Oh, hello! Come in for some cornbread. It’s still warm.
Anyone who talks to me knows that I love me some Twitter. I spend way too much time on it and tweet about anything. Well, maybe not anything. I don’t reveal anything about farting or pooping or my (lack of) sex life. I think Twitter is fun and a good distraction.
What I don’t like, and has really been irritating me lately, is when other Tweeters bitch/moan/complain about, or generally belittle their parents/spouse/kids. I get that there are frustrations and people need a place to vent. But I don’t know if Twitter is an appropriate forum for that. In my opinion, talking about people you love in that way, in such a public forum, shows an enormous lack of respect, both for them and for yourself. Actually, talking about them in that manner in any forum is disrespectful. I can see venting to your friends when necessary. We need to be able to release frustrations, but some of what I’ve seen on Twitter is beyond venting. It makes me extremely uncomfortable.
Also what I’ve seen is people tweeting about REALLY intimate things. Beyond farting and pooping. (Hee… “pooping” is a funny word!) I don’t know that I need or want to hear about your sex lives and who (or what) you are hooking up with or anything else along those lines. Again, I think there is a time and a place for that, and a public forum like Twitter, in my opinion, isn’t it.
And finally, the cussing! Don’t get me wrong – I can and do cuss with the best of them. I’m not necessarily proud of that, and I’m conscious of it, but that’s what it is. I also try to be aware of my audience. If I don’t know how people feel about swearing, I try to keep my mouth in check. People on Twitter? Not so much. And if it offends even me? It’s got to be pretty extreme.
So, given all this, you are probably asking: If you don’t like all this stuff about Twitter, why the heck do you stay on it? Well, the above “irritants” don’t happen all the time. And the people who post the things that irritate me don’t post things like that all the time. Much of the time these tweeters are funny and clever and nice.
What’s a girl to do? Do I give up Twitter to avoid this type of tweet? Do I unfollow them to avoid seeing them? What is the protocol? If I unfollow them, they will reciprocate. Do I care? Do I just accept that people talk badly about people they love and ignore it? Do I only read the tweets that mention me? Do I point out to them when it happens?
What would you do? What have you done? How do you handle these situations? What is the appropriate Twitter etiquette? I’d love to hear your ideas.
Oh, hello! Welcome. Come and have some beef stew.
A big Mag and Moo welcome to Fiona! HI! *waving*
So, last night, I was in that really deep sleep where waking up feels like you are swimming to the surface through melted Nutella. (Just go with it. I’m hungry.) (But… HOW GOOD WOULD THAT BE? Melted Nutella?? I’m going to have to try that now.)
Anyway. You know the kind of sleep I mean. Well, last night, as I swam to the surface, I thought I heard a very angry baby crying. I was thinking, oh, someone is so not happy. They brought the child outside. But something didn’t sound quite right. The baby’s cry didn’t have that sort of inhale pause.
So I realized it was a cat. Normally, the Wonder Twins each take up a post at the foot of my bed, like matching gargoyles. They keep me safe at night. I start to think that it is one of the Wonder Twins. OMG. What if I left the inside door to the garage open and one of them is hurt!?! I felt around with my feet and felt the 2 solid lumps. Whew.
The crying was outside. And it wasn’t just crying. It was real-live horrific screaming and crying. The poor cat had to have been terribly hurt. Just crying and screaming and wailing. So loud. So forlorn. My heart was breaking. I thought I should get up and go see if I could find the poor little nugget. But, really. What would I do then?
The crying stopped. Whew. But no. Whatever had done the damage came back. There was one final loud cry. Then everything was quiet.
I have no idea what became of the little critter. Or what set the whole thing off.
But I do know that hearing that noise that reached into my head and heart is something I hope to never hear again. It was so tragic.
I get that wild things act like wild things and survival of the fittest and all that. But, JMJ. I gave each of the Wonder Twins an extra hard hug and extra smooch before going back to sleep. And then again before I left for work this morning. I know they sit in the window during the day and watch the world go by. And they might even want to go outside. But last night confirmed to me that having them inside, and spoiling them rotten, is the right decision. I can’t imagine one of them getting killed by something bigger and meaner and never really knowing what happened. Or having them come home, all skun up (skun? It’s a word.) (Yeah huh!) from fighting back. It would break my heart every day. I adopted them to love them.
And I hope to keep doing that for a long, long time.
RIP little wild nugget. I’m sorry it was such a painful death. 😦
This is just a bunch of whining, moaning, complaining. OMG, even *I’m* sick of me. Don’t even bother to read this. Seriously.
Oh, hello! Have a Skinny Cow ice cream cone. Yummy!
This may be a stream of consciousness type post. But I’m serious. Stop reading.
I am completely sick of myself. Have you ever gotten to that point? (You can’t answer, because you stopped reading up there when I recommended it.) Judas priest. It seems like there should be more. A better job. Less fear. More confidence – in myself, my abilities, my life. More… Just more.
And despite how much time I spend thinking about how to make that happen, or reading about how to make that happen, or wishing to make that happen, it seems that all end up doing is whining about it more. It’s like I’m sick of where I am but afraid to move on or try for more. So then it becomes my fault for not doing something, and then OH MY GOD! JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!!!!
I want to be thin. I want to write. I want to be in a happy relationship. I want I want I want. Well, then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!! STOP TALKING ABOUT IT AND JUST START.
Why is it so hard for me (or, I suspect, many people) to make changes – positive changes – in my life? Is it fear only? Fear of the unknown? Fear of leaving what is comfortable?
I mean, really. What is the worst thing that can happen? I fail? I don’t lose weight? I send out a resume and don’t hear back? SO WHAT! That doesn’t make me a bad person. At least I could say I tried.
I am so sick of being afraid. And I’m so sick of saying this over and over. And I’m so sick of wallowing in my own uncertainty. And I’m so sick of myself right now. UGH.
I need to shake this off. I need to move past this. I don’t know if putting it out here will help. God knows, I haven’t put good use to any of the 47,312 blank journals I have. I have every intention, when I buy them, to write all my deep, dark thoughts in them. Pfft. I put them on the shelf next to all the other good intentions.
But. How do I start? I feel like I am completely out of control in my life. I feel overwhelmed and at a loss. I don’t know where to start or how to start or what to start with. A plan would probably help, but I don’t even know where to start with that either!
God, I’m boring. What’s that Nike slogan? It sounds easy…. but give me a second, and I’m sure I’ll find a way to complicate it and end up completely whipped up and whimpering in the corner.