Hate is a strong word, and millions of people can't be wrong so maybe it's me, but every time I sit down to tweet I get upset. We're talking temper tantrum upset. On Sunday morning Meredith asked me, "Are you going to do a morning tweet?" and I just about lost it.
Mer: It's one little sentence!
Me: It's STUPID!!!!!!
Mer: Just write one funny little hello.
Me: How about I write, "Hi, dummies. I hate twitter."
Mer: You're being ridiculous.
I'm just finding out about this deep-seated disdain. I started a twitter page a few days ago after having one of the most inspiring discussions of my life with the incredible Molly Galler. Molly is synergy personified. She talked about PR being a strategy game and discussed said strategies with an energy that was tangible. I was sold. The girl knows her stuff and can create more buzz than a can of four loko, so when she says, "Tweet!" you tweet.
However, three seconds into setting up my account, I realized I had no clue what was going on, I really struggled to say something witty with limited characters, and I didn't want to play anymore.
It immediately reminded me of my childhood swim lessons.
As a fat kid who hated to be told to jump into water, I loathed swimming lessons. Every week was a battle between me and my mom as I cried, begged, and screamed about not wanting to swim. The outbursts out of the pool were bad, too.
So I think part of the reason I got upset about twitter on Sunday was that while Meredith was making points that I didn't want to hear--It might be fun! You have to start somewhere!
Just once a day!--I felt like little kid me shivering in a bathing suit trying to clearly state why I didn't want to participate.
All I came up with was, "I don't want to!"
I'll have to sit down at some point and learn about it. #Blerg.#