Social media is all about sharing: sharing links, sharing photos, sharing connections, sharing knowledge and sharing your opinions - as it should be. As with real-life sharing, however, there are plenty of unspoken rules about what and when to share when it comes to Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Google+ or your blog. 

 If you’re new to any of these platforms, it can be tough to tell what you should share and what crosses the line. See below for a quick (and perhaps somewhat sassy) etiquette lesson on how to stay on the tasteful side of that line without sacrificing the sharing that makes social media so wonderful. 

Over-sharing Exhibit A: Saturday night. You’re out at the bar/club/house party. A simple “OMG you guys, I am SO drunk right now!” pops into your head and seems like the perfect Facebook status update. 

Let’s talk about everything that’s wrong with this one: for one thing, you’re Facebooking instead of enjoying the festivities! Also, you’re drinking and Facebooking--something that you have a (unscientific survey result alert!) 98% chance of regretting the next morning. I can pretty much guarantee you won’t wake up saying “Wow, I’m really glad I went to my crush’s profile page and ‘Liked’ every single one of his updates last night”. Finally, that you’re letting the world, or at least 597 of your closest ‘Friends’, know you’re wasted. Not very classy. You can delete your update the next morning, but by then, it’s too late. That digital footprint lasts a lot longer than your hangover did. 

Do This Instead: Writing a great Yelp review of the bar you were at--the next morning. Tweeting something like “Loving the creative cocktail menu at XYZ Lounge.” Tagging a few of your friends as you check in to the Facebook event for the party. 

Over-sharing Exhibit B: Checking in to every single place you visit on Foursquare, linking your check-ins to Twitter and Facebook, and linking your Twitter updates to your LinkedIn profile.

Oh boy. While I’m occasionally (read: often) guilty of checking in to boring places like the MBTA stop on my daily commute, there’s no need to broadcast it across any and every social media platform you can get your trackpad-grazing fingers on. Different platforms need different content. The above tweet about XYZ Lounge’s cocktail menu probably doesn’t make sense sitting above your employment history on your LinkedIn profile, and your entire Twitter following (and anyone else looking you up) doesn’t need to know you checked in to your apartment with your “friend” at 2:30 a.m. last night.

Do This Instead: Keep Twitter for your tweets, LinkedIn for your career, and leave the subway stop check-ins on Foursquare where they belong.  

Over-sharing Exhibit C: Posting multiple whiny tweets about bad service you experienced while dining out, without calling out the restaurant (snarky hashtags optional).

Come on now--this isn’t useful for anyone! Not only do your followers have to read your whining, but they don’t even know what restaurant to avoid the next time they head out! The restaurant won’t hear about your negative experience and fix the problem or improve for the future. While the “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” rule doesn’t always apply, you need to make sure your criticism is, at the very least, constructive. 

Do This Instead: Take two seconds to Google the restaurant and see if they have a Twitter handle you can mention, or skip tweeting altogether and send them an email. If you absolutely must warn your followers about the bad experience, keep it short and simple with one tweet (and one tweet only) that names the restaurant and the reason you were disappointed. Go write a rant-filled Yelp review on the restaurant’s page if you’re that fired up about it.

Over-sharing Exhibit D: ReTweeting Mashable, TechCrunch, or the New York Times with no added commentary and without reading the actual article beforehand.

It’s great that you’re trying to seem well-informed by following major blogs and news outlets. Really. But guess what - I follow them, too. Your friends probably all follow them. You’re not adding any value by blindly RTing something that at least half the people following you have already seen. People are following you because they’re interested in what you’re saying and what you think. Don’t deny them a chance to engage in a 140-characters-or-less debate with you over the author’s grammar errors!

Do This Instead: Add a quick opinion about the article/blog post when you share it, and only after actually reading through the whole thing. This is where link-shortening really comes in handy--so you can get a thought or two in with that link! 

So please, I’m begging you: think twice before you share. Because if you cross the line into over-sharing, there will be plenty of people out there, myself included, who will @reply you and use snarky hashtags in our response. If you ABSOLUTELY. MUST. OVER-SHARE, pick a network like Path so you'll only annoy your 150 absolute closest friends. ;-)

As 2011 winds down and we gear up to ring in 2012, I'm seeing a lot of updates from friends and brands recapping what they've achieved this past year or listing their resolutions for next year. While I'm all for celebrating business and life achievements and setting goals for the future, what I'm really into celebrating right now is (*sap alert!*) the people in my life and the relationships I've built with them. 

