There is no question that we’re in the Information Era big time. There are so many advantages to instant access to people, places and things. That said, sometimes I feel like I’m bailing the boat of my consciousness with a thimble.
Against my better judgment I joined Facebook. I had to join because my business requires that I do so…why pass up the opportunity to reach large groups of people? That said, I feel like the top of everyone’s head in the Universe has been unscrewed and all the contents have been dumped out for me to sift through. From triviality to importance, there it all is. I have two cats and three litter boxes…surfing through Facebook reminds me of the litter boxes. (Sorry) I not only don’t want to know most of what’s there, but I definitely don’t need to know other people’s reactions to what is there. T.M.I. (Too Much Information).
I hope my posts don’t feel like T.M.I…. I hope they’re J.E.I. (Just Enough Information.)
In the past I’ve sarcastically stated that every body part should have a -book, not just the Face. There are certain body parts that might actually have -books heretofore unnamed. People evidently spend a lot of time on line looking at the other body parts, although they might not be formally named -books.
Email wasn’t fast enough for us, so we now have texting. Texting on my tiny iPhone gives me a headache. I have very small fingers, but still not small enough to avoid over-reaching and creating bizarre errors. The auto-correct can also create some embarrassing communications. I find the “m” particularly troubling, do you? Instead of hitting “m” I hit the backspace resulting in erasing the “m” and having to rework the message. “Oy vey,” as our Jewish friends say.
If you forget to turn off your iPhone in a theater or in a class, you suddenly become e-popular, the focus of every person who needs to e-communicate. My iPhone finds itself the most obscure places to hide when I’m trying to find it to turn it off. I think it’s iLaughing at me.
I can understand why people have personal assistants. Those are people that can turn T.M.I. into J.E.I. I am finding this process another job on top of those I already have. Yet when there is nothing in my In Box, it feels like a tangible sign of my irrelevancy. T.M.I., annoyance. N.I., irrelevancy. I hope I can hit the golden mean.
With love and hopes that this is J.E.I., Rosanne