June 16, 2013

All @-Twitter In Spite of My Damn Self

(art by Alexsandro Palombo: http://www.alexsandropalombo.com)
I have to admit I've been dragged kicking and screaming into the world of Twitter. I mean, I have a hard enough time justifying our spending precious time on Facebook or Linked In with our closest 800 friends when we could be reading a good book (like the amazing one I'm reading now between phone calls: Disaster Was My God by Bruce Duffy, a novel based on the life of flash-in-the-pan mad-genius-poet Rimbaud). And anyone who knows me well, such as the members of my writing groups, will attest to the fact that expressing any thought in 140 characters or less is like having a root canal for me.

But recently I've been problem-solving how to improve my client numbers and when even my career-coach-slash-therapist asked "are you tweeting?"--and even though I found myself thinking 'oh come on at 65 years of age what do YOU really know about social media?'--I decided to give Tweeting a try for at least a few weeks.

My wife and I have little television program compatibility other than Project Runway, and so as I am watching Project Runway Australia Season 3 for the fourth time it dawns on me I could be multitasking to make this questionable use of quality(?) time with my spouse more rewarding. That's when I pick up my iPhone and start the Twitter dance with a big sigh.

Well. I can tell you why people half my age find it addicting. If you follow enough organizations that post information pertinent to your own interests, the speed with which you pick up followers merely for retweeting someone else's clever or useful web link is both astonishing and falsely back-patting. "Oh I am so clever," I think, when in celebration of Father's Day, I retweet a link to someone else's essay on dumb things their father has said to them on family vacations, and my phone bleeps two new Twitter followers within seconds.

I can see this being like playing Dungeons and Dragons in the 1980s with my artist friends. Our imaginations, the five of us so hot and fresh out of art school to begin with, could get almost too completely immersed in a world as interesting (if not more so) than Game of Thrones. Often, after too many glasses of wine at one of these gatherings, I'd arrive home alone in the wee morning hours. I would push my key into the keyhole and find myself thinking ridiculous thoughts like, "Oh. be careful! Might be an axe-yielding goblin on the other side of that door....Oh wait. This is REAL life. Ha ha ha. Silly me." And then I would stumble safely into my studio apartment and clap on the lights.

But I have to admit, it feels useful (Twitter, not Dungeons & Dragons). From reading tweets within the last 24 hours, for instance, I have learned the following:
I find I can even now forgive a friend of mine who, when out to dinner in a group, has a tendency during any lull in the conversation to start skimming through the tweets she follows on her phone and telling us what her other friends are saying right now in binary versus English or Spanish.  Now that I think about it, it does usually get the conversation going again. So...I guess I really do recommend Twitter. Still,  I'll have to keep you posted, since I have in the past sometimes been called a flash-in-the-pan mad-genius-social-media player-poet. And...I am easily distracted.

LMFAO 24x7 ... 


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