The Trip, Because of the Fall

“Uh, Autumn, are you sure it’s okay for us to be back here?”

“Yeah! Felicity, I told you, it's fine, it’s cool, my boss is cool. Come on! I want to show you something!”

The two girls moved quickly down the back hallway of the hotel, dodging stacks of chairs, room service carts, and other obstacles.

“I never knew you were into this stuff,” said Lissy. “I mean, if I had, we could have, I dunno, done a movie marathon or something.”

“When?” replied the girl in the hotel uniform. “I’m always here.”

“I guess that’s true,” Lissy muttered.

“It’s fine, we know now, and maybe we can do the movie thing on my next weekend off. In, like, four months. But whatever, come here, look!” They had reached a door, which Autumn cracked open. Lissy could see a large banquet space that was slowly being transformed into booths. “Look, look!” Autumn insisted, pointing to what would soon be a booth on the end of the nearest aisle. “Know who that is?”

It looked to Lissy as though it was a rather good looking guy and a girl who hadn’t quite made up her mind the last time she sat down in front of a hair stylist. Autumn was obviously expecting her to reply, and she felt a little silly saying, “N...o, should I?”

“Seriously?”

Lissy looked at her roommate. “I like Harry Potter stuff. Neither of those people look like actors from the movies, unless you’re gonna tell me that that girl is actually Nymphadora Lupin.”

“Huh?” was Autumn’s reply.

“Yes, that!” Lissy pointed at her roommate’s face. “That’s how I feel when you ask me who those people are. I don’t know.”

Autumn sighed and nodded an apology, just like she had the time she had accidentally left a wet towel on Lissy’s bed. “Okay. Well, you can pretend to be excited with me, then.”

Lissy nodded her forgiveness, just like she had the time she had gotten yelled at by the RA because Autumn had gone to work and forgotten that her stereo was blasting the Pokémon Theme―on repeat―for four hours.

“It’s Kent Jackson,” Autumn said. “He draws Oblivious Girl, and the girl is Hazel Kirke, they write the comic together and she colors it. I would totally get my hair done like hers if they didn’t have a rule against it here.”

“Really?” Lissy eyed the girl’s orange and purple leopard spotted mohawk.

“Yeah, she’s awesome, right?”

Lissy was saved from having to disagree by a man’s voice calling down the hallway, “Autumn, are you down there? You’re supposed to be at the front desk!”

Autumn jumped like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be right there!” she yelled back. Then she turned to her roommate. “Okay, keep going down the hallway, and the second door on the left will take you out onto the sidewalk where you parked.”

“You’re leaving me here?” Lissy protested.

“It’s not a big deal, just go two doors down and you’ll be fine!”
“I thought you said it was okay for us to be back here!”

“Yeah, it is, just… well, not right now, because I’m supposed to be somewhere else. Two doors down.”

And then she disappeared back the way they had come.

Lissy stood, alone in the service hallway of the hotel, marveling at the seedy underbelly of the Chicago fan convention experience. It wasn’t terribly exciting. Or very well lit. She started down the hall in the direction her roommate had indicated, hoping she would be standing outside within sight of her car in a few minutes, but it took her almost two to reach the first door on the left, and the second one was nowhere to be seen.

She wasn’t afraid of getting lost. She was in a large hotel in one of the biggest cities in the country. If nothing else, she could just start shouting, “I’ve been abandoned in a dark hallway by an Oblivious Girl fan!” until someone found her. If that reference didn’t work, she could always resort to Star Wars: “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.” She smiled at the thought and pulled at the red and gold striped scarf around her neck. The hallway was so full of stuff that she had to turn sideways a couple of times to squeeze past things. “How can they work back here?” she murmured to herself. “I’m surprised I haven’t knocked anything over, or fallen―”

And that’s when it happened.

She tripped.

Great, now I’m going to die, she thought.

Instead, she heard someone yelp, and say, “What the hell?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she cried as a reflex.

“Whoa, calm down!”

A strong hand above her elbow helped her to her feet, and she looked into the face of her knight in shining armor. He looked like that comic artist, but Lissy was sure it couldn’t be him, since she’d just seen him in the other room. Plus, this guy’s hair was black instead of light brown.

