Some of you know that I was seeing a girl for just about two months.

Was.

No sympathy, gang. We had a good run, and we’re friends, and I’m only bringing it up to exemplify a point.

I was talking to Sarah about the breakup last night. Well, I shouldn’t say that. I was Twittering at Sarah from my phone and she was Twittering at me from her phone. We weren’t texting. We weren’t talking on the phone. We were sending text messages, me in Scranton and her in LA, to a website that sent the message to another person, possibly in the form of a text message. And one of the things I’m asked is the proper etiquette on how to continue interacting with the person - a person that she’s never met. And I think that, on a certain level, that’s kinda weird.  [NOTE: Although that exchange was the impetus for this post, Sarah was TOTALLY KIDDING.]

I work in social media. I’m a bit of a social media junkie. But it takes a conversation like that to drive home how much unnecessary scaffolding we erect around our lives on the internet. I understand the reasons why - There was a point at which I didn’t associate my name with this blog because I know my grandmother Googles me and because I use the f-word here. And that kind of obfuscation leads to the way we segment out our communications.

“Relationships,” Sarah messages me, “are so complicated these days.” It’s true. You have to worry about when to change your Facebook status more than when to meet the girl’s parents. When I went back to ‘Single’, I was literally flooded with phone calls and emails and messages; I sometimes forget that what I do online goes to hundreds of sets of eyes, not just the ones I know personally. Not that I’d behave differently, just that it’s always a bit of a shock.

How do you navigate the real life/internet balance in your life?

EDIT: I guess maybe the real question is ‘Is there a real life/internet balance in your life?’ How much of the distinction between the two is imaginary?

Late last week, DC Comics did the unthinkable: they took a bold step forward in social media and started a new blog, The Source.

I like it, and I’m probably one of the most vocal and rational critics of the way DC navigates the Internet.  It has good exclusive content, is updated regularly and doesn’t constantly indulge in the “READ THIS LINK” style of reportage that the publisher’s Twitter account consists of.  On top of that, it’s got a killer design.

It’s good to see DC taking some steps to connect directly with its base, and it looks like - maybe - taking their time was worth it.  I’ll be watching to see what kind of legs it has.

I’ve been hyper-critical of DC Comics’ marketing efforts for a good half a year here on Conditional Axe, and have griped about them offline for longer.  And it’s gotten to the point where I read more Image books than DC books each month (when Noble Causes ends, they’ll be neck and neck).

Maybe, though, I should give DC the benefit of the doubt.  Maybe they want to craft a long-term strategy that capitalizes on the most valuable outposts available to them.  Maybe they want to create a message that truly communicates with their userbase.  Maybe they don’t want to half-ass it, and rushing in blindly can lead to half-assery.

But I could be wrong.

The DC_Nation Twitter initiative lasted for about 48 hours.  It updated 18 times, 12 of which are links to aggrandizing press about DC.  There’s also one possibly combative reply to Marvel Art Director Rich Ginter and four Good Morning/Good Afternoon messages.  There’s no give and take here, no community, and no promotion of the artists and writers and other staffers under the DC umbrella.  It did help me find Karl Kerschl on Twitter, though, so that’s a good thing.

It’s entirely possible that DC didn’t set up the account; that some zealous fan did, and that’s why it stopped.  But then DC’s publicist is following it.

I would love to see the account come back in the new year with a new direction. I don’t hate DC; I just want them to be better.
EQUAL TIME: Several of DC’s imprints do have a good, interactive Twitter presence - like Zuda - and it’s no surprise that the social media webcomic arm of the publisher is doing it right.

Ham Sandwich from Adam "Slice" Kuban's Flickr

The key to creating good social media content is typing. Without typing, you really can’t interact online. There are plenty of reasons why ham sandwiches are awesome, but ‘having hands and fingers’ isn’t one of them. So, yeah, of course ham sandwiches suck at being part of the online conversation. Why would you think otherwise?

