awkwardly

Friday

You can now follow me on Twitter. But do I want you to?

Grampa Deidzoeb is still having a hard time deciding whether to (A) tell all you damn kids to get off his digital lawn, or (2) hold a party on it so he can sell crap to you.

I've had a webpage on Tripod since 1998, I think. Started using Blogger to update it and eventually set up RSS feeds (you're very welcome, both of you). I'm still posting video mashups and occasional vlogs to Youtube. I can't remember or bring myself to care when I started and stopped posting to MySpace. Some friends convinced me to start on Facebook, and I've been somewhat active there.

As someone who reads a lot and writes a lot, I haven't seen the point of Twitter, so I resisted the hype. Lately I heard an interesting video where a guy recommends marketing your "personal brand" on as many different social media sites as you can. It makes sense, like having ads on different radio and tv stations, instead of running one ad on one station that appeals to you. So I found a Facebook "app" (what we used to call a "program" back when we transcribed them line by line from Compute's Gazette magazine into our Commodore 64s) that lets me enter a line in Facebook and have it post to my status and also to Twitter. So you can now follow @evilbobdayjob there, if that sounds like the kind of thing you'd want to do.

After setting it up that way, it occurred to me that I keep my Facebook junk private because of Melinda's rash of haters over the last few years. I'm not worried that someone would come to our house and attack us, but I worry about armchair pranksters ordering pizzas to our address, or crates full of dildos or who knows what. So now I can log into Facebook, which I keep somewhat private, and post something that will be displayed for anyone to see via Twitter where I use my real name.

Then I come back here to post about it. Hmmm. Are you someone who reads my blog on Awkwardly, or watches my videos on YouTube, or friends me on Facebook, or follows me on Twitter? It'll be there just in case you want it. There's plenty of me to go around.

* Among the various things that annoy me about the name and concept of "apps," one is that they are usually designed for some limited purpose for use within some particular website's software, or on some portable device that I can't afford. It reminds me of one of those redundant household devices that duplicates a function you can already do with your common appliances, but this thing has the advantage of being specialized (limited in the ways you can use it) and relieving you of that excess money you have. The worst offender is the revolving pizza oven, a little turntable that spins under a heating element to cook pizza. Or if you can't be bothered to leave a big crockpot on low heat on the stove for several hours, why not buy a new and separate device with its own heating element, specially designed to cook foods slowly? Yeah, "apps" remind me of that, only they clutter up facebook and iphones instead of kitchen counters or basements.

1 Comments:

  • At 9:06 AM , Blogger Robert T. Northrup said...

    So it's another re-orientation. With so many options for different ways to communicate, different styles and formats, which one is best, and what makes me post to one sometimes and others at other times? Mostly gut reaction at this point.

    I imagine my blog as having an audience and able to take the tone I used to have in zines, talking any subject, any radical politics or candid real life descriptions. Probably because I don't know enough about the people who read this blog to form a picture of them, and I don't get much feedback, so just like with zines, I felt comfortable posting anything without imagining a negative response.

    On Facebook, it's mostly people I met first in real life, so I'm more restrained there. And then there are forums where I know a small group of people who are likely to respond, and don't much care who else reads it there.

    Weird. Still learning how to use the internet. Who took off my training wheels, dammit?

     

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