So, this Twitter thing is sort of over, huh? After talking about it for weeks, my best friend, Tracey, convinced me to join last week so we won’t become those old ladies who wear Winnie the Pooh t-shirts, still listen to Poison, and are afraid of the Internet.
I added the 36 suggested people from my Gmail contacts, and 17 of them have added me back. SEVENTEEN! The other 20 of them haven’t logged into Twitter since August.
The problem is that I think I really like Twitter now. I didn’t see the point of it before, what with my writing dissertation-length diatribes here and all, but now I see that Twitter challenges me to be a better writer by forcing me to cram all of my brilliant thoughts into 140 characters. Or to be willing to separate them into twenty different tweets of 140 characters each. Doesn’t that sound great?!
Plus, I like the interface, and I like that I have so many fewer friends on there than on Facebook that I have some interest in keeping up. At this point, I actually care what my Twitter friends are saying, notice when they say something about me, and care to reply to them. Some of them are actually clever enough that I want to retweet their tweets! I was so busy being annoyed that CNN and Ashton Kutcher thought anyone cared what they said that I totally missed the boat. Sort of like the way I might someday actually watch any of the Star Wars movies and find out they’re not lame.
There’s also Bachelor Girl! And Noel! And Tessa! And Aaron! And Serial Monogamist! And Nat! And those are the only people I’ll imagine you’ll know, but you should add them all, because I want all of my friends to be friends with all of my other friends.