You can’t do anything about it – if you have an addictive behaviour, whatever you like turns into a bad habit.
Buying stationery, cigarettes with red wine, point-and-click adventure games, bollocking your employees, sexual roleplay, love mitosis, costume-dramas, self-help books, Indie electro, social networks. By the way, I know this looks like my “likes” section on Facebook, but you can safely put the guesswork out of it – it’s not completely autobiographic.
Now Twitter: I’m playfully keeping an eye on myself as I become addicted to it.
I mean: ain’t it perfect? It’s reliable and predictable, you usually start by hating it, but then you reach a tolerance phase, and all of a sudden you start feeling its absence…
Your tragic antecedent is your curiosity: you sign up just for a second (“let me have a look”), you think you might “just go in and use the toilet”, then you consider it for self promotion reasons, and all of a sudden something funny happens and you’re damned – there you are, tweeting at a double, triple, quadruple rate. You set up Twitter widgets in your blogs and install tiny-url services and start looking for your favourite social-network aggregator.
Do me a favour: don’t ever show me anything I might find remotely interesting. Please!