Is it wrong to be impressed yet angry at your parent’s ability to understand and use technology. For many of us Y generation individuals, we take pride on the fact that our parents are unable to access our Myspace or Facebook accounts, or Twitters.

My father reminded me yesterday that he was on Twitter and wanted to know whether or not his co-worker was able to see his post to him. I told my father that his co-worker would have to be subscribed to his Twitter feed to see his and read his posts. I didn’t’ even know my dad was Twittering but that is because I was not following his tweets. But this alerted me to a new fact, that my dad is now part of the 21st century and could actually see anything and everything that I post online. I should have known this last Christmas when we sat around watching YouTube videos that were posted by a cousin of mine who actually has quite a following on YouTube. The videos had my whole family laughing and my parents stating out loud “is it necessary for Kevin to curse that much?”

All of these new social networking sites and programs are wonderful for keeping in touch with our old college roommates, former co-workers, and friends across the country. But what do we do when our parents begin to ask us questions about items we post. I realize that these issues came out and were prevelant in the early 2000’s when blogging was becoming a major phenomenon. Blogs went from being an online diary meant to spew your most intimate thoughts and secrets to major marketing tools for corporations. They also became one of the first things for new employers to look for to gain dirt and information on a prospective employee. One of my favorite bloggers was the first to be fired because of her blog and it basically was the best thing for her, it launched a career and lifestyle that I don’t think she would want to trade for anything in the world.

So do we as artists, writers, thinkers and dreamers begin to curb the thoughts that we Tweet to one another, or do we just go with the flow and risk having our parents ask us embarrassing questions when we meet them for our weekly dinners? You know questions about our one night stands, our drunken nights at the bars, pregnancy scares, or office tirades.

I need to work on my writing as well as investigative reporting so I could add some facts and interviews with cutting edge bloggers on this subject. Maybe in the future… until then, it will just be the ramblings of an Irish Rasta, a modern day beatnik wannabe.