the comfortable and reliable dysfunction of family and friends.

#TheEnd