Before I begin, I want to say that this post is not directed at anyone in particular. It really is just a delayed response to a tweet that I read from a couple of weeks ago. One which really annoyed me. But I let it marinate, figuring after a while, I would forget about it. And I didn’t. So, it’s done marinating. It’s time to hit the coals.
I’m not a social climber. Never have been. Not in real life, or in the blogosphere. Yet, I watch it happening. In both parts of my world. Climbing to get ahead. It’s a part of life. One that has always repulsed and disgusted me. People become friends with people to get ahead. Bloggers attaching themselves to bloggers, so they can try to get ahead. It’s part of the whole Lemming phenomenon that I’m so against.
I saw a tweet a few weeks ago. It read something along the lines of a warning, letting us little bloggers know that the bigger bloggers can smell us out when we try to social climb. It was such a bitchy, arrogant tweet. I actually had responded and then deleted it. Because I wasn’t going little myself to someone who thought herself to be a better than. Besides, that tweet wasn’t @ me. And my response was so nasty. I didn’t ever want people to think of me the same way I think of that woman who posted that tweet. Simple enough.
I’ve never been part of a gaggle. I’ve always had a few very close and dear friends. That’s how I roll with my blog friends too. Mwah…love you! But, I have the capacity for more friendships. I’m not cliquey. Why not have horizons that are expanding and expansive. Room for everyone. Plenty of good karma, comments and tweets. I’m all about sharing my silliness. And love hearing yours.
If I respond to a tweet. Or if I leave a comment on a blog. It’s not because I am trying to get ahead, in any way. If I’m going to get ahead, it’s going to be all me and my shit, baby. Not because I’m leaving comments with the so called, right people. Quite frankly, I barely even know who the right people are, anyway. I live in a box. What can I say. I’m self-involved like that. Listen, I have 5 kids and tons of laundry. It’s hard enough keeping the names of the kids that live with me straight. How the heck am I supposed to know which bloggers ego I’m supposed to be stroking.
I’m so sick of responding to tweets that touch me in some way, whether it be funny or emotional. To people who are allegedly, following me. To get no response.
That’s fine. You don’t need to answer. We don’t have to be friends. I was just trying to comment or give support or…whatever. I wasn’t back@chyaing you to step on your head to get to the next big thang. That’s not me. Rest assured. But just know, it’s optional. We are not obligated to follow each other.
You may not like, or agree with, or find me to be humorous. I’m plenty OK with that. But don’t ever. EVER. Think that I’m using my 140 characters on the ubiquitous and proverbial you, to gain popularity.
Quite frankly, this homie don’t play that way.
I’m too busy trying to walk a straight line without tripping and spraining my ankles. I shudder at the thought of climbing a ladder.