It all started when someone thought I was on Twitter, when I wasn’t. There is someone on Twitter with my exact same name, but she isn’t me. So, there was this really minor issue of mistaken identity and I thought the easiest thing to do would be to sign up for Twitter, and then there would be two of us with my (our) name on Twitter, and anyone looking for one of us could pick the one they were looking for, and everything would be great.
In fact, things started out pretty well. I got an account. I was wendyslotboom. I had 0 followers. I followed 0. I had 0 updates. There was a zen-like purity to those three zeroes.
But there was also that empty text box with “140″ hovering near it. “Say something,” it beckoned.
But what? What could I say in 140 characters? And who am I saying it to? Do I just start talking in the dark?
Suddenly, lines from “Convoy” started emerging deep from my subconsciousness.
“Breaker One-Nine!”
That would be a good tweet.
“Negatory Pig-Pen.”
That’ll win me some followers.
“This here’s the Rubber Duck on the side!”
There’s a little warning buzz in my head, but does that stop my train of thought? No.
“Mercy sakes alive, looks like we got us a convoy!”
Yeah! And we’re rockin’ on through the night.
Hey, what’s this?! There’s a disturbance in the field. There is suddenly a number one where there had been a zero. Just by the act of thinking about “Convoy” posts, I’ve attracted a follower! Who could it be?
It’s…green_turd?
And he/they/it has tweeted about a cell-phone offer? Like…they think I need a cell-phone?
I don’t need a cell-phone! I’ve got a CB radio! I’ve got a convoy! Man! This green_turd person doesn’t get me at all!
Suddenly I recognized that Twitter might not be bringing out the best in me. What would be worse? Someone mistaking another (normal) Twitterer for me? Or someone finding the actual me on Twitter and discovering that I’m a crazy woman channeling C.W. McCall?
So I deleted my account. Goodbye, Twitter. Can I just say…you know where to find me. I’m “‘Bout a mile outta Shaky-Town!” (Not really.) That’s all. 10-7.