I turn 28 soon but for a few days this week, it felt a lot more like 108.

In a related topic, I logged onto Twitter for the first time Monday.

Sparked by a seminar I took on social media in the news industry, I decided it was foolish for me to be 27-almost-28 and not hooked into the digital culture.

“How hard can it be?” I thought to myself. (Those are, coincidentally, the same words that sparked such life anecdotes as “The Time I Tried to Hang That Heavy Mirror” and “Learning to Drive My Boss’ Suburban.”)

The first few times I logged onto Twitter, I sort of stared at the screen, blankly.

I felt like I needed a nap.

On my plastic-covered couch.

With my 83 cats.

And a pack of Freedent gum.

Because the site only allows you to type 140 characters at a time, everyone types in truncated, shortened text speak.

Um. At first, I didn’t understand the appeal. I’m a writer. I can yawn more than 140 characters.

Plus, I just didn’t really understand the technology, initially, either. It’s the same way that my mother still shouts at the speaker phone or thinks that I might pick up in the middle of a voicemail. (“Hey, it’s Mom. Looks like we keep playing phone tag. Call me back. *shuffle, shuffle.* Wait — Erin? Is that you? Are you there? Hello?! Hellllloooo??!

Oh shoot. I think she hung up.”)

You know when you break up with someone and even though your last relationship was atrocious and you couldn’t stand to be in the same time zone as that person — going back almost seems more safe and comforting than going it alone?

That was how it was when I sent my first Tweet. I wanted to go back to something that was familiar territory — Friendster, MySpace, whatever.

It does not help that our office’s computer systems are, um, slightly vintage either. Sometimes coming to the Tribune feels like a trip inside an H.G. Wells novel.

Still, by the end of the week, I was a tweeting machine. I love it and have had so much fun.

You can follow me and the rest of the Tribune crew @kokomofriday or @kokomotribune.

We’ll be tweeting from our phones, our computers and even our plastic-covered couches.



— Erin Shultz

[friday] editor / doesn’t think 108 candles will fit on a cake.