I’ve been struggling through the front page story in Sunday’s New York Times Magazine. Exposed was written by Emily Gould, who used to write for Gawker, a New York City- centric gossip blog. Emily became well-known for publishing TMI. Not just about celebrities and mover-shaker types, but about herself. Too Much Information.
I’m struggling through it because I just want to stop and say, “Duh! Where was your common sense? Where was your respect for your friends, your family, yourself?”
Then I remember that there are people who think I also share TMI.
Obviously we all have different levels of comfort as far as the pieces of ourselves that we will share online. For most that level is close to zero. Nearly everyone will share a photo in a private email, but suggest that they put it on Flickr to share with strangers and the response is often “Why would I do that?” More and more are willing to enter the closed circle that is FaceBook, but suggest that they start a blog or join Twitter and give people they don’t know access to their thoughts, the reactions are typically “I like to keep my private life private,” “Where would I find the time?” or “Who would care?”
The first response is valid and I understand and respect it. I certainly don’t share the intimate details of my life online. I might tweet about work I’m doing, or something funny about one of my kids, but I keep it light and not too detailed. In fact when someone on Twitter starts to get too personal, it makes me squirm a bit. I’ve mentioned my kids’ names and my husband’s name here and there, but in general, and as a rule recently, I refer to them by nicknames. The husband is Mr. B. The boys are son1, son2, & son3 (short and sweet because of the 140 character limit in Twitter!) I know that anyone who made the effort could figure out their real names, but I also know that anyone Googling any one of them would likely find tweets or blog posts I write using their real names at the top of the results, which I think is at least vaguely unfair. To keep that to a minimum, I use the pseudonyms.
As far as time, that’s a biggie, I know. I rarely watch TV, the Internet is my main form of entertainment, so that’s how I find the time. Another valid reason, I agree.
They Do Care
So on to the third response, “Who would care?” I’m honestly not sure why people care. I’ll leave that to those with more knowledge of psychology and sociology to figure out. But the truth is, people do care. Complete strangers. Care.
People like to see the world through other people’s eyes. The fact that reality TV has almost replaced the sitcom is strong evidence of that. They also like to discover shared experiences. We read the blogs of people we relate to. We follow on Twitter those we find some kind of commonality with. For me, it could be that I have only one single thing in common with someone. Maybe it’s that we’re both from New Jersey, that we’re both moms, that we share a sense of humor or an annoyance when trying to get CSS to work properly in Internet Explorer, but that one single thing will somehow shine through on Twitter, and through video on Seesmic or Phreadz even more. Some of my favorite tweeters sit on the other side of the political aisle from me, and some of my favorite Seesmicers sit on the other side of the Atlantic. We discover that our differences mean nothing when we share a laugh or experience.
Bill Cammack wrote today about Fame, Popularity, and Star Power, an update of an earlier post he wrote on the same topic. I don’t know much about the Star Power, personally, but on the other topics he writes,
Fame = a lot of people have heard of you (clearly relative… “a lotâ€)
Popularity = a lot of people LIKE something about you
Fame and Popularity on the Internet are funny things. Emily Gould found Fame, but to find that fame, and with that fame, she lost parts of herself. Bill Cammack, and myself to a lesser (and relative) extent, have found popularity, “a lot of people LIKE something about” us. We’ve gained friendships and developed relationships by being ourselves online, but also by being intelligent about what we share, and how we share it.
TMI? It’s a line that can be crossed. But putting pieces of yourself on the Internet, allowing complete strangers to see that which you may just have in common, can open a door to relationships and connections that maybe you never knew you were missing- until you realize you don’t know how you lived without them.
Very well said! Sometimes late at night I find myself staring at my laptop screen and reading twitter. Somehow reading complete strangers’ thoughts and conversations gives me the kind of peace I needed after a day’s hard work.
patty hartwell
Way to go banannie – love this post.
I found myself thinking just today about how my world has just exploded in the last year since I began to share more of myself online. Your post makes me so thankful that I have. If you don’t take risks, you just don’t grow, let alone find connections you never knew you were missing.
http://bluegrassmama.com Bluegrass Mama
I think everyone needs to find their own privacy comfort level. But somehow I never realized that we use the same “nom de blog” for our husbands!
http://billcammack.com Bill Cammack
Not only is there TMI… There’s information that’s not ours to give out. There’s a line that needs to be drawn between our personal actions & interactions and those of the people we interacted WITH.