Earlier this month, I spent a wonderful evening with three friends who have made a huge impact on my life over the past year. We shared wine, food, gifts, and a movie--AND toasted to our one-year "friend-a-versary". Amidst the craziness of office holiday parties, shopping for gifts, and trying to wrap up all of our 2011 projects, we made time to celebrate the memories we'd made together over the past year (and believe me, there were many!).

This post wouldn't be complete without a shoutout here to the folks at DartBoston, who threw a fabulous party (and BostInnovation, who threw a fabulous pre-party) last December that brought Pam Sahota, Kristin Dziadul, Janet Aronica and me together. I've heard it called the "Dart-y" by some, and so far, it has been the catalyst for countless social-media- and sales-funnel-related jokes, hilarious hashtags, Janet-isms, entertaining brunch stories, and more. DartBoston is a great resource for young pros in Boston and if you haven't attended one of their events, I highly recommend it. They've done away with stuffy networking receptions and replaced them with Flip Cup tournaments, etc. Genius, if you ask me.

Now, back to the point of my story...
Not only have these ladies provided me with tons of advice, but they're never afraid to pass along a link to someone who they think might know more than they do! I try to tell them at least once a week what smarty-pantses they all are, and how I'm pretty sure they'll all be running the world (or at least some game-changing companies) one day. When I need a date to any startup- or tech-related event, I know I have not one but THREE lovely ladies by my side. (And, unlike a date in a tux, these girls let me borrow their shoes.) They're cheerleaders for my career, my love life, my relationships with family; they've helped me power through any problem I've had that even remotely resembled a quarter-life crisis. I couldn't ask for a better suport system.

Celebrating our "friend-a-versary" is a tradition I hope we continue for many Decembers to come, and a tradition I plan to continue with other friends as well. Plus, it gives me a reason to extend the holiday season through the other 11 months of the year! (Personally, I find these types of occasions are best accompanied by wine/champagne and lots of good, old-fashioned gossip.)

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A little love from Maine,
Liz

While I normally use this space to talk about social media, my thoughts on business, startups, Gen Y or networking, today I'm deviating from that pattern and discussing something I've gotten pretty fired up about lately: the state of romantic relationships in 2011.

I've noticed an alarming trend: it seems like many of the twentysomethings I know (and some thirtysomethings, too) are treating their relationships like their careers. So often, we hear the analogy that climbing the career ladder is a lot like dating, but unfortunately, I think too many of us are flipping that wisdom upside down, trying to approach our love lives as we do our working lives.

I've heard business ideas and new software and apps and interfaces called "sexy" more times than I can count over the past few years, and I think it's great that so many of us are so excited. I'm guilty of calling these things sexy, too. And this is all well and good--we should be that into our careers--wasting 40 years on something you're not that into just doesn't seem like a good way to spend your working life. However, I can barely remember the last time I heard one of my friends describe their relationship as "sexy" or even "exciting".

Is it because we live in a world where young people are increasingly able to find exciting careers? Are we finding satisfaction in our jobs instead of our relationships? Is it possible that our increasingly flexible, increasingly stimulating jobs are taking ownership of the fervor once reserved for relationships and eliminating the need we had for real romance?

Whatever the reason we're struggling with love, something's gotta give. So friends, acquaintances, and businesspeople, I'm begging you: please stop treating your relationships like your careers. Your girlfriend is never going to give you a raise and that new relationship you've just gotten into doesn't need to be a stepping stone to something bigger and better. 

In order to fix this egregious behavior, here's what I suggest we do to bring "sexy" back...to our relationships:

1. Stop "managing expectations"

If I hear a friend tell me a guy told her "I'm not looking for anything serious right now" on the first date ONE more time, I might scream. Leave a little room for possibility! That girl you're on a first date with isn't your client, so there's no need to worry about going over scope when you spend time together. While it's great to be clear about your wants and needs, there's also the chance you might actually like her (go figure). You don't need to bring up how focused you are on your career on the first date in order to make the chance of any future commitment as minimal as possible. If she's out with you in the first place, she probably knows how excited you are about your job and thinks ambition is hot. Nobody's saying you have to lock it down that early on, so stop trying to avoid commitment before you've even gotten to know her. 

2. "Good on paper" is great for your resume, but not so great for your love life

In our working lives, we're always trying to find the job that's a perfect match for our skills, background, interests and future goals. We want each company we work for to be an ideal cultural fit, too. But think about it: if this worked in relationships, we'd all have found our match in high school, gone to the same college, picked the same major, moved to the same city after graduation, worked at the same entry-, mid- and senior-level positions til we retired, had all the same interests and never experienced the fun that comes with learning about someone else's passions. We'd basically be married to ourselves!

