We need to talk about Twitter

Let's talk about Twitter. I learned of its existence the same day I learned about its purpose and function. Also the same day I started my account. About three years ago I was sent along with my work colleagues to a workshop on social media strategies for journalists. I walked in having never heard of Twitter but I walked out converted and, as instructed, I signed up and tentatively began tweeting.

Had I not sat through that workshop I doubt I would have got it. Unlike Facebook, I don't think Twitter is immediately intuitive. So I was grateful for the lesson (which I dearly wish I could compress into a neat 300-word blog post but alas). Essentially I discovered Twitter is a very efficient way of linking people and information, which was perfect for my job.

For example. I wrote the legal pages and started following legal commentators, consultants and bloggers in Australia, in the UK and the US, as well as various law firms, journalists and PR agencies representing law firms. This meant by scanning my twitter feed I was able to learn of new developments, new studies, movements in firms, changes in regulations, new articles. Anything and everything legal. I didn't need to click on every link but if something caught my eye I would read it and then it might lead to a story. In that sense it's a great way to stay informed and get ideas on whichever topic takes your fancy.

My own tweets ranged from inane (what I'd just seen or done), to more useful (links to interesting articles), to self-serving (asking for commentary for an article I was writing), to self-promoting (links to my articles). I was not a rampant tweeter but I was active and I would have continued in that fashion but for two things. First I got burnt. Badly. Publicly humiliated, want-to-crawl-under-a-doona-and-cry type burnt. Second, we moved to the UK and I no longer had the professional excuse.

So, instead, I swapped active service for pure voyeur. I log in to my twitter feed on my phone several times every day to see the news headlines, what's happening around the world, to listen in to conversations, to find new people to follow, to keep myself entertained. And I love it. Aside from any other utility Twitter is essentially a voyeur's delight. It's a place where I found so many of the people I admire, find interesting, wish I could meet – journalists, authors, bloggers, high-profile royal commentators - congregating together AND I get to listen in to their conversations.

The thing is I feel like I've now been hanging out on the side-line for too long. And I want to join the party again. Since I've been blogging I occasionally post a link to my twitter feed but that's not enough because I think Twitter is a bit like life – you only get out what you put in. So I'm planning a gradual return to active service. If you are interested in joining in – even just to watch - my account is here.

My detox diet

On the weekend I read something that resonated. Written by Caitlin Moran, a funny and slightly crazy journalist I have come to love, it was one of her more serious columns. She wrote about her first panic attack and the simple tool she now employs to deter them. She erected some barriers in her mind and when her thoughts begin to encroach any of them she quickly tells herself - loud and clear - to SHUT UP. And it works.

Style Notes

A while back I told you how apprehensive I am about bidding my beloved UK newspaper farewell. With just seven days to go these concerns are reaching fever pitch, particularly about reacquainting myself with the Australian papers. See, after I wrote last time, I made a discovery that does not bode well.

My long-time favourite, first-page-I-turn-to, column in the Sydney Morning Herald's Good Weekend, is no longer featured. After 12 years Maggie Alderson, the woman behind Style Notes, is no longer standing at the back of the weekend magazine to entertain and educate me on a Saturday morning. I find this very sad and hope this is not an indictment on the magazine's editorial direction. Time will tell.

Why I’m not saying sorry for the F-word

In recent weeks I have felt inspired. Genuine, physiological, goose-bump inducing, heart-lurching, mind-racing inspired. By three people.

First was Michelle Obama speaking to a group of 12-year old girls from a London school where the majority of pupils are anything but advantaged. Mrs Obama met the girls on her first State trip to the UK and on her recent visit brought 30 of them up to Oxford for the day. I watched on television as she mesmerised these young girls with her candour, sincerity, humour and vision.

Atypical ambivalence

I am feeling uncharacteristically ambivalent about my birthday this year. Narcissistic as it seems, normally I quite love the 21^st of June. I like that it falls in the middle of the year and to be truthful I like presents and I love cake and my own birthday ranks quite highly as an excuse to treat myself to both.

By this stage, ordinarily I'd have bought a few little things under the guise of it being a birthday treat and at least ordered one (or three) slices of a cake I'd otherwise try to resist. This year? Nothing. Not even a lipgloss. I ordered a muffin today but it had no icing so it can hardly call itself a cake.

Selling cars is not my cup of tea

Following my unfettered success as a receptionist at the helicopter base, job offers flooded in from all over the Thames Valley. Everyone wanted to employ that pregnant Australian lady who loved franking the mail. Ok, that's a lie. No one wanted to employ me but I did love franking the mail.

My next temporary assignment was to a luxury car dealership for five days. The agency and I were both under the impression I was being hired to man the reception desk, which was not strictly true. A young English girl welcomed me to the fold and suggested I take the seat beside her at reception.

Public Declarations of Affection

This post comes with a warning. The following material is a little judgemental and possibly inflammatory. On the whole they're not things I aspire to be. Most of the time I deliberately avoid being both but not today. Read my rant at your peril.