I admit it, I have cravings. Not just for dark chocolate, but for tweets.
It starts when I wake up and notice I need a Twitter fix – or a twix. Getting tweeted is now more important to me than my mother complementing my shoes – pretty shoes with bows or ankle straps that I purchase with her in mind. (Mom really likes these kind of shoes).
But tweets are the new approval. Sorry, Mom. I’m looking at the birdie for love, and smiling. It’s a gratifying picture. Except, of course, when the tweets don’t add up. If Twitter is over capacity, it is not because of me. The approval ratings can be disappointing. My tweet tooth feels a hole, a void, a cavity if you will. It can hurt something awful.
For this reason, I’m convinced, therapists will soon be healing a generation of Twitter followers with complexes from not receiving enough tweets in their formative years when they actively sought reassurance from countless strangers in the great abyss.
I look to strangers, too, in the tweets of San Francisco, to form a Twitter bond – strangers like Mayor Gavin Newsom, the 4th most followed politician on the service. See, most of my social contemporaries who aren’t web writers or famous Hollywood stars aren’t quite sure what kind of animal tweeting actually is, or what social networking means, or why some among us feel the need to sign in daily with mundane accounts of their comings and goings or to write witty and pointless haiku – or twaiku, NPR observes.
I explain it is all about professional networking and exposure, not to be confused with Facebook, which is for sharing, too, but much more of a social animal. I’m drawn to Twitter to connect with other eco web entities, allow my own posts to gain visibility, and of course, to be part of that club; The tech savvy one.
While the opposite of exclusive, it is an impressive club, so much so that any marketing executive connected with any university, magazine, business, grass roots cause or retail store must be equipped to set up an account and work it. By working it, I mean, spend part of the day following the Twitter trail that leads to the sort of club members you would want to take to lunch. The members you would want to be following you. And so you tweet them half way.
Getting re-tweeted is an art of sorts. For example, my colleagues are also Twitter hounds who crave tweets, and we share a reciprocal relationship, in which you tweet my link and I tweet yours. If I forget, a colleague might guilt me about being remiss and say “a little bird told me you forgot to tweet!” They might enjoy their tweet revenge and not scratch my back for a whole week, and then I have to rely on some stranger to do it.
I suppose all of this pop cultural blither is intended to send a message to followers and readers and colleagues, and even Facebook friends from junior high who see my links and posts on the social site.
Listen up, tweety pie. Tweet if you love me; tweet if you are horny; tweet if you are very small (a baby tweeter); tweet if you are large (a meaty tweety). If you don’t, I will just assume you don’t like me.
You can find Luanne on Twitter at @inthegreenlane or follow this list for all EcoSalon writers.