Welcome to Bluesky, but Maybe Take it Down a Notch?
“Over the past week, Bluesky’s growth has exploded, more than doubling to 15 million-plus users as people seek alternatives to X, Facebook, and Threads.”
— New York Times
Wow, hi. Overnight, I’ve gone from the girl who sits alone at lunch to the azure butterfly of your dreams. So, before things go any further, let’s make sure we start on the right digital foot.
First of all, it’s not pronounced “Blue-ski.” You all have been watching too much TV with your toddlers. My name is pronounced “Blue-sky,” which rhymes with “to-die,” as in Twitter died, so now there are over 15 million of you here, and my servers are about to explode like a SpaceX Starship test flight.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered by this surge of attention. But I’m not interested in being your social media rebound. I took a ride on this same rollercoaster back when Elon first bought Twitter (excuse me, “Xitter,” as in “Elon flushed that site down the Xitter”). I haven’t forgotten the giddy “just leaving this here” Bluesky handle reveals on X or the cool kids giving out my exclusive invites that were harder to come by than a Soho House membership.
I remember the first time some of you skeeted on me—it was so exciting! But then you didn’t sign in again for months.
You think I don’t know you used to call me Kirkland-brand Twitter? But now you claim to adore my feeds with no ads, early aughts social media vibes, and carefully curated block lists. The truth is you barely know me. Maybe don’t love bomb me so hard when I haven’t even validated your handle yet.
In the spirit of taking things slow, I’ve coined the term “starter pack” to mark a new beginning for us, even though I’ve been hanging around the App Store hoping you’d glance in my direction for the past couple of years. So, go ahead and follow everyone on this collection of pro-choice Renaissance art restorationists who have strong feelings about cheese. I’m giving you a golden opportunity to connect with your people, build beautiful bridges across the globe, and—oh hell, who am I kidding, I’m still social media at the end of the day. But at least I’m not owned by a megalomaniac.
And sorry about all the crashes. In my defense, I wasn’t designed for this big a wave of new subscribers. I’m holding myself together with scotch tape, faith in a decentralized social network, and a few lines of code that Jack Dorsey thought of in the shower. So, yeah, there will be more glitches. Remember that time in high school when your parents went out of town, and you decided to have a few friends over, only to find yourself accidentally hosting a rager for the entire junior class? Oh, you were never that popular? Me neither. Maybe now you can understand why I had a panic attack when my body count reached eight figures.
I hope you’ll still be interested once you see my many quirks. For instance, I won’t let you heart someone’s DM, I was a tad late in regulating all those nude pics, and your handles on me are longer than Mary Poppins’s favorite word. But let’s be real: What are your other options? X is basically third-rate Truth Social, Mastodon was extinct upon arrival, and a lot of you aren’t photogenic enough for Instagram. I’m far from perfect, but you and I know I’m the best game in town right now.
Look, I don’t want to be your “find me on the other place”; I want to be your main place. Okay, yes, I’m not really a place at all, but you know what I mean. Because when it comes to broadcasting your pithy hot takes to a bunch of internet strangers, the sky’s the limit.
So let’s do this. Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to skeet free.