My "Twit" Moment

My 'Twit' Moment

I do graphic design for a living and know almost all the Adobe software and about five or six other pieces of software as well. I consider this impressive since I never went to school for design and my first design job, I didn't even know where the "on" switch was on a mac. Equally as impressive is the fact that I was raised with no television or radio, and went to school in the time when we learned to type on manual typewriters.

I had had a myspace page for a couple of years, recently joined LinkedIn and had just finished a fairly good start on my Facebook page. I regularly checked in on my Foursquare account so people would know where I was and realize that I did in fact, have a social life.

Then I kept having people ask me to go onto their "Twitter".  I nodded and agreed to but was beginning to feel technologically overwhelmed about everyone knowing things about me and me finding out too much about them.

My roommate and my oldest friend, Alicia, came home one night carrying groceries. As she set them down on the counter, she patiently moved my dirty dishes to the side. Without words, she had been attempting the last couple weeks to point out that she had drawn an invisible line on the granite countertop that she would really appreciate me not crossing. My therapist says I test people to see how much they love me. This girl must love me like a sister.

"Hey, do you 'twit'?" I asked, swirling my red wine in my glass like a pro attempting to let my $6 bottle of gas station-bought wine "breath".

"Do I what?"

"Twit?"

I saw her hands hesitate for a moment over a jar of red sauce before she answered.

            "Do you mean 'do I tweet'?"

I took a sip of wine and wrinkled up my forehead in confusion. I caught myself in the forehead wrinkle, reminded myself no one looks good with a Shar Pei forehead, furiously rubbed at my skin, and then shook my head.

            "But it's called 'Twitter', so wouldn't you 'twit'?"

I have to give Alicia credit for not bursting into laughter now that I know all about it. However, she understands being raised in a conservative, Bible-believing, you are all wrong and going to hell and we are all right and going to heaven background since she had been in one herself. So there were a lot of things I got wrong.

            "No, you 'tweet', like a bird. You saw their logo? It's a bird."

I did remember something like that.

            "Oh, huh."  I thought for a moment longer.

            "I couldn't feel more ancient."

            "What?"

            "You know, how old people call it 'the Facebook' or 'the MySpace'?"

            "Yeah."

I poured another glass of wine that almost reached to the top of the rim, sighed dramatically, and started to walk out of the room.

            "I'm getting old, Alicia."

            "Yep."

As I left the room, I called back to her, "At least I didn't ask you if you 'twat'."

I heard the cupboard door slowly close.

            "Yep, at least you didn't say that. Good stuff."