Shredded Tweet

So, I have a problem. I find myself faced with an uncontrollable need to let my friends, family and co-workers know exactly what I'm up to all the time. I mean sometimes I'll just be walking along and I'll think of something really ironic about my t-shirt or the fact that I think stickers could save the economy or maybe just feel the need to quote a random song that makes people wonder what's really going on under my skin in this crazy mixed up world. But alas, I guess I'll have to settle with updating my Facebook status whenever I'm around my computer, laptop or cell phone. Oh if there was only a place I could go on the Internet that was accessible from my computer, laptop and cell phone that allowed me to post my inner thoughts, fears, song lyrics, mindless ramblings, comments on the weather and uneducated misinformed theories on deeply social and philosophical ideas. I don't want to deal with profile information, photos, videos or invites to social and political events, no, I just want to tell people what I'm thinking right now or they'll never truly understand or accept me. 

Ladies and gentlemen, there is such a place in cyberspace. A place where self-indulged celebrities and self-indulged joe somebodies alike can post messages to anyone who has nothing else to do but be spoon fed quips from people they know or wish they knew. The amorphous blob that is devouring the consciousness of America and the ultimate downfall of privacy and originality is Twitter.

The fundamental problem I have with Twitter is who cares? Do you really think your friends need to know what you watched on television last night? Another question I have is when did we develop this desire to let people into our lives on a moment by moment basis? Has reality TV invaded so much of our culture that even when no one respects reality TV we all have this secret desire to be "on" all the time? Do we really feel the need to behave like cameras and microphones are constantly rolling waiting to capture that "gem" of wit or social humor? Sadly, that would almost be acceptable, if Twitter was a place for the exchange of social and cultural witticisms and cynicisms between people of all classes and walks of life. It is not however, instead it is a place for people who get upset at the prospect of the government wiretapping and violating their right of privacy, spray painting their every mundane utterance all over one of the most non secure forums outside of a bulletin board in a frat house, the Internet. 

Finally, the introduction of celebrities into the fray of the masses. The art of "Buzz Marketing" strikes again. Buzz marketing was invented by companies who were too tired of creating something original for the consuming public that they advised a way to poll the populace to try and figure out what alternative, non-mainstream, fad, consumers were interested in. Then, the big companies would either 1) buy out the fad or 2) create their own knock-off polished commercialized version. All of this in an attempt to remain relevant. As enticing as the allure is of "following" (never mind the stalker lingo) a celebrity on Twitter to see what makes them tick, the truth behind why they have allowed themselves to be viewed in this forum is lost. Celebrities have to keep you interested in their lives because that's how most of them make money. When celebrities "tweet" they are reminding you that they are still out there (as if we didn't know) and not to forget how funny and candid, or eccentric the parts of their lives they shared with you are, the next time they have a project up for sale. 

So the next time you think of something culturally relevant to say, or have a moment of clarity in this ever increasingly serious world, save it. Get together with your friends in a social space (not Myspace) for some non-Facebook, face time and exchange ideas the old fashioned way, with good conversation. Take the time to formulate an opinion or cultivate a philosophy before splattering it for all the world to see. Realize that maybe not everyone should be privy to your whereabouts at all times. And finally, come to terms with your own self worth, be your own person, and not a mindless Twit.

Savannah Sorrow

Everybody dreams. Dreams are apart of life. Famed Austrian psychiatrist Sigmund Freud researched dreams with his work on the unconscious mind. One theory proposed dreams to be the residue of thoughts that accumulate during the day and slowly make their way into the forefront when the mind is restless. Dreams are believed to be windows into our personalities and psyches. We seek to know the meaning of dreams and why certain dreams occur. Dreaming is sometimes credited as an important step in visualization, if you dream of success you will be more likely to achieve success. As kids we are told to dream big but not to daydream in class, or pursue pipe dreams. Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream of peace for the future, for society and for humanity.

I had a dream. 

My dream was not grand in nature. I didn't want fame or fortune or cultural significance, no. All I wanted was a date. One date. One measly evening out with good food and good conversation and maybe even a good-night kiss, I'm not picky. But no. Not me. For my dream died a slow painful death. On the eastern side of the state of Georgia, by the shores of the Atlantic ocean, Mandy Moore secretly married boyfriend Ryan Adams in Savannah. 

The dream is gone. The wish has vanished. I moved to the other side of the country, L.A., Hollywood, the number one place to run into celebrities and Mandy Moore gets married in my home state! If I believed in signs, this would be a big one. Of course the real victim in all of this is the list. Everyone has a list and it tragically dies, slowly but surely as you get older and become more tied down with responsibility and family. Whether this list contains just women and or men or as mine does, a list of situations, time proves the ultimate victor. 

Mandy Moore became an infatuation of mine when I was a teenager. In the time of Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, Mandy Moore didn't achieve the musical prowess of Christina or the pop cultural exposure of Spears. She also never transformed her identity. This is the allure of Ms. Moore, er uh, Mrs. Adams. (It even hurts to type) Mandy has remained her dignified self when other young starlets have made headlines for less flattering forms of self-humiliation. 

As I stand, prepared to erase her from my list, I know it will be more difficult to erase her from my mind, my heart and my dreams.

III,