“You’re not… who I thought,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” she replied, as he rubbed a hand on his shins.

“I’ll be all right. Why did you trip over me?”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose! You’re the one laying on the floor with your legs across the hallway!”

“True enough.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I’m hiding from Hazel. I’ve already carried about a million boxes in for them today, and I had to sneak away to get some rest.”

“Oh.” Lissy felt slightly awkward, standing with some stranger alone in a deserted hallway. Maybe she would put one of her Gryffindor socks in with Autumn’s laundry when she got back to the dorm. “Well, I... think they rent rooms here. It’s a hotel.”

“Yeah, but…” he began, then shook his head. “Never mind. Sorry I tripped you.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I tripped.” She glanced along the wall on her left. “You wouldn’t by chance happen to have seen a door on this side of the hallway, would you?”

“Sure, there’s one on the other side of that rack of wine glasses. Why?”

“It’s how I make good my escape,” she informed him. She shifted the glassware, which luckily was on a rolling cart. “Wow, I never would have seen it if I hadn’t tripped over you. Pretty lucky, huh?”

“I’ve never heard of someone luckily tripping over an innocent bystander,” he said with a grin.

“That’s me,” she replied. “Lucky Lissy!”

Just then, a door on the right side of the hallway opened to reveal an irate girl with a leopard mohawk. “Jack, are you slacking off again?!”

Jack sighed. “Yes, I am,” he admitted.

“Well, get back in here, I’m too short and I need your help hanging stuff.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said resignedly. He glanced at Lissy. “Good luck,” he told her.

“Same to you,” she said, and opened the door, looking back to see him following Hazel Kirke back onto the floor.

She stepped outside, and there was her car, right in front of her. She sighed. At least Autumn had been right about that. It wasn’t even the first day of the CON and already she was having adventures. This was going to be an interesting weekend.

alloftheprompts.tumblr.com

Writing About Writing

It’s very easy for me, especially on the days that I can’t immediately think of something to write about, to let my attention wander on the internet. Sometimes it’s a good thing, because I will occasionally get inspired by a news article, or an argument about something random, or by the contents of a webcomic. Other times I will spend several hours reading the webcomic’s archives and floating in a state of non-working bliss.

Usually it’s the guilty thought of “I HAVEN’T WRITTEN ANYTHING TODAY” that pulls me back to doing what I actually should be doing, but occasionally I come across things like this.

Image property of The Oatmeal.

Earlier today I thought several witty things and amused myself, and found myself thinking, “if only I could draw, I wouldn’t have to write everything down; it would be less work.” Then I read this comic and realized that when you can draw, not only do you have to do the drawing part, but you also have to do the writing part. So really, not being able to draw is a good thing (if I’m looking at the less/more work scale).

Sometimes the only thing you can do when you’re in a state of “I’ve got nothin’” is to write about writing. You might think that “writing about writing” is the same thing as “writing about nothing,” but it’s surprising how stepping back to take a look at what you do will produce a wonderful piece. This comic, like most by The Oatmeal, is endearingly rude and half full of swears, but makes amazing and inspiring points.

As a writer, I get to make my own schedule. For me, this means that once I write something sufficiently amusing, I can do whatever I want for the rest of the day. Play video games, ignore housework, nap, whatever. Once I click that ‘publish’ button, my day is my own.

Every job has its faults, and even though this is my dream job, I still feel like complaining about it sometimes… just not to my wonderful husband who actually has real reasons to complain about his job. “I couldn’t think of anything to write” is such a lame thing to whine about in the face of his actual hardships that I’d rather write something I wasn’t happy with than admit that aloud to him. My husband is awesome.

I love the freedom of being able to write whatever I want. I remember being in school and chafing at ridiculous assignments that I had no interesting creative ideas for, and then feeling like I was set free to romp in a field whenever the assignment happened to be “write whatever you want.” Today it seems like it’s almost opposite. A day full of hours of promise, glistening with the freedom of writing whatever I want seems like oppression, but an interesting phrase, a few words, or an inspiring image can give me the structure I need to creatively produce something amazing.