Some of the best dates I've been on have been with guys who chose a completely different life path than I did--they have jobs in totally different economic sectors, don't always understand marketing-speak or know anything about an @ reply, and didn't attend an Ivy League institution. We had a lot to talk about, which is something I wouldn't want anyone to give up just because they were looking for that "perfect on paper" match. Opposites attract: it's what makes the world go 'round.

3. Ignore the practicalities

At work, we can calculate things like ROI, click-through rates, YOY profits, margins and more. In relationships, there's just no way to quantify these things. Live a little--stop tallying up the money and time you've spent or worrying about your your "number" (props to Marie Claire for this great piece on five women and their "numbers"). 

Actually, I lied. there is a way to quantify these things: 

Have any of you noticed your friends treating their love lives like their careers? Is it a problem? I'd love to hear what you think in the comments!

By this point, most of you are aware of the fact that I've recently changed jobs. I left the ass-kicking, awesome, forward-thinking Kel & Partners, where I was doing PR and Social Media, to become an Associate Community Manager at Communispace. It was a tough choice to make, especially since the peeps at K&P welcomed me with open arms into my first real full-time job and treated me like a family member rather than an employee. As I told them during my last week, I learned something from each and every person there. I had the chance to work on some great accounts both big and small and got my hands dirty developing new ways to quantify the fantastic media hits our Account Managers secured each day. 

While I was busy immersing myself in PR agency life, the most important thing I realized was that media relations just isn't for me. I have tons and TONS of respect for people who commit their careers to pitching day in and day out, reaching out to reporters, producers, bloggers, celebrity stylists, editors, and more to secure coverage for their clients or brand. It's not an easy job, and I really admire the thick skin most PR practitioners have developed once they've been out there pitching for a couple of years. 

The reason I decided to move away from PR and into my new role is pretty simple: PR wasn't giving me the answers I wanted about the world. I studied social anthropology in college--a field entirely dedicated to finding out what motivates people, what influences them, and why they act the way they do. If that wasn't enough, my minor was called "Language, Mind and Brain" (a fancy, Harvard-y way of saying psycholinguistics) and allowed me to study what's going on in people's heads as they relate to language. What I really wanted to do was figure people out and, more specifically, figure out consumers--the people who interact with brands every single day. 

At Communispace, I'm going to be on the front lines, managing branded communities for clients in a variety of sectors. I'll be helping them get the real answers to what's going on in their customers' heads, helping them find better solutions to their business challenges, and, best of all, being a sort-of "online ethnographer". When I chose my college major, I never thought I'd translate it directly into a career, but as a community manger, I really will be a social anthropologist. Only instead of using the traditional methods of ethnography--moving somewhere, living with a group of people for an extended period of time, and trying to take in as many of their day-to-day habits as possible--I'll be interacting with community members online and accomplishing some of the same objectives. 

When you think about it, it's kind of a perfect combination of roles for a digital native, social-media-focused, brand-obsessed kid with a ton of questions yet to be answered, huh?

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We've all heard the advice that you shouldn't post anything to your Facebook, Twitter account, or LinkedIn page that you wouldn't want your mom and/or a prospective employer to see. I did the big Facebook purge my senior year of college, like many of us, making sure there was nothing controversial on there that could give anyone a reason not to hire me for an entry-level position after graduation. Since my tweets are public, I am always conscious of what I'm tweeting: enough to give people a taste of my real personality but not so much that I offend anyone with rants that'd be better saved for a Happy Hour debate. I'm lucky to work for a company where we encourage "positive controversy" (if you don't believe me, check out my CEO's blog for a taste of this), so as long as my posts are tolerant of all people and not mean-spirited, there's not much I can't say (electronically) in front of my boss.

HOWEVER...

I'm wondering if I'm the only one who feels they have different representations of themselves (all parts of me, yet none of them reflecting every single aspect of my personality) on different social media platforms. My LinkedIn personality is smart, mature, and reveals a PR pro with skills, experience, and a good network of connections. She's a career-oriented go-getter with a passion for social media, PR, and smart business strategies--definitely an accurate reflection of who I am.

My Facebook personality is sassy, cute, fun-loving, and dedicated to maintaining friendships. She's the one you'd see letting her hair down (responsibly, of course) after work. She makes plans to get together for coffee and brunch, she is keeping up with what her friends are doing--'Like'-ing their statuses and links, commenting on their photos, RSVPing to events they invite her to. She's the one you'd meet out on the weekend, the one you'd chat with over a first date, and she's also an accurate reflection of me.

