If you were to look at my Twitter during the past five minutes, it would look something like this:

CicAndDesist is writing an article about Twitter.

CicAndDesist wonders if Twittering about Twitter should be called meta-Twittering.

CicAndDesist is lul’ing.

My love affair with Twitter began as a joke. I created my account to prove to my suitemates that meaningful communication could be accomplished in 140 characters. “Brevity is the soul of wit,” after all. What followed was a simultaneous explanation of our desire for connection and immediate gratification and what some would call an unhealthy addiction.

The onset of Twitter’s popularity was really only a matter of time. The whole phenomenon began with Facebook and specifically with the introduction of the Facebook status. Once upon a time, we only had three options for Facebook statuses, which was quickly replaced with the obligatory “[Your name here] is…”  Now the status possibilities are limited only by the imagination and what fits into the third-person singular. As we became more and more proficient in communicating through one-line sentences, we began to look for an outlet for that creative energy—updating your Facebook status multiple times in one day is a little suspect.

The most fascinating thing about Twitter is how intimately people get to know each other within the context of 140-character entries. Amidst all of the posts about delicious sandwiches and mundane errands are very honest, revealing entries. It’s really what I imagine confession must be like for Catholics. (I’m tempted to make the obligatory “confession behind a screen” pun, but I just can’t bring myself to do so.)

Twitter forces one to consider the difference between destroying communication and hearing too much.  While some say that technology limits real interaction and is turning our whole generation into antisocial techno-hermits, the fact of the matter is that we’re more connected than ever before. We end up paying more attention to each other and understanding each other better by examining the minutiae of our days. Oftentimes what we get is too much information, to be sure, but it’s a small price to pay for our newfound collective consciousness.