Katherine Rosman, “When Twittering Gets in the Way of Real Life.” Wall Street Journal, March 27, 2011.
There are certain relationship flashpoints: smoking, for instance, or religion, or money. And then, these days, you have to add technology.
One evening this week, my husband and I had a discussion that mirrors others we've had over the past few years. "Sometimes, it's like you're here and you're not here," Joe said to me. "Your mind and soul are in cyberspace, and all we're left with is the husk."
Whether it's a dad joining conference calls by cellphone during the family vacation, teenagers texting under the table or moms checking Facebook from the soccer sidelines, technology intrudes upon family life in most American homes. And it's only going to get worse as technology becomes even more accessible.
* * *
I am online way too much. I check email. I check Facebook. I check Twitter. I check my email again. Part of the reason is because I'm a working mom and I text with the baby sitter throughout the day. There is also professional necessity. Not only do I often write about social media, but I rely on technology to let me work from home when I can.
Still, I know I'm online far more than I need to be for either work or child care. Sometimes, I mindlessly find myself logging on to Facebook and staring at photos I have posted of my children when I just as easily could be staring at the real thing. I'm not proud to admit that.
Joe is no Luddite. The opposite, really: He's quite a techy guy. You'd think it would be a shared interest. But in a significant way, we diverge.
He loves gadgets. He's got us hooked up with a television system that streams Hulu, accesses Netflix and digital video recordings in HD. (I'm lucky if I can figure out how to turn on the news.)
Me, I love the interaction technology provides. I get excited to share photos of my children's birthday parties with my mom's friends who are Facebook junkies -- and with whom I'm close, thanks to Facebook. But much more than Facebook, Twitter is my weakness.
I can blame my addiction on work. On Twitter, I follow a hand-selected group of journalists, entrepreneurs, other moms -- as well as random people from Bali to Libya to Grand Rapids who are funny and smart in 140 characters. I turn to this group before I look at the newspaper to find out what my handpicked community says are the important stories of the day. And I often decide what stories I will write based on their electronic chatter.
But it's also true that many of the people I follow on Twitter have become a support system. I have a circle of friends and boosters like I haven't in a long time.
In the past, I have told Joe that. He often just rolls his eyes and says a variation of, "As long as you believe that, at least one of us does."
* * *
A few weekends ago, I had to attend a tech-industry convention in Austin, Texas, and Joe came with me. Our first night, I ran into four friends who were also in town for the same event. We chatted for a while.
"That was a really cool group," Joe said to me. "How do you know them?"
"Twitter," I answered.
Back home last Friday night, I powered down the iPhone, got the kids to bed, and Joe and I talked, undistracted.
"I think it was good for me to see in Austin that there are real people you're talking to online," Joe said. "It made it seem like it's less of a silly time-suck than I've assumed it to be."
But, he added, "the problem is, if you were talking on the phone to these people, at least I'd hear one side of the conversation. When you talk to people online, you disappear into the computer."
Good point, I thought. When I was growing up, my mom talked on the phone to her friends, Carol, Linda and Nanci. They called and when I answered, I spoke to them too, responding to their questions about school and softball. I heard Mom talking to them endlessly about who was playing golf with whom and who was up for a power walk. Those friendships echoed from the kitchen; they were a part of the family fabric. Mine are private. And as we tell our 5-year-old, when you tell secrets in front of people, it can hurt their feelings.
It seemed fitting to put this issue in front of my Twitter and Facebook friends: Have you made or maintained valuable relationships online? I asked them. Their responses were passionate, expressing how enriched their lives have been by Internet communities. One woman said she broke up with a boyfriend because he mocked her tech attachments. "I think I have to marry a Tweeter," she concluded.
That night, Joe and I had dinner with our best friends, who know well my electronic obsessions. We talked about my Twitter survey.
"Let me show you some of the responses," I said, reaching for my iPhone.
But I stared into the screen a moment too long.
"Here comes the husk," Joe said. "Decorative, though, isn't it?"
We all burst out laughing.
In the end, I had proved to my husband that real connections can be fomented and fostered online. But the more relevant truth is that my husband wants more of my focus and attention. So does my sister. And though I try to be disciplined around my kids, I'm probably too often absent with them, too.
I will continue to be a technology and social-media evangelist. But it's incumbent upon me to find a way to consume less -- and, more importantly, let it consume less of me.
—Katherine Rosman writes about pop culture and technology for The Wall Street Journal; she and her family live outside New York City. Email: . Twitter: @katierosman
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