At a recent social gathering there was a consensus of horror when I revealed my phone. It is a complete brick, a rubber one at that, for no matter how many times I have gone at its life, it has bounced back. The complete shockwave of horror that swept over the pub, like a sub-woofing nuclear wave, was not due to the phone’s hideousness, but because people had presumed me to be an iPhone owner!
I would like to think this is because I am cutting edge with technology, because of my complete hipster status or due to the slick and geeky way I dress (i’m more Frank Butcher meets Cyndi Lauper). In fact, the ONLY reason people thought I was iEndowed was because of my high twitter mileage. Yep, I like to tweet!
I believe there is a little twitter star of glory within us all. I believe following the ‘right’ people (a heady blend of indy creative and journos who will NEVER return the favour) and ‘right’ sites can enhance your life and career no end. You just have to direct the glow. It’s not all comedic cats and food-headed dogs. If worked properly (like one works the room at a cocktail party of important people; still on my to-do list) productivity can increase and procrastination can be avoided (looking at pics of shaved cats is procrastination, unless you are picture editor for Shaved Cats FM).
My twitter smugness was shocked into drama pose – back of hand on forehead – and a seriously pixelated reality check just over a fortnight ago. Encouraged by the Suzanne Moore/Julie Birchill/Transabuse saga I found myself spending what equated to full-time hours (I, who doesn’t have time to wash the pots/wash my hair/wash) darting back and forth between response articles and open letters. Hateful things had been said and I’m not fond of that! I added my rant and was not alone. Every person and their electronic dog was dibbing in. Fortunately some fantastic writers were responding excellently on the subject (see this brilliant Paris Lee piece here) but while thick in the broils of a bitter battle I saw looming real-life deadlines and actual paid work piling up. I promptly dibbed out!
I, so cocksure and on-the-ball (what a combo), had had my reins steered by passion and protest. To get all drama-queen on your ass, in truth, passion and protest is the stuff of life. But whose life? At that moment in time, not mine. I realised that I was adding nothing to the cannon of debate by tweeting like the hybrid lovechild of Stonewall and an ‘80s typing-pool superstar. I was losing money and time. Yet I’d been fuelled with energy that was a shame to waste.
So I did what any self-respecting writer would do, I made notes, proper useful, balanced notes and a plan. Then I tweeted about them. Then I saw a link to some hyper-neon running shoes. Forty minutes later I received confirmation that the trainers were on their way and that I was not, in fact, half as twiterplined as I thought. So I swiftly tweeted “You know when you realize you must try harder. That”. Follow by “You now that ‘that’ thing. I hate that”.
Today I listened to: Public Service Broadcast
Today I read: Paris Lees, Roz Kaveney and Laurie Penny as a reminder of how to write very passionate arguments about things you feel strongly about, but in a beautifully well-balanced and objective way.
Today I watched: The new video by Screaming Maldini
Quite a nice site to look at after a glass or two of wine, working our way back from the Eiffel Tower to the Marais where we stayed on the ace boat bus!