And last but not least, my Twitter personality. @emichaud. She's well-informed, keeps up with news, trends, and goings-on around her. She knows what new things are going on in her career--she'll talk about new Facebook page features, techniques for smarter PR outreach, and the tech and gadgets that make her work possible. She's talkative and effusive, and best (or maybe worst?) of all, she's not afraid to be a geek/nerd/social media addict. Decidedly NOT sexy. You might not want to date her, but she's still a big part of who I am.

With so many different social networks out there, I do find it a little tiring to keep up with having a different personality for each one. But the thing is, each of these personalities incorporates a part of the real me. None of them are fake. I'm certainly not going to give up my presence on any of the sites, and I'm not an advocate of mapping posts from one service over to the others (i.e. having all of my tweets posted as statuses on LinkedIn or Facebook). Guess I'll have to keep juggling until I start tweeting in my sleep or completely lose my mind. 

Until then, if you're looking for a date, you should really be keeping up with my Facebook relationship status. You can even use that creepy new tool, the Breakup Notifier, if you absolutely must. My LinkedIn personality is too busy focusing on her career right now, and my Twitter handle is already in a committed relationship with AdAge, Apple, hashtags, Mashable, TechCrunch, and PRNewser. Better luck next time. 

Today, I want to write about a place that's very near and dear to my heart: Harvard University. Nestled in the heart of Cambridge, MA, a quick T ride from downtown Boston, and home to many, many former high school valedictorians. Harvard boasts a gorgeous campus, top-notch professors, historic architecture (including a dining hall that looks like Hogwarts), and one of the best financial aid programs in the country. It's constantly listed in the top ten schools in its category by US News and World Report and the Princeton Review. Attending Harvard undergrad was one of the best experiences of my life thus far--I had a great four years there. I learned a lot (both inside and outside the classroom), made some great friends, and got the chance to take classes that completely blew my mind and changed my outlook on the world. Cheesy, yes, but it was everything a college experience should be. 

Navigating the world as a Harvard student or a Harvard grad, however, can be tricky. While most of my friends from college are humble and hard-working, there are people out there who give us funny looks when we "drop the H-bomb", the euphemism many of us use to refer to the first time we have to tell a new acquaintance where we went to school. They often assume the worst: that we're snobby, entitled, old-monied, and grade-inflated. Hardly a stereotype I want to have to combat the first time I meet someone.

These assumptions aren't always misguided: there are a ton of stories I could tell of fellow Harvard grads who have acted like egotistical jerks and have a superiority complex. Just this week, I was at my weekly trivia game and found out in the worst way possible that most of the team sitting next to us were fellow Harvard alums. A tough question came up, to which our team didn't know the answer (hey, I'm not Alex Trebek here, people), but the team of Harvard alums did. When my teammate casually asked them how they'd known the answer, phrasing his question in a complimentary way, they acted like it was obvious how they knew. "We went to Harvard, so of course we knew the answer," they said. Verbatim. You can't make this stuff up. While my non-Harvard teammates looked at each other with disgust, I found myself repeating the apology I've made many times: "I'm sorry, I promise we're not all like that. Really."

Pop culture doesn't make it any easier to combat these negative stereotypes. By now I'm sure you've all seen The Social Network and its lovely illustration of Mark Zuckerberg, the Winklevoss twins, and the final club members Eduardo Saverin desperately wanted to fit in with. It's pretty hard to claim Harvard kids are nice, humble, and earned their spot at the school with hard work instead of Dad's money when you're watching those guys on screen, acting like, well, egotistical jerks with a superiority complex. Sadly, I'd be lying if I said I didn't know anyone who those based-on-a-true-story characters resembled. I met my fair share of nose-in-the-air, crew-rowing, old-monied guys who wouldn't think twice about answering "because you go to BU" to a girl asking them why they think she doesn't have to study.

I actually know guys who talk like the cinema version of Mark Zuckerberg. Scary, huh?

But for every single BU-disparaging snob at the school, there are three or four who come from your average family, who worked their butts off in high school to get good grades and high SAT scores, who are benefiting from Harvard's completely-need-based financial aid program who are humble and without question deserve recognition for the achievements they've had both before and during their time at the college. They're amazing and special in a way that makes it impossible to hate them. Unfortunately, these students, accepted students, and alums are usually the ones who have the hardest time "dropping the H-bomb", knowing that for others it will always conjure up those images of an Old Boys' Club. In reality, these people are the ones who should be most proud to tell people they attended Harvard. 

Urban dictionary's definition of "dropping the H-bomb" points out another fact: that announcing Harvard as one's alma mater goes over much better when the name-dropper is a dude. While I'm still too young to know if Harvard will decrease my chances of ever getting married, I do know that Urban Dictionary kinda has a point: some girls from Wellesley and BU and other Boston schools do flock to Harvard Square on the weekends to party with Harvard's male population. 

