There’s almost nothing more annoying than people who are a little older than the median age complaining about using computers or social media. They sound a bit like Grandpa Simpson (“I’m coooold!”) and the joke has grown stale.
So of course, let me add to it, as I was born when Dwight David Eisenhower was still president. Don’t remember him much.
Facebook was a big climb up the ladder for me, and I’ve learned to enjoy it, and that was the extent of my Internets experience until Linda asked me to write something occasionally for “It All Started With Paint.” As her followers know, she works on it a lot, and well. I’d like to think she asked me to contribute because I’m a brilliant writer, but I know in my heart of hearts it’s because sometimes she’d sometimes rather just sit and watch the television machine. Understood.
Then last week many of us at work were assigned to use social media to communicate messages about an event we were hosting. I think it all worked well. I say “I think,” because I sent out stuff and I have no idea if anyone caught any of it. I used Twitter! Heady stuff!
But the funny part was that the organizers of this exercise made it seem like we would be locked away in a room all day, sequestered if you will, until we did our job. Bring all your stuff! It was as if we were going up into the mountains for months or were headed into the Biosphere, cut off from all other civilization. I was ten steps from my regular office and the men’s room. The room wasn’t even locked! We could come and go as we pleased and we did.
So I brought pictures of my kids into the room in case I never returned and in the future someone could see who I was and who I loved. I include a photo of my little work station, and no, those are not my long eyelashes. Really.
P.S. Don’t forget about the pillow link party tomorrow. We go live at 6 AM CST …