ineptwitude and hubris

Christ on a cracker, I am so embarrassed right now. First, take a moment to picture your most technologically inept relative or friend. Possibly someone older, someone unfamiliar with the Newfangled Devices of this generation. Someone who, perhaps, can't work "the facebook" and doesn't understand why his/her computer doesn't chirp when s/he tweets.

Got this poor soul in your mind's eye? Ok, good. Now swap him/her out for me. That's me, right now, hunched over my iPad, frowning furiously, trying to figure out WTF I'm doing with HootSuite, and feeling depressingly old for it.

My name is Ellie, and I am on a three-year social media lag. Which, ok fine, I've always been a little outspokenly critical of the so-me, but now I'm so behind the times I'm having trouble with basic app UIs. Ugh.

The point of this is to say that I'm only just now seeing some tweets that go back months, sent to me by various people, about various things. Some were just compliments on my blog. Some were responses to specific posts. And some were words of personal support.

And I didn't see or respond to any of it.

I'm so sorry.

I just sent out a slew of DMs on Twitter (and apparently, accidentally, one public tweet because I really am a spaz) but the character limit only allowed me to basically say mea culpa and thanks. Which, I guess, is all I'm really saying here, but hopefully more genuinely?

So, yes. The Twitter. I started using the Twitter. I don't know what happened. A Twitter muse climbed into my pants and is doing naughty, dirty things to me all day long. I can't stop myself. I'm sure the inspiration will ebb and flow, but tonight I had a buh-last tweeting the debate, anyway.

In other meta developments, anyone that actually navigates to this page will have by now seen that I remodeled YET AGAIN. I thought I'd double down on the arrogance of calling myself "Elliequent" by adding a bulls-eye graphic, so as to suggest I "nail it" with my oh-so brilliant writing. I also am not unaware that the bulls-eye, looks, in fact, a great deal like a nipple. A big nipple being shot through with an arrow. It's a shame I dropped therapy, because I'd love to hear a psychologist's take on that. EDIT: Changed.

I pretty much don't think before I do anything, people.

Final programming note! I pulled a published post, which is something I haven't done in a long time. But it wasn't sitting well with me for myriad reasons. It felt a bit nasty and judgmental and overshare-y. I may revisit the subject, or I may not - but I did want to at least acknowledge that I engaged in Shady Blogger Behavior, and I know it.

I'm going to return to writing more interesting things now. Thank you for listening.