Why I Don’t Tweet, Twitter, Or Talk Like An Animal

If you're a regular reader, you probably realize by now that I try to live the motto, “Just keep things simple, stable, sensible but satisfying.” So were there such a thing as a “Life EKG,” my sinus rhythms might well resemble a leisurely drive in the slower lanes of a flat, straight freeway… with a few rolling hills here and there, and great rest stops at every few exits.

That considered, I’ve always been convinced that the things I do during the course of an average day, seldom rise to the level of importance, uniqueness, or edification of the species to merit unsolicited blabbery. Red phone events they’re not, and thinking it’s necessary to drop everything the minute they happen just to share the details with others (who may not even be interested), seems more than a little narcissistic.

Of course, this attitude seems archaic to those who socially network. That includes some of my family and friends, who have lovingly urged me to get off my knuckles and begin walking upright. It's been tough, but with the exception of this Blog, I have resisted putting myself out there either socially or anti-socially. Perhaps it’s because I secretly fear criminal prosecution for boring someone to death with a minute-by-minute account of my life.

To me, it seems rather perverse that a human being so able to verbally articulate his thoughts and actions, would descend to the level of a feathered creature and begin “tweeting” to those around him about what‘s happening in his particular treetop. And even if such news chirps weren't annoying to most, who really gives a damn that the smell of pine is especially pungent in the treetops today, or that some pesky squirrel is shooting me dirty looks from behind a clump of leaves?

My point is simple. It would be an absolute waste of everyone’s time if I decided to regularly share the details of my daily existence. And to prove just that, here is what my “tweet log” might have resembled for a small portion of today, that is, if I had opened my electronic beak and twittered:

- Just got another irritating solicitation phone call. Made me lose count while I was rolling pennies.

- The clicker of my pen fell off when I was writing down the phone number to lodge a complaint.

- Can’t find the clicker. Think it fell under the refrigerator.

- Man, there’s a lot of crap under this refrig. Who would have thought?

- Found the clicker, but spent forty-five minutes cleaning under there. Hate these unscheduled jobs.

- Trying to figure out why the clicker fell off. Probably a cheap Chinese import!

- Gluing the clicker back on. Had to borrow glue from the neighbor because mine was dried up in the bottle.

- Think it’s going to work fine. A few more minutes and I can try it out.

- Crap! I guess some glue got in the hole. Now the clicker won’t click.

- Pried the clicker back off. The ink cartridge spring popped out when I did.

- Think the spring went under the refrigerator. At least this time I won’t have to clean under there.

- Found the spring. Think it stretched because now it’s too long for the pen.

- Bent the spring back to it’s original size. Put it in and replaced the top.

- Must have weakened the spring. The pen point won’t stay exposed.

- Filled the entire pen tube with glue. Waiting for it to dry.

- Glue is dry and I’m going to test the pen. Doesn’t click anymore, but the point sticks out fine.

- Damn thing won’t write. Been trying to scribble circles on this pad for about ten minutes. Guess the ink cartridge dried up like my glue.

- Just got another unsolicited phone call. Told him off, but found out I was talking to a recording.

- Going to call and complain, anyway. Don’t like being interrupted when I’m fixing stuff.

- Looking for a pencil to write down the phone number. Think I’ll check underneath the refrigerator.