I remember that word from years ago, as a child watching Bambi and Thumber in animated harmony grow up together and find love. Twitterpated. Love. Ah! www.urbandictionary.com defines it as "the flighty, excited feeling you get when you see the object of your affection". Never before has Urban Dictionary been so poetic. Seriously, you usually get hormonal teenagers trying to describe bizarre and impossible sex acts. Sheesh.
What an appropriate time to be twitterpated - St. Valentine's Day is just around the corner - and while I don't really celebrate it at my house - it's usually an excuse to buy everyone the chocolate that you know they love and wouldn't otherwise buy for themselves. If I'm exceptionally lucky, I will get no sugar added Purdy's hedgehogs. But I digress. Even though Valentine's Day is just not celebrated with much pomp and circumstance around here, the idea behind the day gives me warm fuzzies. Ahhh. So why am I so twitterpated, besides the warm fuzzies and prospect of chocolate a few days away? Minuteman Press has finally come into the new millennium. Yes, that's correct - we are now on Twitter. I'm starting to feel old, and new technology is starting to scare me, and Twitter with it's own language and often banal postings from attention whores, and such instant connection wasn't something I thought I wanted, let alone needed. I had never even ventured onto a twitter page for any reason at all until one of our employees got it in her head that Minuteman Press Leduc needed one. "Just one more form of media" and "another way to inform customers and potential customers" were phrases that were discussed as I sat - half distracted by the mountains of work I had yet to work on. How am I going to have the time to Twitter? I wondered as I absent mindedly scrolled down my FaceBook page. I agreed it was a good idea, and completely forgot the conversation. The next day, my wonderful employee broached the subject - "you know what I mentioned yesterday that I would do...?" was her tentative question. I flicked my wrist and shrugged a shoulder. "Meh" was my response. I was expecting her to explain why it wasn't done yet, and I wasn't overly concerned about it. I was about to say "it'll be done when you get to it". I don't really expect my employees to work on work after work. I may be a slave driver, but I'm not mean! And as I lifted up my head to reassure her that all was well, I came face to face with our Minuteman Press Leduc Twitter page. Whaaa..?! I spent half a day confused, another half a day decyphering its bizarre language. Retweet? Sounds like "retreat" as spoken by Elmer Fudd. But retreat I did not (unless you consider the word to mean "to treat yourself again"). I twittered, tweeted and conquered - hooray! Okay, I've tweeted twice, and I still don't know the lingo, or who's following and who's a follower, and it's mostly confusing, but I must admit, it does seem like an efficient way to get news out fast about products, services and promotions at the shop. And once our employee links several organizations to us too, I'm beginning to understand why this is such a good tool. But it still makes me feel old. Now get off my lawn!
So now I can twitter about being twitterpated this valentine's day on my blog, my facebook and on my website. With all this connectivity, where's the privacy? Where are the days of multiple accounts and false profiles? Is internet stalking even a thing anymore? Or is it just that everyone in the world is guilty of it? Maybe I'll spend valentine's day at home with the curtains drawn. But I won't forget to twitter about it later. :)
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