hashtag hell

Sunshine this morning, end of the work week and I’m moving ver-r-ry slow-w-w-wly. Pondering the great things like how fast that #ant made it across the floor once I’d spotted it. And from there, how much our spoken #language will change into some variety of hashtag dialect as our written language seems to be moving towards.

I can hear an emphasis when I read comments sprinkled with hashtags, a kind of ironic, Greek chorus observation that points out the presence of others even as one person struggles to make him/herself heard. Good manners posits you don’t use too many or too varied hashtags. But too few puts you into Coventry, a lonely place of punishment familiar to many English schoolboys.

In the spirit of learning, I originally thought hashtags were clever timesavers. But now I find their constant interruptions and promises of more interesting conversations elsewhere annoying. It’s micro-multitasking. I feel left out if I ignore them, and irritated with the unrelatedness if I do.

But I can feel their insidiousness creeping closer and closer.

Back, Tag, back!

My fragile train of thought won’t survive being #broken #down #into #bits!

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