Two Months

I brought you a slice of red velvet cake as a peace offering...
I brought you a slice of red velvet cake as a peace offering...

It’s been over two months since I posted here. A lot can happen in two months.

In two months, you can find yourself living in a completely different part of the city, in a rambling old house from the 1920s, devoid of husband or dogs or cat. In two months, you can ultimately find happiness and some measure of comfort in something incredibly painful. In two months, you can turn a hobby in to a more-than-full-time job and find yourself resenting what you used to love. In two months, you can reinvent yourself.

Over the past two months, I’ve been heavily active on Twitter. Who hasn’t…? But I’ve found myself increasingly disillusioned not only with the ephemeral nature of Twitter — the fleeting attention spans, the condensed and often thoughtless coughing up of little blood spatters of information or thoughts or ideas — but with the inelegance of Twitter itself. Twitter is a spasm, a knee jerk, a poorly played game of Telephone.

That’s not to say it’s all terrible. Twitter can be useful. And entertaining. And engaging (perhaps too much at times). But I don’t like what it’s done to me or the people around me. We’ve found ourselves endlessly checking our Twitter apps on our iPhones at dinner, ignoring conversations with others to scroll through the timeline, thinking of TwitPic’ing something the instant we see it or instantly relaying inane, overheard discussions as OH’s. There is no time to process — only to Tweet. We’ve found ourselves alternately obsessed with ourselves and with people we don’t even know, ignoring our real lives in the process. There is no time to live — only to navelgaze.

I’m guilty of all of this. And I don’t want to be that person anymore. Of course, I can’t get off of Twitter entirely. It’s a large part of my job to be plugged into Twitter at all times as the @HoustonPress. But I’m more or less abandoning @she_eats for now. It’s become too much to keep up with and the intensely private person that I am (truly, although no one really seems to believe this) is exhausted and frightened by people thinking they know me just because they follow me on Twitter. We are more than our Twitter profiles, people.

So for those reasons and many others, it’s back to blogging for me. Equally narcissistic? Perhaps. But that’s not why I got into this game in the first place. I love it here — the words flowing from my fingers to the keys to the peaceful white void of the screen with no 140 character limits or constant need to entertain or be entertained. I feel comfortable here. There is more even footing here. There is more space to explain, to engage, to be useful — all the things that I initially thought Twitter would be better for — but with far more thought and effort put into it.

So with that… I’m off Twitter. And back here (and always at the Press, of course). Hope to see you around…