My name is M, and I am a Twitter-holic.
I have an unfortunate habit of creating social media obsessions. Facebook landed on the mainstream internet radar during my freshman year of college in 2004. I was the first of my friends to join. I check Gmail non-stop (literally, with my iPhone synced to my account). I was a Livejournal addict during high school. I owned a Casio My Magic Diary during second grade. My mother claims I played with a Sesame Street Big Bird “computer” as a toddler. I have technology obsession issues (but so does my Dad. He still owns the original brick-sized iPod).
When Twitter came around, I joined for the sake of this blog. I thought it’d be a good marketing tool to keep readers up to speed with new posts. I initially scoffed at my personal account. Who really cares if I just ate sushi? Just took a bubble bath? Likes that it’s a sunny day? Has a case of the Mondays?
Who cares, I ask? I do. Apparently. After a few weeks of neglecting my Twitter account, I started updating on my iPhone on the subway ride to work. Then I linked it up to my Facebook status so the pesky, always-crashing Facebook mobile site is nothing but a distant memory to me and my iPhone. Mom told me that my aunt reads my Twitter page regularly. This kind of scared me and I went back through to make sure that all tweets were family-appropriate (a good idea for anyone who hasn’t done so already).
Then I started following celebrities on Twitter. Pete Wentz (who seems to never log off of Twitter, does anyone think this pesters Ashlee?). Kim Kardashian. Paris Hilton. Lindsay Lohan (a personal favorite of mine and friend L). I tracked down old friends, exes and friendemies alike on Twitter. The best (and worse) part? Like my aunt, I can read their tweets without even adding them as a friend, (or “follow them” in Twitter-speak). It’s the ultimate stalking tool. This makes me wonder who is actually reading mine. Are you?
Now I tweet throughout the day. I tweet when I’m bored. I tweet when I’m eating. I tweet on dinner dates with my boyfriend. I know it’s rude, but he’s used to it. “My little online socialite,” he told me yesterday when I quickly hopped on Twitter before leaving the apartment for a day trip. Hearing that was nothing but music to my ears.
-M
I have an unfortunate habit of creating social media obsessions. Facebook landed on the mainstream internet radar during my freshman year of college in 2004. I was the first of my friends to join. I check Gmail non-stop (literally, with my iPhone synced to my account). I was a Livejournal addict during high school. I owned a Casio My Magic Diary during second grade. My mother claims I played with a Sesame Street Big Bird “computer” as a toddler. I have technology obsession issues (but so does my Dad. He still owns the original brick-sized iPod).
When Twitter came around, I joined for the sake of this blog. I thought it’d be a good marketing tool to keep readers up to speed with new posts. I initially scoffed at my personal account. Who really cares if I just ate sushi? Just took a bubble bath? Likes that it’s a sunny day? Has a case of the Mondays?
Who cares, I ask? I do. Apparently. After a few weeks of neglecting my Twitter account, I started updating on my iPhone on the subway ride to work. Then I linked it up to my Facebook status so the pesky, always-crashing Facebook mobile site is nothing but a distant memory to me and my iPhone. Mom told me that my aunt reads my Twitter page regularly. This kind of scared me and I went back through to make sure that all tweets were family-appropriate (a good idea for anyone who hasn’t done so already).
Then I started following celebrities on Twitter. Pete Wentz (who seems to never log off of Twitter, does anyone think this pesters Ashlee?). Kim Kardashian. Paris Hilton. Lindsay Lohan (a personal favorite of mine and friend L). I tracked down old friends, exes and friendemies alike on Twitter. The best (and worse) part? Like my aunt, I can read their tweets without even adding them as a friend, (or “follow them” in Twitter-speak). It’s the ultimate stalking tool. This makes me wonder who is actually reading mine. Are you?
Now I tweet throughout the day. I tweet when I’m bored. I tweet when I’m eating. I tweet on dinner dates with my boyfriend. I know it’s rude, but he’s used to it. “My little online socialite,” he told me yesterday when I quickly hopped on Twitter before leaving the apartment for a day trip. Hearing that was nothing but music to my ears.
-M
