Never Say Never
I have to be careful about never because softening occasionally occurs. I resisted using the term blog for many years, until it became so pervasive that using personal website, online journal or just anything else sounded as antiquated as referring to an iPod as a Walkman (which I’ve been known to do unintentionally—at least I don’t call computers “the machine”). I held out on buying a cell phone until last August (I seriously use it like three times a week, kind of a waste) and at some point decided leggings weren’t the devil (but I still don’t believe they are a substitute for pants and these skintight shiny things must go away).
The only thing I can say with strong certainty is that I will never wear thongs (flip flops or flossy undergarments).
But I’ve caved on Twitter. I still think it’s asinine and do not understand why anyone wants to read non sequitur snippets from friends, family or strangers. I don’t really. Yet as each month seems to become more time-crunched, a sentence or two is sometimes all you can muster. I get that.
So, hidden halfway down my right-hand column is evidence of my potentially short-lived foray into microblogging. Tweet tweet. Please don’t hate me for succumbing.
I’m sure there’s a self-help group somewhere.
Having said that I still don’t get the tweeter thing. Then again I’m also a weirdo without a facebook account.
No way! It seems like everyone and their great grandmother is on facebook.
Anyway have fun twitting:)
Everyone’s great grandmother is there, trying to ‘friend’ their great grandkids’ most recent dates and see what is really going on…
My college age kids and their friends laugh and let them in…
Even so, despite a glorious history of scaredy-cat stalking, I’ve been unable to muster the chuzpah to create my own account and start poking around. I consider this to be less a sign of aging than an indication of improved mental health.
Following Twitterers is something else again. Who is stranger, someone who thinks their stream-of-consciousness blurps would be of interest to the world, or the world who subscribes to their stream-of-consciousness blurps?
Sanjay Subramaniam is the greatest exponent of Carnatic song in the world today. He’s been twittering about every over of the latest India-Australia cricket test for days now. It’s fascinating…
someone in st louis: my grandma posts comments on my cousin’s blog but if I’m lucky neither of them know (or care) that I exist here.
I understand the urge to blast pointless 1-2 sentence nothings into cyberspace, it’s kind of like talking to yourself (quietly). What I can’t fathom is anyone else wanting to follow/read these thoughts (mine included, of course).