If you’ve read about me, you know that I’m never going to Twitter.

First of all, I barely remember to write here every day, let alone to write constantly with every move I make. Secondly, I don’t have that kind of package on my cell phone, nor that kind of cheese in my bank account. I’d go broke a dime at a time paying to send text messages every hour. Thirdly, I honestly don’t know what I’d say. It took me several years to realize I had enough to say to blog a few times a week. And I think I would be uncomfortable with everyone on the internet knowing what I was doing every minute.

Ultimately, I think my consciencious objection to Twittering is mostly because of the voyeurism that it propagates. What do you care how often I eat zucchini, or what I’m thinking about while waiting in the line of cars for the drive-up ATM, or whether I made French press or brewed coffee this morning? I can understand why you’d want to follow someone super cool or famous, but why Jeff, your waiter at Outback last night? I guess it’s the same reason I never update my status on Facebook. It’s really quite a lot of pressure to write something short but witty and relevant. I’ve never been one for short-ness anyway when it comes to talking.

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