Preface: While this post began as an evaluation of my personal use of social media, it took a weird turn (complete with GPS announcing it was “recalculating”) and ended up becoming a cathartic self reflection and for that I apologize to anyone feeling duped by the title. But not so much because you totally brought it upon yourself to kill a few brain cells by reading it in the first place.
I’ve never claimed to be the guru of all things social media and I thank my lucky stars each day that Tumblr’s platform allows my Neanderthal-esque brain to (arguably) successfully post these posts ever so often. However, I at least try to keep up with the times, though I’ll admit that’s more out of a strong aversion to ever feeling ‘left out’, but that’s a whole other session’s worth of fun and I simply can’t afford the copay right now.
Take Twitter for instance. Do I tweet with authority? No. Do I tweet strategically? Not a chance. Do I ever tweet messages that contain any value whatsoever? Absolutely not. But I do pride myself on the fact that I don’t call it “The Twitter” like my grandmother whose immigrant grasp of the English language requires articles before any noun.
So what do I do with my Twitter account? I follow my favorite comedians and writers, read their tweet-ersations and giggle to myself. But lately it’s been causing some pretty powerful self-evaluation. I always think of how 90 percent of my cleverest comments are wasted in my own head or occasionally on the poor souls that interact with me on gchat each day. And, in the spirit of all things modest, I think of some pretty gosh darn clever shit!
Recently, on a particularly pathetic evening I stumbled upon an episode of Jimmy Fallon’s late night talk show. I say stumbled because there is no way I’d ever check the channel guide and turn his show on. If it was a choice between Ice Road Truckers 2: Raw and Without 4-Wheel Drive (admittedly fictional but dare I say, potential ratings GOLD…), the short-skirted and short-lived reboot of Charlie’s Angels and Jimmy Fallon’s late night show, I’d choose making shadow puppets with myself. Don’t get me wrong, I have all the respect and appreciation in the world for him as a truly talented comic but there’s no dancing around the fact that his show is about as entertaining as repeats of my fifth grade orchestra concert on public access television.
That evening’s guests were Seth Meyers and his slightly less funny but significantly more attractive brother Josh. I’d insert a joke involving lewd acts between myself and the brothers but we all know I’m too
classy prudish to spend my time crafting such a sentence. Plus, I’m in the middle of a story and god forbid I digress during a blog post. And would you look at that? Now I’ve lost my thought.
So I’m watching the Meyers play a familial version of The Newlywed Game and Josh is making fun of Seth for walking down the street, completely oblivious to all that is around him, because his brain is constantly churning out new jokes and witty verbalisms 24/7. It was then that I realized, aside from a Y chromosome, the only difference between me and Seth Meyers is that I’m wasting my best lines, primarily crafted while walking or sleeping, on the wrong audience. Instead of making only myself chuckle and then forgetting the idea completely, I could be writing it down somewhere public where it could be seen, admired and then translated into a job writing for Saturday Night Live. If only such a public forum existed, I thought to myself, but then that’s about as far as I got in my plan before Questlove’s hair caught my attention and distracted me from the brilliance rattling in my noggin’.
I have yet to think of an appropriate destination for my profound crafting but figured I’d blog about the journey instead. Now where can I find a blank palette, an open space for funny, preferably in an easy-to-use, html-free platform?????
Sometimes I think I’m just too sharp for my own good.
Photo cred to The Zebu