Today's rantable topic? The interwebs. More specifically social networking and sharing of information.
Here's the thing, my precious, largely imaginary readers, I hate things like Twitter and status-whoring. (Nevermind that I can sometimes be a status whore. It's somewhat off the point for the moment.) You know what I else I hate? Finding out important, personal things from the internet. Not earth-shaking things, though I sometimes find out about global events in that fashion, which is kind of sad, but I no longer have to read the news to pass my class tuesday/thursday morning. But, if you ignore the irrelevant part of that last sentence, you might realize that, hey, those two often go together.
When people are sharing their daily news with the world at large ("Coffee with Dave Smith in an hour. Super excited :)" Guess who doesn't care? Everyone, but me in particular.), it's easy for them to post things that actually matter in the stream of pointlessness. So when you find out that you're brother is engaged via facebook (not me, my brother-in-law), or that someone is dead, or that someone who matters is moving, married, had a baby, or is absurdly pissed off at you without anyone actually communicating with you directly, it gets a little ridiculous.
You know what else happens when you share your life with the internet? Stalking.
Because if you tell people where you are or what you're doing, they know.
I don't begrudge the internet it's convenience. Yes, I like knowing when people who moved across the country had their baby, or that something awesome happened to so and so today, and yes, I like sharing quotes or random things that've happened to me, but you know what? I don't feel the need to tell the internet (and by "the internet" I mostly mean facebook) FIRST. There are the people who can find out about everything on facebook, but the people who matter find out before I've posted a status or written a blog, note, or journal.
And I'm sadly losing motivation again. Leaking out my ears and fingertips was, I believe, how I phrased it last night when I decided I didn't actually feel like writing enough to post anything. So I shall end that awkwardly and abruptly. You're welcome, disappointed, voracious readers who have nothing better to do with their time.
Go do something productive with this unexpected free time. Learn to knit, or read some Dickens, or make brownies, you bums. And then bring me said brownies to munch on while I read some Dickens. By which I mean Cynthia Voight, because though A Tale of Two Cities sits neglected and unread on my crowded and haphazard bookshelf, Elske is nostalgic and sitting two feet away. I already did my productive hours for today. Go do yours.