Monday, March 19, 2012

I Dream of Twitter

So last Monday night was a rough night in terms of sleeping. It was our last night on our old mattress (Yay for the new Tempur-pedic). We build a new headboard that fell off the wall and onto our heads at 3:30 AM. I had to get up at 5:30, to be at a training class at 7:30 which was 45 minutes away. Basically, all the forces of getting a good nights sleep were against me. And boy did I have some crazy dreams. Specifically, I dreamed of Twitter. It was a party and all the cool kids were there.

I don't remember when I joined Twitter, and I am too lazy to look. I remember my friend Laura said that we should get on Twitter and I did. I don't think any of my other friends, including Laura, stuck with it. I actually liked being on Twitter and engaging people all over the world on topics from HR to bellydance. The next thing I knew, I was having conversations with some pretty cool people who lived in my town. Then I was at a pub crawl dressed in a Snuggie. Drinking in a Snuggie is awesome! If you have not tried it, I am both shocked and demanding that you add it to your bucket list.

This snow balled in to a series of social events with some really awesome new friends that I would have never met had it not been for Twitter. Just as I was getting into the groove of hanging out with my Tweeps, the unthinkable happened - we moved!

Now you are thinking that since Twitter is on the interwebs then moving would be fine because you would still Tweet. Yes, in theory. Except I felt left out. I made one Tweep in my hometown, where I moved to, and he even brought me a diet coke once during a particularly long appointment at his place of employment. Still things just weren't the same. So a I Tweeted less and less, and then not at all. (Except my automatic blog posts and 4sq).

So then, last Monday night, I had a dream. Chris and I were in a random house looking for a party that we had been invited to. It was almost like a party quest. What television has led me to believe one must go through to find a rave. Purchase a pickle at the gas station on the corner of 4th and Vine, pay only in nickels. That sort of thing. Anyway, this quest led us to the most expensive neighborhood in town. To a particular house, where would get the final invite. Once we arrived, sitting at the kitchen table and tweeting were several of my tweeps. For some reason, in my dream, it was important that they did not recognize me until I messaged them and got them to say that I was "in". I really have no idea why because that was the exact moment when the cushion fell out of my new DIY headboard and hit me on the head.

So I am back Twitter, I missed you.

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