I’m a big fan of social media, but I must say, some of what’s out there seems like a bunch of meaningless malarkey. Do I really want to hear about people’s delayed flights or whether or not they enjoyed their burrito? Not really. Not unless I’m the one picking them up at the airport or making their food. And in that case, while what’s being shared is critical information, I’d prefer to receive it more privately.
On the other hand, I’ve had some really positive experiences in the virtual world. There are a few tweets that I really enjoy reading, and I’ve had some poignant, funny moments on Facebook, like when one of my old pals posted our painfully hilarious prom photo. In these cases, the postings were meaningful and fun, and the public, group forum felt appropriate.
In a nutshell, I don’t feel that social media is either good or bad in and of itself; it’s how we use it that counts. For some people, it helps them to feel connected. By sharing their opinions and ongoing comings and goings, they feel less alone. On the flip side, other people use virtual communication as a way to replace real human interaction. I’m not just talking about folks who are socially shy. I myself have been guilty of emailing someone when I didn’t feel like calling or texting an excuse of why I couldn’t stop by.
More and more, when using social media, I’m trying to employ what the Buddhists call “mindful speech.” Before just typing and blasting out whatever comes to mind, I’m training myself to stop and think about what and how I’m communicating in that moment. Also, since I want to be thoughtful of my audience and their needs, I’m trying to be more strategic in how often I send out postings and to whom. While some people in my address book love being constantly connected to their electronic “toys,” others resent being bombarded with emails or tweets all day long. As a general rule of thumb, I’m trying my best to ensure that my messages are ones that folks will look forward to reading, not cringe as they hit “delete.”
© 2010 by Laurie Gardner