Well You Can Call Me "Butterfly"

Geez, am I ever bewildered by social networking. Way back when MySpace made its splash on the social computer scene, I figured it was for kids, or the terminally lonely. But then Facebook stepped up and everyone I knew couldn’t believe I didn’t have my own page. “At the very least,” they said, “people who know you can find you and keep track of you.” I didn’t bother pointing out some very good reasons why people who knew me couldn’t keep track of me at the present moment.

So I gave in, and then the friends came. You see, within Facebook, I can be friends with people so now I belong to an intricately interwoven subgroup of the Facebook community. And I’m not only friends with people I know of, but barely know, I’m friends with people who are also friends of these people I barely know. Oh yeah, I get around.

But Facebook, as it turned out, was only the beginning. Our National Writing Project site has a Leadership Ning, and of course I belong, and yes, I have friends there too. In fact, I can’t email another member through our Ning unless we’re friends. And then, I had to create a “network” within our Ning for those of us who work together on a special project.

Our E Anthology team formed a Ning for our book study, and yes, I had to create more friends. And read discussion comments. And blogs.

Then a friend invited me to join the English Companion Ning, which is technically for teachers of English, of which I am not, technically, and which I will never be, actually. But I do hope, one day, to teach writing at the college level, so I joined. And now I have friends there, although I actually know all three of those people. And there is a group within the Ning for National Writing Project people and if I could figure out how to join it I would but I don’t know why. As it is, I can’t keep up with Facebook and the Nings to which I belong. I can’t possibly read the zillions of comments flying around my cyber living room. I can’t follow the lives of all the friends in my cyber neighborhood. And yet I can’t stop myself.

Today I was invited to join the National Writing Project Ning for site leaders. And I did. And I made a friend. And I actually know this person. And she’s formed a group.

And for some insane reason, I signed up for Twitter, which is a real time social network. Twitter was created so people could know when other people scratch themselves, have a lustful thought, or stand in line at Walmart, which could potentially happen all at once. People can sign up to follow other people’s twitters so they never miss a riveting message like those above. And I have never, ever sent a twitter, I mean, does anyone want to know I’m folding my laundry? Really? And you want to know the weirdest part?

I have one follower.