I don't Twitter. Call me old. Call me old-fashioned. Call me anything you want as long as you don't expect me to Twitter.
Twittering is probably fine for businesses and professional bloggers--people who need to get information out there in an instant. It's also good for people who are able to limit their thoughts to 140 characters. Not me man.
In honor of Twitter and its effect on our society, I will now do my part and post the random thoughts I had throughout the day, the same as a twittering tweeter would.
*Today at the Wal-Mart photo center, I saw a girl who used to be one of my customers when I managed a cell phone store. She made it a point to come over to say “hi” to me. I hadn’t spoken to her in about four years, so I was surprised that she remembered me. Yet, I wasn’t surprised that I remembered her. Why do I always assume that only I remember people that I’ve dealt with? Why do I always assume no one else remembers our interactions? Am I arrogant enough that I think only I have a memory?
*I think I want to have a party for all my friends who have never seen Lost and show them the entire first season in one day. That would only take about 8 hours wouldn’t it, assuming there are 13 episodes at 40 minutes each? I would even keep my mouth shut unless they asked me something.
* A lady at my church had been staying at her daughter’s house in another town while she was being treated for cancer. Her husband announced at church two weeks ago that she was home. I will have to go visit her. I got the call today that she died. Why didn’t I make arrangements to visit her the day her husband made the announcement?
* I get disappointed when I go to the mailbox and there is nothing there. Hmmm…maybe others feel the same way when they don’t get anything from me. I think I’ll send someone some mail this week.
* I love the smell of Downey in my laundry.
*My creative writing class meets tomorrow. We’re going to work on small scrapbooks so that they can see that writing isn’t just about making up stories or writing essays. I’m going to teach them how to write captions, page titles and journal entries by their photos. I spent two hours going through photos I had taken of those kids all last year when they were my students, trying to decide which ones to print out for them. I waxed nostalgic and nearly cried. I’ve taught them for two years, fourth and fifth grade, but this fall I have to teach high school. How is it possible to love kids so much, when they’re not my own? Can I love teenagers the same way?
*Why can I never remember to drink water throughout the day?
*I went to the library today to look for a good book to read. I walked up and down the aisles, hoping for something to jump out at me. I do that every time, and every time I say Why don’t I come prepared with a title of something I want to read? I copped out and looked for my favorite author, Orson Scott Card, and picked out another one of his books. Next time I’ll be prepared. Uh-hum. Maybe when Oprah calls me personally to tell me what she wants me to read.
*Jere picked out a movie at the library and I denied it just because of its name, “Hellboy.” I don’t care how good a movie is, if you’re going to call it Hellboy I’m not renting it. That’s all I need is a ten year old running around yelling, “I’m Hellboy—huzzah!”
* My daughter calls me every day on her way home from work. I cherish that ten minutes. It’s good to know that as she walks out the door of her office, mom is still a comfort.
* Man, I was a slob at dinner. I have tomato soup and tuna sandwich down the front of my shirt. That’s what I get for balancing a meal on the edge of my keyboard. [Oh come on—you have too done that.]
* The refrigerator is not working. Lukewarm milk is gaggy. How do babies do it?
*The refrigerator not working reminds me of the difference in food tolerance between my husband and me. His motto is “It’s still good-I picked all the mold off.” My battle cry is “When in doubt, throw it out.” The fridge limit for leftover refried beans is two days. Once we left them in the fridge for a week. Tim’s son, Nathan, opened the leftover beans and said, “AAAAGGH! Death Beans!” I smelled them and agreed—they were the Beans of Death. Tim smelled them and said, “I don’t see anything wrong with them.”
*Does anyone have a more sinister voice than Christopher Lee?
There you have it. My twitterish thoughts of my day. All at once. Did you care?