They call it social media for a reason.
Scampering around the blogosphere is all well and good but it’s boring and one dimensional if it doesn’t have any bearing on reality. Who wants to sit staring at a computer all day – you may as well have a real job!
Curious soul that I am, I wanted to see what or rather who, inhabited this strange world and it wasn’t long before I discovered the weird and wonderful world of meet ups, tweet ups and general chaos associated with the blogosphere.
In this particular world, a basic knowledge of 2.0 jargon is your invitation to join in. It’s open to all just as long as you get in on the invite list to these really popular events fast enough. Once you know an event is going to happen, the simple matter of signing up to the standard issue ‘eventbrite’ ticketing system to get your free ticket assigned is made difficult by the evaporation of availability in seconds.
The event organisers are always proud to emphatically explain the set up; these meet up-whatevers are called unconferences and are very
chaotic deconstructed. I found it an anarchic and anti-corporate in vibe, and really liked it.
Not one to hold back, I was like a kid in a sweetshop, and I signed up to every event going. It was easy. In fact, it started out being really good fun and I met a lot of interesting people. It almost felt like the old days when I used to go to free parties. There were people from all walks of life who were into blogging about all sorts of things.
But then I discovered the next thing on from meetups was tweetups.
Tweet ups? Yes, tweet ups.
Meet ups can be fun, but I fell out of love with tweetups when I went to a Saturday morning get together and signed up for a whole day of ‘unconferencing’. I’d been looking really forward to it, especially since it was located right next to one of my favourite clothes shops so I would be able to snap up something special to wear for my big night out during the lunchtime break.
How wrong could I be? On looking round the room I knew I was outnumbered by at least 40 hairy nerdy men to one poor little me. We were divided into groups of ten to 12 people and asked what we twittered about.
The guy next to me stood up and shouted
He then laughed like a baddy from Scooby Doo.
I rummaged in the bottom of my handbag to see if I could find any scissors to cut off his pony tail, sadly I was scissor free. It was time to make a swift exit.
I snuck out on the premise of feeding money into an imaginary meter.
I don’t have a car.
I left and never returned.
Tweet ups are just not for me.