A Field Guide to the Social Media Power User
There are four types of social media power users that seem to crowd my field of vision nowadays.
I’m not a power user. Not by a long shot. I’m too old, and I’m working on hip flexibility anyway. But I’ve read Carl Jung, and I can recognize an archetype when I see one. Here’s my take on the big four, with a downside and upside for each one.
The Cassandra: The ignored prophetess of classical mythology, Cassandra lives on in those who constantly remind us that they predicted twenty years ago that Donald Trump would run for President and win and dismantle our Constitution, clause by clause; that we wouldn’t listen to the their prophecy, and so they’re here to remind us with bold, garish fonts floating on a neon-colored fill, that we didn’t listen; and that now it’s too late and bad things have happened probably because we didn’t listen. These Cassandras leave us feeling unworthy of the platform. Exiled back into anonymity where we belong. The downside to the Cassandra? It’s pure ego. Ignore. Get on with your life. The upside? Maybe we learn something about the ego’s will to power.
The Paul Revere: A personal favorite of mine, The Paul Revere is always telling us that the Apocalypse is not only coming, but that it’s entered our neighborhood, and we’d better hustle down to our farmer’s market, if it hasn’t already been turned into a pillar of salt, and start buying heirloom seeds because when the Apocalypse gets here, we’ll want to take up gardening. The downside to The Paul Revere? They’re like weather forecasters: they’re always getting it wrong so we don’t take them seriously, but soon or later, they will also be right, and when they are, we’re left standing there, exposed, duly warned, and seedless in our untilled gardens. The upside? We learn a lot because Paul Reveres spend all of their time reading things that we don’t. And talking to people who wouldn’t answer our DM’s. And thinking about things that will break our brains. Paul Reveres are essential, but you have to be picky. Go with Timothy Snyder or Heather Cox Richardson.
The Milarepa: Milarepa was an 11th-century Tibetan yogi who spent years and years in caves scattered throughout the Himalayas. He occasionally drifted down to the lower elevations to tell everyone that all things must pass. He might even sing a song to a gaggle of villagers, and then he’d disappear for several years while all things passed, and the villagers wondered what just happened. He drank nettle tea and turned green. The Milarepas will tell you, as our Republic fades away, that nothing lasts forever. The downside to The Milarepa? Even our dogs, who are smarter than we are, know this. The Milarepa is a mask for apathy. The upside? Maybe we’re kind to ourselves for a moment and watch the breeze saunter through the maples. And take pleasure in the sauntering breeze. Because all things must pass away anyway, and we’d better take a good look at what we do have instead of grasping at all those things we don’t have. Full disclosure: I trend Milarepa an awful lot. But you can’t go wrong with Jetsun Tenzin Palmo.
The Contrarian: The Contrarian shows up exclusively in the comment section. They post numbingly long responses that no one of sound mind can or should finish. Contrarians typically begin their comment with something like: “So, I take it you’ve never read Michael Oakeshott and his seminal book, Experience and Its Modes because in that work, modality engenders a transitional liminality which speaks directly to your informing confusion.” That’s as much as we can take, even though there’s at least six more inches of this stuff. The upside to The Contrarian? We’re empowered now, and we love the power, to lament like Virginia Woolf about what is being done to our precious mother tongue by The Contrarian’s disregard for beautiful words and melodic syntax. The downside to the Contrarian? We feel obligated now, and we hate obligation of any sort, to throw overboard, like Strunk and White would, all those baggy words because no sentence needs that kind of ugly ballast. Free the sentence, I say. Surely, there’s more to life than this. Not, apparently, for The Contrarian.
That’s it. The four archetypes of the power user.
Which one are you? Which one do you particularly loathe?
Think about it.
Even though, of course, you too will pass.
