When I was little, at home, we had a minitel. That made us very cutting-edge for 1985.
Then I grew up blissfully ignorant in my miniteled sheltered life, until when, a young and naive new undergraduate student, I visited Cambridge in the glorious summer of 1997, to learn English and the ways of the world. I proceeded to meet a young Cambridge student who punted like a god, looked really good in a blue shirt, and had an email address: I realised that I urgently needed one, too. Thanks to that summer in Cambridge, I not only improved my English really fast, but I became technically-savvy and a cyber legend among my friends back home (our university did not have a computer. I actually doubt it had so much as a a typing-machine; we wrote all our essays and dissertations by hand, not like those lucky guys in Cambridge. Those were the times). I could boast for 1 year and a half approximatively: by 1999, I could only try to impress my grandmother, and even I could realise that she was not that impressed by then. Everybody had an email address. Everybody was using the Internet.
And that's it. Since then I have been dwelling in the backwaters of the world wide web.
I got on Facebook early, but that was just an easy way to add two years to my PhD really. I tried Twitter, but never caught up (Too much Stephen Fry, not enough visuals. Either that or middle-age must have struck somewhere between 2006 and now). I tried del.icio.us but immediately forgot about it. I had a blog, but never blogged.
So here is what I expect of 23 things: to be 23 steps closer to the Librarians' heaven of communication mavens. I am not sure that that last sentence actually makes sense, but my heart is in it.
