I am a nimtwit. Periodically, I post outrageous thoughts that a reserved person should never say out loud, let alone write into public storage on the web. But I don’t know any better. Or maybe I do. But how does that explain the phenomenon of sharing your life with total strangers and shit. I used to think posting on Twitter and Facebook were akin to writing on the bathroom stall. Say something funny about something in the moment, yamean. But from the people I follow, celebrity, verified, or not, I see that people put all facets of their life on display. There was once a time when you wouldn’t know about your acquaintances personal lives and you could pretty much start a rumor or gossip about them without any worry that the truth would come out. Now you can meet a person one time and feel like you’ve known them forever because you vicariously monitor their second life from posts and RTs. Now you can start a rumor or just say something passive aggressive on your wall for your mutual friends to see. And that is the issue I’m having with my online identity. In an ancient time, when cell phones were reserved for high school grads only, if you met a cool girl at a party and didn’t get the number, that’s it. Now, who gives a fuck about a phone number. Tell your people to tag my people. I’ve literally used this line to close a convo with some pretty girl recently. And she didn’t even have to ask 😉

I am nearing my 10,000 tweet on twitter. When I created the account, I thought I’d keep it a week. When I wasn’t working, I spent more time than I wanted or should have trolling the timeline, looking for things to comment on. And that’s all you can do in the end. Comment. Your two cents must be composed in 140 characters or less. But its just a comment. While online social sites are great ways to learn news, few journalists are actually breaking news on their profile pages. They have bosses and TV executives names signed on their paychecks. But everyone is online. Your grandma is on Facebook. Your 16 year old sister is posting images of her thong on Twitter. And I’m calling people I’ve met one time derogatory names because I’ve got nothing better to do than come up with something witty or offensive for the internet lunchroom crowd.

I regressed. I think of all of the time I wasted typing characters and posting pics to stunt in front of my acquaintances and the friends of friends who will never really be a friend of mine. I think of all of the derogatory and sexist shit I posted on the internet and I wonder why the fuck would I even keep this blog, and I don’t know. I guess because I have already added so much to the public storage box, I can’t hide from it. Old acquaintances may be forgot, but my posts live forever. They know I dissed their CD. I feel like I’m going to say the wrong shit one time and have to go into the witness protection program and come out with a different name and social or something. You could back track some shit you said back in the day. Now, you can’t run and hide from your ruckus stirred. They took a screenshot before you deleted 😦

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. The social sites are just high school lunch rooms. The internet is just W.ho W.hat W.hen. And in my second life, I am a nimtwit, with nothing productive to say because in my first life, I’m doing nothing productive currently.

10,000 tweets and I’m out.
Until then, follow me @RyanMega

Ryan Mega


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