I had determined very recently that I was going to concentrate and attempt to put more of an effort into the updating of my blog. 'Write something everyday' I instructed myself, putting into effect the age-old practice of the writer’s mantra.
I do write everyday, but not for my blog, or a magazine, or my novel. I am sorry to admit, but I have been seduced by the 140-character count of Twitter. Not only does this seducer stop me from practicing my prose but it also lays waste to my spelling, syntax, and grammar, which needed work to begin with.
I am no longer a slave to the doctrines of my English professor. Twitter awaits me whenever I call, just like the friend who is always available. Twitter keeps me company on the bus, on the train, and sssh, dare I mention it, in the loo. Well, the loo is usually a last resort when I have been threatened with ex-communication or, gawd forbid, the confiscation of my iPhone by zealous family and friends who demand more of my attention.
It is not a cigarette, a mickey of vodka, or even a measure of some illegal substance, which has me scurry into the corners, intent on indulging myself. It is simply ‘Twitter’ the heart of my mobile device unit.
When I press that little blue application icon, I feel like Norm must have felt when he walked through the doors of Cheers every night to be greeted by friends who exist outside the usual perimeters of his everyday life.
Twitter keeps me coming back for more with the promise of more followers, the lure of reply tweets, the underground world of DMs, and the latest gossip on any topic my heart desires. Thrown into the heady mix is the potential to hob knob up close and personal with some celebrity or other.
I reckoned my poor wee blog had been left out in the cold to slowly slide down the search engine ranks of google. But I needn’t have worried; my seducer knew how to provide for its predecessor. A link was inserted, a bone if you may, to appease any competition from my blog to regain my full attention. Twitter now thoughtfully provides constant pings to my neglected blog letting it know that I am not too far away. With no more content than a changing blurb in the bottom left-hand corner I supply my blog with enough updates to keep it ahead of the google rat race. But I know I must return every now and then, whenever Twitter’s 140-character count frustrates and limits my ability to run free and fully express myself, in unabbreviated, fully typed words of undeterminable size. No cryptic messages. Only clear concise prose extolling a written form of communication more ancient than Twitter.
After I have scaled the 500 word, 1000 word, 2000 word barrier, I am once more compelled to rush back to my Twitter congregation and share the fruits of my latest adventure because Twitter requires fresh subject matter to keep my followers interested, even if I must make tale of my latest adventure in 140 characters or less.
I do write everyday, but not for my blog, or a magazine, or my novel. I am sorry to admit, but I have been seduced by the 140-character count of Twitter. Not only does this seducer stop me from practicing my prose but it also lays waste to my spelling, syntax, and grammar, which needed work to begin with.
I am no longer a slave to the doctrines of my English professor. Twitter awaits me whenever I call, just like the friend who is always available. Twitter keeps me company on the bus, on the train, and sssh, dare I mention it, in the loo. Well, the loo is usually a last resort when I have been threatened with ex-communication or, gawd forbid, the confiscation of my iPhone by zealous family and friends who demand more of my attention.
It is not a cigarette, a mickey of vodka, or even a measure of some illegal substance, which has me scurry into the corners, intent on indulging myself. It is simply ‘Twitter’ the heart of my mobile device unit.
When I press that little blue application icon, I feel like Norm must have felt when he walked through the doors of Cheers every night to be greeted by friends who exist outside the usual perimeters of his everyday life.
Twitter keeps me coming back for more with the promise of more followers, the lure of reply tweets, the underground world of DMs, and the latest gossip on any topic my heart desires. Thrown into the heady mix is the potential to hob knob up close and personal with some celebrity or other.
I reckoned my poor wee blog had been left out in the cold to slowly slide down the search engine ranks of google. But I needn’t have worried; my seducer knew how to provide for its predecessor. A link was inserted, a bone if you may, to appease any competition from my blog to regain my full attention. Twitter now thoughtfully provides constant pings to my neglected blog letting it know that I am not too far away. With no more content than a changing blurb in the bottom left-hand corner I supply my blog with enough updates to keep it ahead of the google rat race. But I know I must return every now and then, whenever Twitter’s 140-character count frustrates and limits my ability to run free and fully express myself, in unabbreviated, fully typed words of undeterminable size. No cryptic messages. Only clear concise prose extolling a written form of communication more ancient than Twitter.
After I have scaled the 500 word, 1000 word, 2000 word barrier, I am once more compelled to rush back to my Twitter congregation and share the fruits of my latest adventure because Twitter requires fresh subject matter to keep my followers interested, even if I must make tale of my latest adventure in 140 characters or less.
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