shep, but online

Recently I’ve been trying to rethink how I use social media, specifically Twitter. This all started when the news broke that Musk was trying to buy Twitter. I did not want to be a part of that platform if he takes over. Then I started asking myself, do I want to be part of it at all? Don’t get me wrong, I love Twitter, but I also realize that Twitter is also bad for me.

Just like a lot of people, I fell victim to the constant retweets, likes, shares, and outrage that Twitter has become. I know Twitter is what you make of it, so I tried to unfollow some people and organizations, did less retweeting, and tried to stay off it more, but Twitter is now built for that constant churn of hate and anger. Even when I unfollowed political news, the tweets would still show up from people I follow, trending topics, or suggested Tweets (I’ve yet to find a way to hide those completely). It also became the primary avenue for getting customer support from brands, which sounds great until all you do or see is complaints about every company. That’s when I decided to return to Micro.blog.

The way I’m using Micro.blog is essentially how I started with Twitter. I find interesting people to follow and I post random thoughts I have throughout the day. Since this is more of a blog than a social network, I try to limit what I post. Not everything needs to be said. That’s something I forgot on Twitter. The community on Micro.blog has been great. I do wish there was an easier way to find people located near me though. One of the best features of Twitter was finding other users in the St. Louis area. They are good people and I’ll miss interacting with them on Twitter.

Currently, my posts on Micro.blog do get crossposted to Twitter, but I imagine that will stop as Musk takes over and I no longer want my content going there. I do respond on Twitter if someone responds to content that was crossposted there, but it’s mainly read-only mode for me right now (with the exception of some likes and retweets still). With updates to the ActivityPub API on Micro.blog, if you use Mastodon, you can also follow my blog using any of the Mastodon Networks (just search @shep@shep.online to follow).

I’ve noticed I’ve been much happier as I’ve curtailed my Twitter use and increased my Micro.blog engagement. I’m no longer being bombarded with constant bad news, hot takes, and drama. I think we all need to take time and touch grass every once in a while. Moving away from Twitter has helped me do just that. I just need to stay away.

There is a really good piece in Variety about William Shatner’s experience going to space for real.

I continued my self-guided tour and turned my head to face the other direction, to stare into space. I love the mystery of the universe. I love all the questions that have come to us over thousands of years of exploration and hypotheses. Stars exploding years ago, their light traveling to us years later; black holes absorbing energy; satellites showing us entire galaxies in areas thought to be devoid of matter entirely… all of that has thrilled me for years… but when I looked in the opposite direction, into space, there was no mystery, no majestic awe to behold . . . all I saw was death.

While I haven’t been to space, I experienced this same feeling while watching Space Explorers on the Oculus Quest 2. If you’re unfamiliar with Space Explorers, it’s a documentary filmed in VR from the International Space Station. Not only do you get to roam around in the ISS, but you get to go outside the ISS. Looking down at Earth is the most amazingly beautiful things you will ever see. Looking out towards the blackness of space was truly terrifying. Nothing ever made me feel more unsettled in my life, and I was just watching an immersive video. I can’t imagine what it would be like to experience the real thing, but Shatner but it into words so eloquently. There is hope though. It makes you appreciate the planet we do have.

It can change the way we look at the planet but also other things like countries, ethnicities, religions; it can prompt an instant reevaluation of our shared harmony and a shift in focus to all the wonderful things we have in common instead of what makes us different. It reinforced tenfold my own view on the power of our beautiful, mysterious collective human entanglement, and eventually, it returned a feeling of hope to my heart. In this insignificance we share, we have one gift that other species perhaps do not: we are aware—not only of our insignificance, but the grandeur around us that makes us insignificant. That allows us perhaps a chance to rededicate ourselves to our planet, to each other, to life and love all around us. If we seize that chance.