POKES AND TWEETS

Sitting at the table in this plush Italian restaurant, my fingers twitched with the omniscient cellphone. Should one blog, dig, tweet or poke – such was my conundrum. I was thinking of all my cyber-followers waiting in the wings to get my thoughts on that mouthwatering carciofo al forno while waiting for my three-course meal. I hope they picked up my tweet a few minutes ago about my struggle finding a parking spot on the street. I noticed that Tarzan the ApeMan was now following me on Twitter, between mouthfuls of delectable fare. As my blinking beeping gadget reminds me, there are far too many things in my world to worry about these days – and a prolonged dinner in a fashionable outfit is not one of them. Was that the pet supply pet supply store alerting me that their special flea comb for ferrets is back on their shelves? I couldn’t have accidentally accepted that curious cousin as a Facebook friend, surely?

If you wake up on a Sunday morning like me, wallowing in the vast cyberspace and surrounding blogosphere, chances are that you are hopeless socially. I pick up my handheld as the fingers itch for something to do and caress it like a bay seeking out a soggy thumb. I seem to always be in a state of nail-biting anticipation at social gatherings, waiting for that electronic nudge in my pocket that sends me packing to the most private corner. Forget the neighbour’s personal matters those people were discussing. I just got an instant message from that passenger seated by me last week informing us that he was contemplating hitting the restroom. My digital assistant seems to catch me at the most awkward of moments the wife tells me that these days it often takes ma an hour changing the light bulb between Orkut interruption and Bebo blah-blahs. Shrinks argue that social networking sites have paradoxically bloated our space bubble, inducing isolationist tendencies. An acquaintance stealthily recently called my work number early Saturday morning and sound both surprised and offended when one actually picked up the phone. I quickly excused myself by pretending an interruption, promising to contact him soon. Electronically, of course. I seem to prefer a poke to a handshake, just like everyone else these days.

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