When I was a teenager I read a book. I did other things too, but this sticks in the memory because it was the harrowing account of a sufferer of Multiple Personality Syndrome (MPS) which shouldn’t be confused with Premenstrual syndrome (PMS) despite the glaring similarities.
The book was called Sybil, Sally Field did some fantastic twitching in the film version. I don’t remember much about the book except it involved some graphic child abuse involving a funnel, which puts my own account of child abuse involving a funnel in the shade somewhat. (Dad used to get us to hold the funnel when he was pouring his home brew into demi-johns,- but for AGES, it ached like shit.)
The reason I bring this up is that recently I have begun to feel like I too have begun to develop multiple personalities, owing to social media.
As well as facebook, I also have two blogs, two twitter accounts and, given the previous sentence, clearly too much time on my hands.
With each outlet there is a different Jenny.
I have a slightly amusing/slightly horticultural blog and tied twitter account called tiny farmer, (http://tinyfarmer.wordpress.com/ and @thetinyfarmer if you were wondering). I also have my Facebook account which is connected to all my friends and family, a twitter account which only faithful and accidental follow (@jennylaville). Then I have my desperate attempts to be funny blog (this is it, did you think I’d give you a different link? Clearly I am failing.).
So on the rare occasions that I do have something to say, which I feel is safe to broadcast beyond just me and the breadbin, I turn to my smartphone to share the gem, but then I hesitate. Is this bon mot in some way garden related? No, Ok. Tiny farmer is out then. Is it funny enough for my blog, or only funny enough for those who may require me to babysit their kids or donate an organ to appreciate, or does this particular witty observation demand the greater (but in literal terms, lesser) audience of the blog?
Then there is the question of suitability. For example, just today I tweeted the following.
Aroma of Christmas cake fills the room as I leaf through an Argos catalogue. Couldn’t be more Christmassy if I was getting it on with Santa.
I also posted it on Facebook when it occurred to me that while on Twitter, there was only an outside possibility that one of my three followers may be offended- I’m pretty sure the close family and school mums who are friends on FB don’t need the mental image of me shagging Father Christmas on the kitchen table in their minds at dinner time.
I tried to delete it, but it was too late, someone had left a comment, after which point you cannot delete a thread. That would be rude.
Pretending to be only one person is difficult enough to maintain when the social worker visits. For you guys I am, as always, whatever you want me to be, baby.
From → Life