Sometimes I wish there was an idea generator for the days I when can’t think of anything, a machine without feelings capable of being hurt that I could just push a button as many times as I needed to find something that inspired me. It would be better than playing the writing equivalent of “what do you want for dinner” with my friends. “What should I write about?” “Um, how about…?” “No, that sounds boring.” I suspect that when I inflict that sort of thing on myself and others that deep down I really just want to tell someone else that “your ideas are bad and you should feel bad.” Maybe it somehow makes me feel better? After all, when that situation comes up, I can’t think of anything good, so I suppose it comforts me to know that no one else can either.

An inspiration isn’t something you can control. When I get inspired (usually by a writing prompt of some kind), I can’t turn it off or walk away from it. If I sleep on an idea (or a story), it’s really hard to get that inspiration back. Several times I have ended up working late into the night on something because I knew that if I stopped, I would never be able to come back to it. “What? You want dinner? Well, I started thawing some chicken a couple of hours ago and the recipe I was going to use is sitting on the kitchen counter. Good luck with that; hope the kids like it.”

Cultivating seeds of ideas is sometimes difficult for me. Something funny will happen, or I’ll start pondering a situation and see the interesting or amusing things about it. The smart thing to do, you’d think, would be to write these ideas down somewhere so that later I can come back and use them when I needed to. And I’ve got one of those ‘somewhere’s, a google doc named “stuff to blog about” or some such. But I’ve found that sometimes, writing down that idea before it’s ready can kill it (or make me lose interest in it), just like planting a seedling in the ground ground outside too early. If it’s really a great idea, it will tumble around in my brain for long enough that eventually it will make its way out.

“Make a new friend,” The Oatmeal encourages near the end. “Learn to chainsaw juggle. Read a book. Go hang gliding in your underpants. If you have done all these things and you still don’t have anything to write about, then you shouldn’t be a writer. ...if you don’t have anything to say, then you shouldn’t be talking. And if you don’t have anything to write about, don’t write.”

It’s not like I don’t have things to write about. It’s just one of those moods you get in sometimes, like when you’re eleven and sitting in the middle of your room, surrounded by toys, and whining at your mom: “I’m bored.” I’ve got stuff to write about. I just started reading that cool Rothfuss series (Name of the Wind); there’s a rad spider who’s been living on our front porch for a week or so (I’ve been thinking about ways to start charging him rent, but I’m not sure how I’d monetize slightly digested insect carcasses); and my kids constantly pretend to be dinosaurs. There’s a wealth of stuff going on around here.

It’s hard to get rid of that mood, when you feel uninspired and that there’s nothing interesting enough going on in your life to share with your readers. So when in doubt, write about writing. You may discover that you’ve got quite a bit to write about after all.

Review: Widdershins

I love history. I love adventure stories. I love just about any tale in which magic is an everyday, normal thing, accepted by society. I love wacky time travel narratives. And I love webcomics. So when all of these things are rolled up into the same gorgeous package, I can’t resist.

Widdershins is a comic by Kate Ashwin that has been updating since October 24th, 2011 every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Excellently drawn and in full color (except for a few Q&A sketches between chapters), it takes place in alternate reality England, in the fictional Victorian city of Widdershins. From what I can gather, it seems to be located somewhere between London and Manchester (which doesn’t narrow it down much, that’s like saying that it’s somewhere between Los Angeles and Sacramento).

But the interesting thing about Widdershins is that it is the location of an anchor of magic. This means that those who have the talent for magic can perform it more easily there. The academy in Widdershins teaches potential wizards how to draw circles and speak the correct words in order to summon spirits.

One of the wonderful things about the comic is that there isn’t just one main character. One chapter features a wizard and a bounty hunter, and the next, a couple of buskers with unusual abilities. And another stars the most promising cake baker from the year 2013. These characters are not featured in the same chapter, but they do brush up against one another.

The only thing that makes me sad about this comic is that there are only four complete chapters. Of course, I’d be sad if there were fourteen. I could read this comic for years and never have enough. It’s wonderful.

It’s a gorgeous, well written, exciting webcomic, that has everything I love about webcomics. I highly recommend it! And now I’m going to go and reread it. Again.