After about 6 years of "dropping the H-bomb", I've decided I'm over it. I'm done dancing around the question, telling people I went to school in Boston or Cambridge instead of naming the specific academic institution. I'm going to ignore the stereotypes and come out as a Harvard alum when people ask. I'll stop apologizing for my fellow alums who act like jerks and trust that people who are intimidated or put off by it aren't worth apologizing to. No more blushing when one of my wingwomen announces it to the guy I'm chatting up at a party. I'm proud of how hard I worked in school to get accepted there, and I'm proud of how hard I worked while I was in college to graduate and get that piece of paper with Harvard's name. 

So what if some of my classmates were jerks like the cinema version of Mark Zuckerberg and the Winklevoss twins? I'm going to venture out in my Harvard apparel without fear.  Boys who are intimidated or annoyed by the name on my diploma need not apply. Everyone else, don't worry--I'll only judge you if you tell me you went to Yale ;-)

For those of us who are active Twitter users (a group that includes my co-workers, many others in the marketing sector, the media contacts we pitch, and the bloggers who write posts to teach us more about our line of work), it's easy to see the benefits of using the social networking/microblogging service. We can share info with other users, read the content they post, engage in conversations we'd never be able to have through other media, and even make new friends. I'm the first person to admit that I'm a bit Twitter-obsessed and have tried (not always successfully) to convince all of my friends and relatives to become active users, too. And I've failed on most of those occasions--I just can't convert them!

Let's be honest, sometimes we (myself included) are a tad judgmental of those non-Twitter-savvy friends and relatives. We typically consider ourselves more in-the-know, up-to-the-moment, 'with it' than those who don't use the service. Yes, social media nerds, I'm looking at you. You've felt that twinge of expertise and superiority when someone asked you if Twitter was just "like a Facebook update" and wondered why the world would care what you ate for breakfast. Don't deny it. I'm onto you. I've been there. 

The next time that twinge comes on, though, remember this fact: only 8% of internet users have a Twitter account. This statistic, from a recent study by the PEW Internet and Life Project published in December 2010 (and cited by TIME in the article linked here) means that a staggering 92% of people AREN'T using it. They don't see your helpful tweets sharing links to relevant industry blog posts or responding to intelligent conversations about the state of politics, the media, and, okay, what you ate for breakfast that day.

Are we to think that 92% of the population are behind the times idiots who deserve our judgment? HECK NO! I'm sure that on average, those of us who use Twitter aren't smarter, better informed, or more successful than the "silent majority"of internet users. These people are just like us in many ways, and even better: for those of us who are connected to the marketing world, they're our customers. We shouldn't be ignoring them or thinking we know better than they do. We should be learning from them. We should be figuring out how to talk to them, engage with them, and sell them our awesome stuff. If we don't, some dinosaur who's only doing print advertising has a chance to grab them first--can't have that, now, can we? Respect those customers, readers, relatives and friends for the fact that they're not as glued to their smartphones as we are, that they can enjoy a sporting event, awards show, or television premiere without the distraction of hashtags. They've got a lot of good stuff going on up there, if we can pry ourselves away from TweetDeck to listen to it.

So here's what I propose: we all make a promise to ourselves to remember that not every social network/new mobile app/shiny new internet phenomenon works for everyone's needs. And to be a little less judgy the next time we have to explain #FF to someone. We ARE the ones who attend nerdy events like tweetups, after all--who are we to act elitist when we're running around with dorky nametags that list our handles?

Let me start off by saying how much I love The Next Great Generation. It's the brainchild of Edward Boches over at Mullen, and as a self-proclaimed cheerleader for Gen Y, I highly support this initiative to:

"1. Give the up-and-coming generation a platform where they can share and develop their voice.
2. Uncover greater truths about our generation as a whole: how we feel, care, want, create, spend, love.
3. Promote new ideas and awesome talent."

If you haven't checked out the blog yet, it's worth pointing out that the posts are written by Gen Y, for Gen Y (and Gen X, Boomers, too!), and they cover pretty much every topic imaginable. TNGG will often have theme weeks that offer a variety of perspectives on important topics (their "Religion Week" back in December certainly gave me a lot to think about), and their team of contributors is diverse in both geography and background. 

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Dear 2010,

We've been through a lot together--some good times and some bad. I started a new job with you, settled into Boston with you, started to figure out how to really be a 20something with you, and moved to Charlestown with you. We made some friends together. We had a few laughs and a few tears. You taught me a lot, but now it's time to move on. 2010--it's over. 

I'm with 2011 now, and things have never been better. 

See you around, 2010.

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