twitter

All the little birdies on Jaybird Street

My Hebrew name is Tziporah, like Moses’ wife, and it means “bird.” My maiden name is Jay, like the bird. Nevertheless, I refuse to tweet.

I have recently received a number of invitations to join Twitter. My hairdresser, Dennis, also gave Twitter an enthusiastic endorsement. He is a self-described addict who follows the tweets of numerous personalities, from Lance Armstrong to Ashton Kutcher. I have a difficult time explaining to my Twittering friends my resistance to this medium. After all, most of my friends know that I check Facebook regularly, even if I post status changes rarely. Naturally, they assume that I would also enjoy the occasional tweet. Would it be insulting to tell them that I hardly ever check their status feeds? (Oops! I think I just let them in on that secret.) When I want to know what other folks are thinking and doing I read the NY Times–the version that leaves ink smudges on your hands and coffee mug. When I want to explore an idea or get lost in someone else’s imagination, I check a book out of the library.

I readily admit that I am enjoying my new cell phone with Internet access, and I have already bookmarked my iGoogle and Facebook home pages. But I embrace new technology with the appropriate caution of an immigrant to the digital age. I chuckle to myself, marveling at the speed with which my teenager is able to type with her thumbs, but I am not tempted to text alongside her. I eschew texting, with its funny initials. IDK, YRU texting me? Just call me – we can LOL. I have 750 minutes, and they roll over better than my dog can most mornings. Dare I mention that I pay 20 cents for every incoming text? Oy, i h8 that!



So, for now I do not tweet. It’s not that I am not interested in what my friends are doing. It’s just that I’d rather meet them for a coffee and hear about it in a real-time conversation.

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