Faith, Hope, and Fruit

Fruit is delicious. It’s nature’s candy. My kids devour it. Sure, they like candy too, but if there’s fruit around, they’d usually have that instead. I shove as many grapes, bananas, and apples into them as possible. It doesn’t really matter how difficult to open/detach from various seeds the fruit is, if it’s delicious, my kids are going to eat it. And to them, all fruit is delicious. They’ll even chew multiple times on a lemon slice out of someone’s iced tea. So Randall Munroe’s fruit graph doesn’t really apply to them. If it’s fruit, they like it.

Graph property of Randall Munroe, xkcd.com.

I’m different. I enjoy fruit, but I’m suspicious of it. Some fruit is totally awesome all the time (like watermelon), and some is totally disgusting all the time (like grapefruit). But other fruit masquerades as awesome while having a certain percent chance that it will be totally disgusting. I don’t eat strawberries or blueberries as often as I give them to my kids because in my experience, they both have a pretty high chance that I’ll be biting into something sour. If I choose to eat these fruits, it’s because I’m hoping that it will be delicious, because I know that sometimes it is.

I have altered Mr. Munroe’s graph to reflect my own fruit preferences, and instead of the difficulty in removing the delicious fruit from its natural packaging, the x axis shows my faith that the fruit will be delicious to my hope that the fruit might be delicious.

Altered graph still property of Randall Munroe; I just altered it a bit.

So if you ever see me turning down pineapple slice, you’ll know why.

Look Before Driving

When my family and I lived in Boulder, Colorado, sometimes I’d get annoyed while driving through town. At the time, I felt that the pedestrian crosswalk precautions were a little bit much.

There are signs. Thick lines of paint on the street. Flashing lights on poles. And a loud voice announcing that pedestrians were using the crosswalk.

The first several times I drove through them, I’d roll my eyes. “Really?” I’d think. “Do I really need all this to remind me that pedestrians sometimes walk across the street here? This is too much.”

Was it?

Nope.

I never hit or even came close to hitting a pedestrian or bicyclist in Boulder.

Lincoln, Nebraska has a ton of foot and bicycle traffic, too, but not as much trumpeting parade about it. Here, you don’t get reminded to use common sense when you pull up to an intersection near campus. Instead, the flood of students crossing the street reminds you that you can’t pull across the crosswalk as you wait for traffic to lighten so you can turn the corner. You feel like an idiot as everyone walks around your car and gives you dirty looks.

Nobody ever gets in their car and plans to hit someone with it, but I’ve come close a couple of times. There’s a blind corner in the alley behind Tico’s that you have to completely stop and inch forward bit by bit until you can see if there’s anyone you’re about to ram into coming down the sidewalk.

I’d imagine that Portland is more like Boulder than Lincoln is. It’s hard to miss a loud pedestrian crosswalk, especially when there are other cars stopped for aforementioned pedestrians. Nobody gets up in the morning planning to be vilified on the internet, but sometimes when you hit an internet celebrity riding her bicycle across a very bicycle-friendly crosswalk in a very bicycle-friendly city, you end up being the jerk everyone on the internet hates.

I hope you’re okay, Erika, and if nothing else, your adventure today will make the rude gentleman a more respectful and attentive driver.

Am I... Am I the type of person who gets hit by a car while riding my bike and then tweets about it? Yes, I suppose I am.
— Erika Moen (@ErikaMoen) November 19, 2013

Hometown Tourist

I didn't set out yesterday to have such an eventful afternoon. I certainly didn't set out to give a guided tour of my hometown. But, when in Rome (or Lincoln, rather)...

I set out to pick up some yarn from my mom's house. But when I got there, my mom told me that there was more yarn to be had, as my aunts who are visiting from Utah were going to come into town in quest of some.

Yarn Charm

My awesome sister-in-law works at the cutest yarn shop in town. Yarn Charm is a tiny yarn lover's paradise on Superior, a few blocks west of 27th Street. They have sock yarn, chunky yarn, lace yarn, or dyed wool in case you want to spin your own. (There are even toys in the classroom to distract your kids while you jump around squealing about yarn.) The prices are higher than at the big name craft stores, but so is the quality. I don't think you'll find a 50% silk/50% alpaca blend at Hobby Lobby. If you need some gorgeously fancy yarn, Yarn Charm is the place to be. (And if you don't know how to knit or crochet but want to learn, they offer classes! Check out their website or call for details.)