I mean, yeah, ham sandwiches are also kind of elitist and off-putting. And they have a coke habit. But mostly it’s the lack of hands. And it depends on the kind of mustard you put on it. Really, a bit part of it is that ham sandwiches don’t like me. I know you saw me with grilled cheese that one time, ham sandwich, but it didn’t mean anything. Please answer my calls.

So, I’m giving a presentation to our in-house marketing team yesterday, and it’s all about social media.

Presentations have always kind of been my bane. Once, during a lecture, I just kind of lost control of myself and ended up writing things like lexeme and “Jo Nah can only use one power at a time” and a stick figure Wolverine. I have no idea why I did any of those things in retrospect, but they happened. It scared me a bit. And looking out into the blank faces of my students, I could tell whatever just happened had scared them a bit, too.

But I digress. And I’m about to digress even further, but in a different direction.

I’ve never seen the real utility of MySpace and Facebook on a personal level. I know what they do, and I know that millions and millions of people use it, but I’ve never deemed it “for me.” And it’s not like I’m some kind of Luddite. I grasp technology like a hungry baby – but not that hungry, because I’m selective about it. I don’t grok the value that it adds to my daily life beyond ego-driven self-promotion, and my quota of that is pretty well full already.

Anyway, the upshot is this: during this meeting, it came out that I’m apparently the only person in the entire world that doesn’t have a Facebook account. So, I’m going to make one – and liveblog the process.

I’m quite delighted to discover that I don’t need to submit a jar of blood or sacrifice two doves or sell my soul in order to sign up, although I do need to decipher some obnoxious captcha text, which is the same thing, when you really think about it.

Upon logging in for the first time, I find that I already have a friend request waiting. From a real person that I know. How fucking weird is that? I think that’s pretty weird.

Moving past that initial shock, it looks like, yes, everybody I have ever sent an email to or received an email from is using this stupid site. Everybody except three people, one of whom is my mother. After picking the people I actually talk to regularly and weeding out the masses of videogame and comic book PR reps, I now get to decide whether or not I want to spam the three people in my address book who aren’t using Facebook (one of whom is my mother) and invite them to join in its wonderment. I pass.

Now Facebook wants to know where I went to school and where I work. It’s kind of exciting, actually, like Facebook and I are on a date. I wonder what movie we should go see? I wonder when we’ll start making out?

Next, I get a list of people who went to my alma mater, and while I know some of them, I feel a little awkward adding them as friends when I haven’t spoken to them in 8 years. And also friends of the friends I just picked. I find this stage creepy (again, just like a date).

This then takes me to my Facebook homepage, where I immediately discover that I have been bitten by a zombie. This is basically what I was afraid of. Zombies.

Because I’m having an awesome Facebook party right now, I choose a picture of myself in a festive party hat. No, Internet faithful, I don’t just wear sombreros.

I intuit that I have to edit my profile in order to appear like I give a damn, and it takes me an unconscionably long time to figure out where I need to click to do this, despite the word EDIT in plain view. That’s one strike against you, Facebook, and has nothing to do with my own idiocy.

I fill out my religious and political beliefs accurately:

And…now Facebook wants my address. And my phone number. And my IM screenname, and my bank password and my grandmother’s maiden name. Can I skip this part?

I’m tempted to leave my relationship status as “It’s Complicated” or “Single” just to mess with people. I don’t.

My favorite books? I take back my assessment that this is like a date. I’ve never dated a girl that’s cared that much about my interests. I think I like you, Facebook.

For the curious, this is what I have to say About Me:

There is very little appealing about me. I am a writer, which means I drink a lot. I wear several career hats, but one of them is marketer, which means I hate myself, which means I drink more. I read for pleasure, a bizarre practice only undertaken by the mad and socially ill. I like to cook, which means I like to eat, which is also socially unacceptable these days. I blog, which means I am self-absorbed on an incomprehensible level. Come along and be my awesome Internet friend.

Now everybody will want to be friends with me.

And…I don’t know what I do now. I mean, I have a wall. I could maybe write something offensive on it. Maybe I could become a zombie. Or a vampire. That might be cool.