A decade ago when Twitter was this fun new thing, I jumped aboard like a hip wanna-be Gen-Xer. I was such a late bloomer with everything else, it felt great to be riding on the Millenial bandwagon. Thinking of tweets consumed my mind more than I care to admit. Driving my son to school, chopping carrots, staring at a blank box with a little blue bird in the corner. I didn’t like this incessant chirping in my brain challenging me to construct 160 character virtual soapbox spiels to exude with the world. There was no purpose behind what I said; I wasn’t promoting anything or joining a movement. I was digitally loitering, wasting time. 

LIFE happened and I dropped off Twitter.

Until I came back when I launched the 365-project, I committed to engrossing myself in the media available (FOR FREE) at my disposal, including Twitter, which my husband calls “free advertising.” This time, I had a purpose: to share my writing. Every day, I #amwriting about stories and experiences which forced me into ‘life clubs’ and I take to  Twitter to tweet about it. Then I listen for crickets or virtual applause.

“I want to really take to Twitter,” I tell my husband earlier this week.

“You Tweet every day.”

“Yeah, but I really want to take to it.” 

“OK, so take to it!”

“I mean, @Lin-Manuel Miranda took to Twitter to complain about cell phones and the next day articles were written, the news covered it, the world was abuzz because he took to Twitter. I want to take to Twitter like that.”

“You want to make a Twitter revolution? I really can’t get the whole hashtag thing down.”

“That’s because it’s all pretend. It’s digital chatter. It’s not real life.”

The last few weeks, in my #Hamilton: An American Musical-obsessed daze, I have been tweeting to @Lin-Manuel Miranda at least once a day. OK sometimes more. I’m afraid he’s blocked me or worse, taken to Twitter to banish this rogue Hamil-stalker.

After I wrote my last piece, I turned into a teenage girl in the 60s, screaming as the Beatles stepped out at Shae Stadium. I just wanted him to read it. A thumbs up maybe or a heart? So I did the only thing I had a false power to do: I took to Twitter. I retweeted, replied, reposted and retreated. Within an hour, my blog sends me a message: “Your Stats Are Booming.”

Checkmate – took to Twitter Club!