Archive for the ‘Twittapalooza’ Category

“I felt the breeze gently caressing my cheek, as the palms rippled almost with a sigh in the breath of air that arose gently from the water…  twwooong went the.. RADAR scope from the battleship TWEETdeck! All hands on deck, all hands on deck, another Tweet has landed. Battlestations, Battlestations! Mayday! Mayday!”. I awoke with a jolt.

Week Two of Twittapalooza. I have no idea what my real name is, I only have a Twit login… “Spinbird” which I will have to go and change on my driver’s license now. Except for: I no longer drive a car, I now captain my entire life from the platform of my Tweetdeck. I have actually eaten a dog biscuit because I thought it was a cracker, and couldn’t rip my eyes away from the screen long enough to discern the canine nibble. I also have brand new sensitive feelings that I never knew existed. Did someone actually just unfollow me? For daring to reply to them? Only ONCE????! The nerve! Just who on earth do they think they are, the Queen of Sheba? (Thanks, Mom, I’ll never forget that one.)

Actually, the nuances of Twitter are myriad, and layered like an fine, expensive Merlot. The top note is a giddy rush of beautiful fruity tones, and I don’t mean the ones that followed me first. I mean the immediate rush of information that I never realized I had lived without. Need a friend? Just Tweet someone. Need a haircut? Tweet for  a recommendation. Need a gift idea? It’s there. What about every single party in town that you never knew existed? Voila- “hear HERE!” Just click, type and hit enter. (Ironically, now I get miffed when the “enter” key doesn’t automatically send an email from my Outlook, or when Facebook doesn’t post with a keystroke, but I’m sure there’s an app for that too!)

The second note is the essence of friendship that emerges when someone follows you back. This means several things: 1. You aren’t a threat, 2. You aren’t a bot, 3. You aren’t a deranged lunatic liberally sprinkling your tweets with the F-bomb/crazy stalker behavior, and my personal favorite: 4. They actually think you might have something good to say. I have personally always been the type to find the silver lining, so when my Tweeps chat back with encouragement, it really makes my day.

Then as we get a little deeper into the layers (probably a good time to swill this around) a slightly darker tone emerges. The Tweet Loop. Slightly acidic, with a hint of bitter arsenic, this is the closed loop zone, AKA the ones that will never talk to you no matter how cute, fun, tall, thin, fat, smart, dingy, blond, red-headed, or brunette you are. Yeah, we had them in high school, and we still have them online. I really thought making it to the ripe old age of 44 would eliminate some of that type of behavior. Unfortunately, I’m the one that’s 44, and they are still WAY too cool for me. Which brings me to the next note:

The sweet, lingering  finish of Twit revenge. An adorable little button called UN-follow. Since I had a great (well, really way too) many to choose from, I used an app called Tweepi- incredible for sorting out the miscreants in a plethora of giggle-inducing ways. Not enough following being done on your part? Unfollow YOU, you buffalo-headed narcissist! Too long since you tweeted? Unfollow YOU, you toe-jam sucking SLOTH! Too many followers to ever notice? Well, Unfollow THOU, since you won’t even notice that I’m gone.  (Except you, Pioneer Woman… I am too addicted to your food to ever go away!) Now, if we could just publish our unfollow lists, like writing a bad kid’s name on the board…maybe the world would become a better place… just wishful thinking.

Yes, Twittapalooza is well on its way to being the best experiment ever, and I have learned much along the way. The bottom line: People are people, whether it’s with a mouse or in a house. Now that I’m sounding like Dr. Seuss, I am stepping away from the computer. Have a Twitteriffic night!


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Old dogs, new tricks. Enter the incredibly and increasingly bizarre world of Social Marketing/ networking/ whole new level of etiquette that Emily Post couldn’t have ever dreamed of in her most Orwellian nightmare. It’s here to stay, so get on the train, or get left in the dust.

This new obsession began innocently enough with a little Facebook page. Find a few friends, a few more find me, and away we all go. Then, a cop in my small home town with nothing to do (did I say small town? Let’s call it micro.) on his nightly beat except sit in his blue and white with his laptop, decided to start reuniting our ENTIRE graduating class. Continuously. Every single day, there would sit my burgeoning inbox groaning at the seams from JON… who suggests that I should “friend” so and so, and so on and so on.

Sidebar: I wasn’t the most popular kid on high school, and there were a lot of those people that I just didn’t care for then, and I still don’t like em now. (Cough- Amy Burgess)

Well, here goes nothing, at least it started out as fun to see who had bangs in high school, but who doesn’t even have a hairline now. Sorry to say, from the headshots provided, you can’t see a huge butt, but (always wanted to write that) I’m sure there are a few. It makes our reunions anti-climactic, but it’s good to have a healthy dose of friends.

Facebook got so busy for me, that on a recent snow day, my darling Steve suggested that I start a facebook page for our new puppy, Ray. Giggling from the idiocy of becoming one of those “dog” people, as well as the 3 glasses of snow evening wine, I hacked out a page for my dog. Then found the little bugger some friends. Then posted some more, then realized: “OMG, this is really fun, and hence, Ray Slaton Peacock the Burlesque Basset was born. Pseudonym? Maybe. Alter-ego? Even better. Nothing quite makes acidic humor as sweet as dripping it out of a cute widdle puppy mouth.

Well, as the social monster grew inside of my brain, so did the incessant need for even more contact. (Not really, but the dialogues were probably good for me.) Since I’ve always been a stifled writer, I started blogging, and to promote it, got even deeper into the facebook thing. New pages, constant status updates, my butt now has the unmistakable shape of my super comfy Office Max computer chair. And, just when I thought it was pretty intense:

Enter Twitter.

Now, Twitter goes hand in hand with Facebook. You’ve seen all of the social pages that scream “Follow us on Facebook and Twitter”, but I thought Twitter was for kids and slow people that can’t think beyond 140 characters. Plus, without a long page to promote all of your latest musings, pictures, and general BS- what good was it? I couldn’t have been more wrong wearing white patent leather hooker heels in a southern December Sunday school class.

So, on Monday, I set out to proclaim my Twitter presence. One, two, TWEET- nothing happened.  Probably because I only had about 9 followers, and 8 of them had given up on it like me. Okay, so I needed followers to be heard. “How do I get followed” I asked myself. “FOLLOW some people” self answered. (Developing Schizophrenia amongst ourselves is another post) It made sense to me, so I started following every interesting person I could find with the people search “stressed out” that the screen proclaimed. And, a funny thing happened- suddenly my inbox was full again just like good old Jon the cop was pushing it with tweets instead of friend requests.

Pretty soon, I had about 200 followers, and was following about 1,000 people. The tweets were pouring in. And, I mean POURING in. A deluge, a frogstrangling plethora of tidal tweets. Quick- I had to get something to manage all of those tweets, or I would have to throw my PC out the window after smashing it with a sledgehammer.  (Insert pic of bulging eyes and frothing mouth here.) Just like a mosh pit at a skanky alternative nineties outdoor concert, the characters were all there, gnashing teeth, biting hair, twirling like dandelions on mushrooms, all the while breathlessly tweeting and retweeting as fast as I could read type and send! Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh! I can’t take it!

And then, the sky opened up with  a beautiful shaft of promising sunlight called Tweetdeck, and organization became effortless. Now, I have all of these tweets and mentions and RT (retweets) and DMs (direct messages) and #hashtags and suggestions on one manageable pane. The intensity is still here, but with an organized grip on it, Tweeting is definitely the way to go to meet people that I will never get to meet otherwise.

Now, I have to go and paint, because one of my FOLLOWERS wants some art for his coffee shop!

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