The technology of self-help

I found a mobile app that has changed my life. In just three weeks. Noom Weight Loss has revolutionised the way I look at food, weight loss and exercise.

I downloaded the app (for free) from the Android market at the beginning of the month. In the past three weeks, I’ve lost 2kgs – not to mention just about ALL my cravings for junkfood and other high-calorie treats.

The self-help junkie in me did a virtual somersault! I’d finally found the secret to winning this life-long battle. And this, my friends, is exactly what technology is SUPPOSED to do. Technology is the epitome of self-help. It’s meant to empower, set-free and inspire.

Undoubtedly, the development of this little miracle app is informed by a whole lot of research, expert opinion and the collective results of multiple psychological studies – not to mention hours of slog by numerous tech-type guys to put it all together. That’s cool and everything, but I care only that it works.

And it does work. You know why? Because the Android market is a cut-throat place: Users have the power of the rating. And they're not afraid to use it. One ‘force-close’ when someone’s having a bad day; or a badly timed update-induced performance bug and you’re toast! Your cushy 5-star corner office can become the dingy 3-star cubicle in the blink of an eye, or - more aptly - in the tap of a touchscreen. You give your product away for free and people will still not hesitate to crush you if you don’t meet the grade. It’s so beautifully democratic.

I have no time for the latest or most cutting-edge anything unless it’s going to make my life easier or better. For real.

That’s why when I have to use a certain South-African-financial-management-software-system-that-shall remain-nameless at about this time of every month I want to hurl. I can’t understand how they can even be anything near a leading software provider, or provider of anything at all for that matter, anywhere in the world.

I can’t wait until the day *everything* happens in the cloud. Then they’ll see. Then we’ll show them.

Mr Nice Troll

I've noticed recently that I am on my best form, tweet-wise, with a little liquor in me. I am not proud of it, but there is something about laying your questionable humour and inane quirks out in front of total strangers that requires (for me, anyway) a certain measure of 'Dutch courage'.

Of late, I find it harder to believe that I really have anything of much value to say, considering my current life circumstances - top of the list being the sudden wearing off of the novelty of this whole 'virtual' office model thing. In the midst of all this tightening of economic belts by potential clients, it's taken a sudden turn towards the literal! The ensuing physical isolation has placed certain doubts in my mind regarding my actual value to society (and by extrapolation, social networks).

Anyone who follows me might be aware of the fact that I hardly tweet much lately and, to a large extent, that's why. But, put a drink in my hand and I find myself positively consumed by the urge to broadcast to the twittersphere. There's a peculiar devil-may-care relentlessness to my tweeting on those occasions. I can go on for hours without getting an @ mention back to speak of. In a word, I vent. For better or worse.

However, despite this virtual opening of my inhibition floodgates when under the influence, I remain always a nice person. Which brings me to my point... I read an article in this month's Cosmopolitan magazine about internet trolls - those nasty creatures that inhabit the dark underbelly of my beloved interweb: websites' comments sections.

According to Cosmo SA and the experts they spoke to, internet trolls are typified by "posting disruptive comments to elicit a response from a group... normally groups that are easy to incite... posting sweeping and offensive statements. But sometimes they target an individual".

Being generally self-deprecating and prone to much (oft irrational) hand-wringing anxiety myself, I can - to a certain degree - understand the probable myriad of self-esteem issues that must plague this particular group of individuals. But still, does it all have to be so nasty? Is it not a far nobler pursuit to just want to be liked - like me?

I don't get it. I mean, I too believe that anonymity is probably one of the web's most seductive qualities. I assume it is to some what my large goblet of wine is to me - license to go forth into the vastness of cyberspace, unhindered and unfiltered. Still, it's a tad sad in my mind to use that same anonymity for the pure purpose of inciting a response, only for the hollow victory of you being the only one who knows who exactly it was that caused the ruckus in the first place. And worse, is it really a victory when all you have done is just, in so many cases, cause real and personal offence?

At least I have the courage to own my drunken ramblings. As much as I may hide behind my bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, I remain @TseliB: and I am completely willing to face the fact that whatever I subject my followers to via my twitstream will live forever on in the ether, inextricably linked to my name and online persona.

I am proud to say that in fifteen years, I will have no more regrets about it than I did the morning after I tweeted it. How many trolls can say the same?