This is where I was going to take a photo a day in 2012 but forgot to stop. I also write something random to give you an insight into the craziness that is Susan's mind.
Friday, October 26, 2012
October 26. Day 300. Tweeting
If your shorts were to fall down in the middle of the street due to a clothing malfunction you would desperately hope no-one had noticed. Right?
It would be like that episode of Fawlty Towers: "Don't mention the elastic. I mentioned it once but I think I got away with it."
And yet ...earlier today I told twitter: "A day that starts with your shorts falling down in public because the elastic goes may turn out to be a challenging day". Well that's only telling the 1581 people who follow me on Twitter and my 319 "friends" on Facebook Yep, that's really crowing about it. I've been on Twitter since September 4, 2008, and since then have shared 15,144 gems from my disjointed brain with the world. I've tweeted while my house was being robbed. I've tweeted in a funeral chapel waiting for the service to begin and from my kitchen as the fire brigade doused the flames. Why? I have no idea. As best I can explain it I find it liberating to get things off my chest and to gain instant feedback, support or comment. It also means I don't have to hope my husband notices I've had a haircut or doesn't notice I've bought a new frock. I've already 'fessed up. Critics might ask "why would anyone care if you got caught with my pants down?". Truth is, most people probably don't. See this willie wagtail? This morning he was tweeting away in the mangroves by the path along the river in front of GOMA. Hundreds of people ran, walked, rode and skated past. Not one of them seemed to notice or care what Willie was tweeting about. Twitter's just like that. People make noise. It's there. Mostly it wafts by you and doesn't even register in your consciousness. But sometimes it strikes the right chord and you listen for a bit and perhaps join in the conversation. Willie was music to my ears this morning. I choose to believe he wasn't squawking about the safety pins holding up my pants. I mean that's something you'd choose to keep to yourself, right?