Confessions of the Twitter impaired
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
“Do you want to twitter?” I asked Husband-Head the other evening while I was reading an article in a magazine. “It seems everyone is doing it with each other.”
Husband-Head raised an eyebrow, naturally thinking I was using a code word for something else…
“Sure,” he agreed enthusiastically. “But I don’t want to do it with everyone – just you.”
Obviously, he didn’t know what it was.
“Twitter” is the latest rage in social networking. Apparently, it’s kind of a cross between blogging and texting using cell phones or the web.
Users correspond using “tweets” ” short words and sentences in a message that has a subject line which says “What are you doing?”
“A ‘tweet’?” Husband-Head said with a laugh. “As in the cartoon character ‘Tweety-Bird’?”
He then broke into the old 1950’s Bobby Day song.
I explained to him that a “tweet” could be a noun or a verb: a “dweet” as someone who sends a tweet while under the influence of alcohol and a “mistweet” is the remorse a dweet feels after sending a tweet.
These messages go to thousands, if not millions of people, who then “follow” you and you follow them, the story said.
The “What are you doing?” question kind of stumped me.
“Why would you want to tell people what you’re doing all the time?” I asked Husband-Head.
I’m flossing my teeth.
I’m eating an apple.
I’m picking my nose.
“What the hell?” I looked up at Husband-Head, totally confused. “I have no idea what this is all about or how it works.”
Obviously, I’m 21st century impaired.
I remember years ago watching my girlfriend rapidly “texting” on her cell phone when it became popular and even doing it without looking at the letters on the phone.
“My thumbs would never be able to move that fast,” I said, watching her in awe. “And I still have to sing the alphabet just to find listings in the phone book.”
I barely know how to operate my cell phone. I know how to turn it on and type in a phone number, but half the time I forget to hit “send.” And I can answer a call if I’m around when it rings, but I have no idea how to get messages.
The digital camera isn’t much better. I can take the picture and have even conquered the act of downloading it to the computer and sending it, but the instruction booklet says it can also do stuff like take movies ” something that will never happen in my lifetime…
“You need to get with the times,” one of my girlfriends advised. “I suppose you still have a rotary phone and a cassette player?”
Actually, I thought I was pretty hip when I learned how to email and had established a web site.
Blogging isn’t difficult, but I just don’t always have time for it.
Then there’s Linked In, the professional networking group and My Space.
In recent years, almost everyone is on “Facebook”…except me, of course.
However, a friend in California called me last weekend and insisted I create a Facebook page.
“I don’t know how to use my cell phone,” I reminded her. “What’s a Facebook?”
“Its a social networking site that I want you to be on,” she persisted. “All our high school friends are on it. Get your husband to set you up.”
I wasn’t sure he knew much more about it then I did.
“Isn’t Facebook that site that all the young kids are on?” Husband-Head asked. “Are you sure the site for people over 40 isn’t called ‘FaceLIFT’?”
So now I have a Facebook page and people whom I don’t remember from high school are becoming my “friends” (even though we weren’t necessarily so back then) and I’ve been invited to join “Mafia Wars” ” whatever that is ” and “poke” people, which doesn’t sound nasty.
I can’t wait to learn how to “twitter.”
Heidi Rice is a staff reporter for the Post Independent. Her column runs every Friday. Her book collection of columns, “Skully Says Shut it!” is available at the Post Independent or on her website at http://www.heidirice.com.
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