Showing posts with label Neiman Marcus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Neiman Marcus. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Twitter or Neiman Marcus?

 I'm a "Twitterholic." There I've said it. Yet strangely I don't feel any better, but itchy to get back to it.  Yes, I'm the same person who thought "Twitter" was a neurological condition and anyone who "tweeted" should seek immediate medical attention or take up residence in a bird sanctuary. I felt inept, lonely and useless because I had no ability to participate in the new "social media" world. I could barely figure out Facebook. The pressure of finding "friends" made me anxious and break-out. What if you have no friends? Or just three and they're not Facebooking -is it a new verb? What if you have a page that's blank except for your lone photo? OMG what is worse than that except being back in high school? And what about the pictures and photo albums everyone posts? I'm a photo album loser and don't have a digital camera. My last camera was a Brownie.

I had to take serious stock of myself. If I couldn't Facebook how could I possibly join "Twitter" a site that demands you express yourself in 140 characters. "Hey, I have a lot to say I absolutely refuse to shorten my sentences and write in initials or emoticoms. As fate and horror would have it my literary agent Laurie told me I had to hightail it into the 21st century join Twitter and have followers. It sounded scary and oddly liturgical. Martini in hand www.gonepausal.com joined.

I've become a Twitter junkie. It's fun, it's easy and who needs 140 characters? It's too many. I can now express myself in under 100. Sometimes I have 130 left over. I wonder if you can sell them on eBay? I have 450 "followers" so far and thankfully they never want to come over. I'm tweeting with people I've never met from countries I've never heard of. It's endlessly entertaining and time filling. I can barely pull the Twitter needle out of my arm long enough to walk the dog. He hates Twitter. I've stopped longing to go shoe shopping. The Mother Ship, Neiman Marcus calls to me from right up Michigan Ave. but the Twitter force is strong. Thankfully I am weak and want shoes more than emoticoms.