I was feeling so good about time management and simplicity yesterday. Though I skipped my usual morning writing routine, I easily freed up the time later. In lieu of shopping for the gift I needed to buy, I simply ordered it online. Instead of driving the twenty minutes to and from yoga class, I opted to do my own routine by the deck door where the backyard foliage was visible and a soft breeze reached my mat. Then, rather than convincing my husband we needed to dine out because our groceries had dwindled, I found the last yellow squash in the fridge, roasted it with onion and garlic and diced tomato, and paired that with a box of gluten-free pasta lurking in the back of the pantry. It was quick and good.
All of this simplicity left me with plenty of writing time. I was on top of things. But then I did what all good procrastinators do.
I joined twitter.
I wasn’t planning to, at least not right then. But it just happened. All the other writers are doing it, right? What if it is useful to me. What if I need it?
So I started off following Stephen King and the Dalai Lama.
Then I added a news feed for those days when the news eludes me. Now I am up to the minute on the Ebola outbreak, and with an airline pilot husband who could be sent to Africa any day, this is really quite good for keeping anxieties high. Thank you, Twitter.
One hundred thirty-five thousand new twitter users sign up each day. Yesterday I became one of them. Twitter is like the ocean. Once you are in the sea of tweets, you can easily feel very, very small. Because Twitter is huge. Over six hundred million people huge.
I’ve already tweeted one of my own published articles, and I also re tweeted an article from the Huffington Post about the benefits of meditation. But I imagine people mostly don’t go to Twitter for whole articles. They go for tweets. I can hardly imagine that I’ll ever have just one line to say that is worth someone else reading. I mean 140 characters is just a thought, a micro-thought, really. A blip in brain activity. Most of my micro thoughts are probably best kept to myself.
But no worries about being out of control and bogging people down with my tweets, because I have just five followers so far. And one of them is the BostonCelticsForever, which is funny because I don’t even watch basketball. Or any sports. Ever.
But I signed up for Twellow (apparently the supporting cousin of Twitter) which allows me to join categories of interest and also add my own account for others to find. So it could turn out, eventually, to be an interesting thing, if not particularly necessary for me right now.
Fifty-eight million tweets per day in this sea of twittering. Approximately nine thousand tweets per second. And here’s how many words I got written on my book yesterday:
Today, I’m retreating from twitter. I hope the Celtics don’t miss me too much.