As you mentioned, there are levels of comfort. We can’t assume that our level is the same as someone else’s… Especially someone who isn’t currently posting about their lives to the net.
The trick is to find the balance where we can feel self-expressed and the people around us feel that we have their best interests at heart and respect their privacy.
http://www.lynetteradio.com Lynette
GREAT POST! My rule is never to publish anything online that I would not say to someone’s face, or to a stadium full of strangers. Both are my potential readers.
Too Much Information
I’ve been struggling through the front page story in Sunday’s New York Times Magazine. Exposed was written by
Emily Gould, who used to write for Gawker, a New York City- centric gossip blog. Emily became well-known for publishing TMI. Not just about celebrities and mover-shaker types, but about herself. Too Much Information.
I’m struggling through it because I just want to stop and say, “Duh! Where was your common sense? Where was your respect for your friends, your family, yourself?”
Then I remember that there are people who think I also share TMI.
Obviously we all have different levels of comfort as far as the pieces of ourselves that we will share online. For most that level is close to zero. Nearly everyone will share a photo in a private email, but suggest that they put it on Flickr to share with strangers and the response is often “Why would I do that?” More and more are willing to enter the closed circle that is FaceBook, but suggest that they start a blog or join Twitter and give people they don’t know access to their thoughts, the reactions are typically “I like to keep my private life private,” “Where would I find the time?” or “Who would care?”
The first response is valid and I understand and respect it. I certainly don’t share the intimate details of my life online. I might tweet about work I’m doing, or something funny about one of my kids, but I keep it light and not too detailed. In fact when someone on Twitter starts to get too personal, it makes me squirm a bit. I’ve mentioned my kids’ names and my husband’s name here and there, but in general, and as a rule recently, I refer to them by nicknames. The husband is Mr. B. The boys are son1, son2, & son3 (short and sweet because of the 140 character limit in Twitter!) I know that anyone who made the effort could figure out their real names, but I also know that anyone Googling any one of them would likely find tweets or blog posts I write using their real names at the top of the results, which I think is at least vaguely unfair. To keep that to a minimum, I use the pseudonyms.
As far as time, that’s a biggie, I know. I rarely watch TV, the Internet is my main form of entertainment, so that’s how I find the time. Another valid reason, I agree.
They Do Care
So on to the third response, “Who would care?” I’m honestly not sure why people care. I’ll leave that to those with more knowledge of psychology and sociology to figure out. But the truth is, people do care. Complete strangers. Care.
People like to see the world through other people’s eyes. The fact that reality TV has almost replaced the sitcom is strong evidence of that. They also like to discover shared experiences. We read the blogs of people we relate to. We follow on Twitter those we find some kind of commonality with. For me, it could be that I have only one single thing in common with someone. Maybe it’s that we’re both from New Jersey, that we’re both moms, that we share a sense of humor or an annoyance when trying to get CSS to work properly in Internet Explorer, but that one single thing will somehow shine through on Twitter, and through video on Seesmic or Phreadz even more. Some of my favorite tweeters sit on the other side of the political aisle from me, and some of my favorite Seesmicers sit on the other side of the Atlantic.
We discover that our differences mean nothing when we share a laugh or experience.
Bill Cammack wrote today about Fame, Popularity, and Star Power, an update of an earlier post he wrote on the same topic. I don’t know much about the Star Power, personally, but on the other topics he writes,
Fame and Popularity on the Internet are funny things. Emily Gould found Fame, but to find that fame, and with that fame, she lost parts of herself. Bill Cammack, and myself to a lesser (and relative) extent, have found popularity, “a lot of people LIKE something about” us. We’ve gained friendships and developed relationships by being ourselves online, but also by being intelligent about what we share, and how we share it.
TMI? It’s a line that can be crossed. But putting pieces of yourself on the Internet, allowing complete strangers to see that which you may just have in common, can open a door to relationships and connections that maybe you never knew you were missing- until you realize you don’t know how you lived without them.