Hur hur hur. Yes. So now, all those who only ever post about the stupid shit they do every day (because they realise serious online debate is 92% twat) should check themselves for clearly ramping up their shortcomings in the hope of a few more follows. Twitter loves to identify a trend, a topic, or a group, then beat the shit out of it. Identify and condemn is a Twitter sport. Bonus points for being the first to comment or share something, more bonus points for being the first to turn it around and take the piss out of those jumping on the bandwagon, more still for being the first to hashtag 'yawnboredmoveon.' Or find something about it to spawn OUTRAGE so you can tell other people to stop spreading it, of course.
Recently, I missed the initial fuss of the BBC newsreader who had accidentally picked up a block of printer paper instead of his iPad and had to read the news while holding it, a strange and wonderful image of a seriousface journalist determined to see this random stationary situation through to the bitter end. By the time I logged on to Twitter, it was all, ‘STFU about the newsreader already *eyeroll*' Yeah, stupid, boring you for not checking your newsfeed 24/7 and commenting on a story within the minuscule time-frame of acceptability immediately thereafter.
Full disclosure: when royal baby mania was at its height, I posted about the Twitter interest. I meant to convey what I'm talking about now, that it would turn on itself and anyone not turning quick enough would be caught out, but perhaps it actually just indulged in the very practice I'm bemoaning. I'm not sure, it's all a bit Inception, but I'm sorry if it did because it reminds me of music snobbery. The NBT rock and hard place conundrum, popularity equals sellout, and you knew them back when they played a stage small enough for your snakebite sick to splatter the drummer.
I like the transient, fast- flowing, on-the-ball nature of Twitter. I like the sharing of the funny and the thought-provoking and the pictures of food and all of that. And I LIKE telling people what genuinely makes me feel like an absolute plank, because it almost cancels it out. Most of the people I follow use Twitter the same way I do, and we're not all pretending. Yep, there's comedy value in admitting when things ain't rosy, but it's also selfish. I put embarrassment, awkwardness, discomfort, and struggle out there so I'm not tripping up in the street and looking around for someone to laugh it off with. YoucannotlaughatmecosIamlaughingatmyself. Contained humiliation, see?
I'm finding it really, really tough carving out some kind of space here in Beijing. In addition to my general worry that my writing is eyeroll central anyway, there's this new social layer of Beijingers to consider. People who've been here for years and have heard it all before, the same old just-moved-here noob problems. Oh, it's so smoggy your lungs hurt? You don't say. People stare at you all the time? No shit, Sherlock. Hey, you're finding the seemingly complete lack of logic in a number of usually straightforward situations confusing? Join my bitter, bitter club.
My concern probably says more about me than 'laowai' Beijingers as we've encountered so many lovely, helpful, inclusive expats so far. But that's the point, isn't it? And now, on top of this, on top of me feeling like a complete bellend most of the time, on top of having a whole new social group to look like a tit in front of, you're telling me that telling people about it is a fucking snooze-a-thon?
Well fuck you. I'm going to shout into the internet about vagina windows, and getting hit by a car, and having the shits for four weeks straight, and weeing on my own feet (yeah, sadface) because I, and some other people, feel bloody stupid and awkward all the time anyway. Don't point and laugh any more than we invite you to.
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