Thursday, February 25, 2010

Happy Birthday to Me, from Twitter

Already the day has barely begun, but the Twitter love has been pouring in cuz . . . Twitter is there for me.

In September, we had a business retreat where we closed our office and got a hotel meeting room and paid for our out of town staff to travel here. We hired a business consultant and went to work on developing strategies for growth and success in our Accounting Firm.

Are you bored yet? Cuz this is BORING!

But the consultant insisted we put a half day on the agenda to discuss Twitter and Social Networking. I refused.

“That shit’s not for us.”

“Thanks so much for the input, but we don’t have the time.”

“Wait, aren’t we paying YOU to carry out OUR agenda? No Twitter.”

“Don’t know what the fuck Twitter is, but I’m sure I don’t care.”

“FINE, is Wednesday afternoon going to work?”

So I set up my @TheDeeView account and made a commitment to tweet once a day. And I was bold and consistent. Once a day it was.

Then a few weeks later, because I am a disciplined and driven person, I made a commitment to go for twice a day. Yep, I’m that kinda girl.

And I worked it and got my first 100 followers. And called the Business Consultant to receive praise and accolades. (That is what we pay her for – praise and accolades. I’m shallow that way.)

I didn’t know to look at my name @TheDeeView to see if people were mentioning me, I didn’t thank people for following me, I didn’t know to follow back etc.

Then around Thanksgiving in the mountains, everyone locked up in a small space, too cold to go out, I felt stir crazy, so I started pulling Twitter up. And I met @RenegadeMoms. And I thought: these chicks say what I feel. What if I started saying what I feel? (Except of course, they are anonymous and I am ah . . . not. But that thought never crossed my mind.)

And that was my Twitter Turning Point. It was a downhill slalom since then. (Hey, I’m in the know. I followed the Olympics on Twitter while watching Real Housewives of OC on TIVO.)

I started to get the feel of what Twitter could actually be and found a bunch of mothers who spoke candidly about their Mommy experiences and frankly, their desire to not be with their kids, whether through hiding, drinking or throwing the children breakfast bars to shut them up. (Oh wait, that was me.) Furthermore, I just can’t take polka dots, ribbons and cute stories about spit up. I can’t. Spit up sucks. (Not that I remember. I’m very old and my kids are in elementary school, which I think is the Holy Grail of ages.) And I was unleashed. And no longer alone with my feelings of irritability, exhaustion and embarrassing thoughts about alcohol at 11 a.m.

In this journey of 140 characters I found my voice and it felt delicious. I have things to say, bitter things, angry things, food things, political things. I can use the word “fuck” and “pussy”. I have loving and nice things to say, but I save those for my kids and husband. Twitter was my “unleashing” and it changed my life.

Though I was afraid, I started a blog. And now I have a forum, with my blessed 20 something followers. (Don’t look too closely, I follow my own blog and of course, make my husband do the same!) But for me, this has unleashed the long held back, procrastinating, paralyzed writer.

And I always talked about writing a book, but now I am actually doing it. (Well, don’t get excited, most of the time I’m too busy tweeting to follow through. But I started and that matters to me.)

And I am different in relationships – speaking the truth more, being less “nicey nice”. And trust me, I still hate it when I get negative feedback, in life and on Twitter. And I am shallow and my self esteem is wrapped up in what other people think of me. (And let’s be clear. I am a pretty “out there” person, yet I still get stung easily when someone doesn’t “get” me.)

Even my family sees the change in me. My 10 year old Blondie wrote in my Birthday Card today: I love you and your personality. It lights up the whole house. You have so many friends, both here and on Twitter. I think you have these friends because you are enjoyable. (She also made mention of my big belly laugh and my zesty approach to eating, but hey!)

But instead of holding that voice back in fear, Twitter has given me a forum to shout out. And when I shout out in Twitter, it turns out it is harder to be “nice” in my real life. I am more myself. Profane, bitchy, nasty, exhausted, exasperated, bitter, overweight and Goddamned happy. I have found my voice and I like it.

Twitter has changed my life. Happy Birthday to Me.

7 comments:

  1. You have voiced so well my exact thoughts about Twitter! In the year I have been a Tweeter I have become more outspoken (because I know I am not alone) and it feels great! When I see you have a new blog entry, I click on it immediately! :) You are on my blogroll, I hope I can make it to yours one day!

    Happy Birthday!!

    Lori AKA Treehugster

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  2. I am so happy to have found you on Twitter and now your blog! Again, I hope you have a wonderful birthday! It is so great to share via Twitter and our blogs to fight the mundane and find the humour in it all!

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  3. Just stopping in from --guess where?-- Twitter to say Happy Birthday! :) Hope you're having an awesome day!

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  4. Dee Dee, you are my new inspiration! I will follow you on Twitter. I won't say fuck or pussy, but I will laugh when you do! Have a fabulous birthday, whatever your real age is!

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  5. Oh wait. I really enjoyed saying fuck and pussy. Scratch my last comment.

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  6. Nothing is more liberating than being able to say "fuck" and "pussy." I've taken to it like a bad case of tourettes. I'm with you. I've always wanted to write, and I'm finally doing it. 140 characters at a time. And sometimes a blog post. Which, by the way, should be on your blogroll, or I'm going to have to come after you with scissors. Kidding, Sweet DeeDee. xoxo

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  7. Love your blog and tweets & you are AMAZING on your blogs (I'm not allowed to say FABULOUS... too gay). But you are FUCKING AMAZING in person! LOVE you and your, um... pussy.

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Tell me what ya think, babe!