Wednesday, July 14, 2010

“Wait a minute! Am I being Punk’d? Oh my god! Ashton, you really got me! Ha Ha! Ashton! Ashton?”

Remember when I wrote about how I don’t volunteer for stress? Remember how I made a no-laptop resolution? Remember just last week when I wrote about not being a good plate spinner? On the very day I wrote the latter post, I signed up for Twitter, something I promised myself a few months back that I would not do.

It’s something I (thought I) definitively decided after reading this post by Sue at Navel Gazing. At the time, just reading about all of that made me break out in a cold sweat and want to go hide in my closet.

And then. . . and then, I just couldn’t sit still and had to interject myself into a Twitter conversation about breastfeeding. Nothing LLL-ish or controversial or too overly interjectory. . . just trying to be helpful. Just offering my two cents. Because I’m a giver. And, also, because I’m all about the information. Either way, I totally drank the Twitter flavored KoolAid. And had buyer’s remorse for my trouble.

The morning after, when I was 6 or so hours more rested than when I clicked “Sign Up”, I started to feel it. Anxiety. With a capital “A”. I felt like I had just been press ganged onto the Twitt-ship. And not only did I have a wicked-bad case of stage fright, but I was balking at the task, wanting to retreat back into my smallish, quiet, untwittered corner of the world, where I relish (nay, bathe in) my anonymity. A world where I am not expected to do too much, except show up around here every once in a while, and where I can take as many breaks as I want before galumphing back on my own timetable. That’s how a blog is, see. But, c’mon. . . Twitter? It’s all “You’re a monkey, Derek! Dance, monkey, dance!!” (shameless movie reference #12,097)

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for a little attention now and then. I even told Rude Cactus that I’d probably die without the internet, seeing how I’m addicted to Google and e-love in the form of comments and e-mails. (And yes, I said “tweets”, but blast if I wasn’t already having second thoughts about that. . . ) But, I’m also the kind of person who goes on vacation and walks away from GoogleReader, FaceBook, my cell phone, texting, e-mail, the iPod – all of it – without any serious withdrawals. I'm also the kind of person who, when my sis shows me her fancy new phone with all its apps and e-mail access and fancy accessories, eyes it suspiciously while simultaneously backing away slowly and willing my heart rate back down to previously unanxious levels. (tweet: @Information "Chuy, I love you, but I don't love you like that!") (s.m.r. #12,098)

(I'm also the kind of person who prefers to use cash over debit because it makes me feel "off the grid" but then I go and mess it up by using my credit cards routinely.) (don't get me started on conspiracy theories about just how much the government can/might already track every move we make because of the electronic trail we leave 24 hours a day. . . ) (trust me, you don't want to go there.)

I’m considering the possibility that breastfeeding is the source of all my internet troubles. After all, 20-30 minutes of being forced to sit in one place, connected to a pump, only one hand free to do much of anything. . . what else am I supposed to do? (Just so you know: occasionally, I do read a book rather than a blog during these times. Or I update my babe’s photo album or first year calendar. But it’s hard to turn a book with one hand. Ditto for putting photos in photo albums and updating calendars. Just so you know.)

Like any addict who’s toed the line and just stepped over, my new tweeting portal has me more anxiety ridden than ever. Fearing my potential of becoming a tweeting twit – or worse, my potential for being sucked, body and soul, into my computer screen never again to be heard or seen – I’m having second thoughts. Delete-my-account kind of second thoughts. (Me? Yeah. In desperate need of a digital vacation, I am.)

What do you think? Is it possible to form a loving relationship with Twitter?

[Title quote is from "Just Friends"]

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