Julia Stiles’ post about Twittering in a forest struck a nerve.
People need to have a record of their experience to validate it, to remember it, to understand it. Why else did we start writing? That’s all the more exaggerated now in this hyperactive age of constant reportage; Twitter, Facebook, three million “news” stations each with incessant tickers and four screens. Everyone seems to want a record of even the most mundane occurrences. “I wish I had a tissue” “I’m talking to my Dad!” “I can’t get my hair to stay still!” “I missed my train!” “I’m taking a dump!”
I love connecting to my PLN with Twitter/Facebook and reading their blog posts (although nothing beats being with them at a conference). The amazing Elizabeth Abarbanel wrote a post about her PLN (linking to this from David Warlick). So… where does that leave me?
Conflicted. Putting myself “out there” professionally feels right, but sharing innermost thoughts this publicly feels increasingly wrong. Of course, there’s the permanence factor – all those old posts are cached somewhere. I guess I’ll just have to live with that.