by SIhelt Garner
I finally got past the gatekeepers and got access to the BlueSky Twitter clone. It’s fine, I guess, but it’s so full of smug, wealthy Twitter liberal exiles that I find myself feeling extremely insecure about my drunk crank loser life.
The general vibe of BlueSky is a high end cocktail party before the booze kicks in. Everyone is normal and interesting and complains about First World Problems in the a way that is normal and expected. In short, BlueSky evokes the vibe of a mid-1990s WELL.
It’s all rather boring.
And the service is so small that it’s all rather disconcerting. I churn out my usual freaky weirdo content and I’m totally ignored. I guess that’s to be expected. But something about that also grates on my nerves. Something about the smug nattering nabobs of negativism ignoring me plays into my own insecurities about my lot in life.
It evokes a “what does it all mean” sentiment on my part.
This angst reminds me of my long-held belief that if you’re really weird, you will have friends and if you’re “normal” you’ll have friends. But if you’re like me and aspire to be “normal” but act like a freaky weirdo because you have no idea what you’re going, then, well, you’re fucked.
It’s also interesting to me that the very thing that makes the service so popular to its smug, wealthy users is the very thing that makes it a has-been in the Twitter-clone space: a lack of the great unwashed masses.
The want to have their private virtual circle jerk and yet they also want the service to be popular. Wanting these two things is not viable. Anyway. Lulz. No one listens to me.