The Haymarket

I simultaneously congratulate and feel sorry for anyone who has never been to The Haymarket in Lincoln before. Congratulations, you've never had to deal with the parking situation. But, dude, you're missing out on the food situation.

We miraculously found two spots near one another, and parked on 8th Street between O and P Streets, where I immediately began pointing out restaurants to my hungry tour group. "There's a sushi place across the street; coffee house, coffee house, coffee house; Buzzard Billy's is Cajun, The Oven is Indian, there's Vincenzo's (Italian), Lazlo's is down the street (that's American food), there's a local Mexican place down the block and an interesting fusion burger place called Leadbelly."

To Old Chicago we went (there's no Old Chicago in southern Utah), to try local beers and split a calzone. My daughter opted for a more traditional kids' macaroni and cheese and a "Princess pink lemonade," which was not on the menu but our server promised to put extra "princess" in for her anyway.

Ivanna Cone

We turned down the offer of dessert, but that's only because Ivanna Cone is a block away. Ivanna Cone is the first thing you smell when you walk up the steps and open the door of The Creamery Building. It's the smell of freshly made waffle cone. They only take cash, but don't worry, there's an ATM in the hallway. There is usually at least one standard flavor on the chalkboard at Ivanna Cone: Dutch Chocolate, or Fresh Strawberry, or Sweet Cream Vanilla. But there's always something more gastronomically adventurous, like Lavender Lemon or Watermelon Lime Chili Sorbet. My Aunt Andie and I chose the safe option, Cinnamon, after I tasted a couple (and didn't fancy the Balsamic Strawberry), and my Aunt Tarie got Cinnamon Red Hots ice cream topped with hot fudge! While we enjoyed our dessert, I gave a mini-Haymarket news update, informing my tour group about the recent changes the area has undergone: the new arena and additional buildings, especially the plans for more parking space. My daughter hopped back and forth between taking bites of my ice cream and playing with the ice cream themed toys in the corner of the shop, where a sign reads, "you may play with our toys, but please clean up when you're done!"

The Creamery Building, where Ivanna Cone and Indigo Bridge are located.
(picture by Ammodramus, via wikipedia)

Indigo Bridge

The Creamery Building has three floors of interesting shops: Paint Yourself Silly, the Abracadabra Theater, a dance studio, and a photography studio (among others). But it's hard to leave Ivanna Cone and not walk directly into Indigo Bridge Books.

Indigo Bridge has one counter for buying books and another for coffee. While Aunt Tarie procured herself a decaf Americano (with locally roasted beans from Cultiva), Aunt Andrea found something shiny. She and my daughter tried on all the bracelets and picked one as I talked myself out of buying both a copy of Hark! A Vagrant! (although my birthday is coming up) and some mustache shaped post it notes, and after paying, we went on our way.

I tried not to lose my tour group as I lead the way in navigating the many one way streets back to my parents' house, where our tour ended with adorable babies, yarn envy, and plans for tomorrow.

You don't have to leave home to be a tourist (or a tour guide)! But some parts of the world are more blessed than others. I'm lucky to live in one of them! There are plenty of interesting things to do in Lincoln Nebraska, and if you ever want to visit, I'll show you, too.

Sorry Abut the Mess

by Randall Munroe, xkcd.com

My house is kind of a mess.

It’s not disgusting or anything, but it’s in a state of perpetual organized chaos which I occasionally vow to put right, attack, and then stop halfway through, leaving it in a different state of perpetual organized chaos which we then have to get used to again.

My husband likes to tease me about it, and sent me this recent xkcd comic. The alt-text reads, “‘Sorry, I left out my glass of water from last night.’ ‘OH GOD I APPARENTLY LIVE IN A GARBAGE PIT.’” If it were not for my constant vigilance, our glassware would be kept by my husband’s side of the bed, containing varying levels of unconsumed water.

I can live with my organized chaos. I know where everything is. That doesn’t mean I don’t try to keep the mess from overwhelming me or apologize to visitors for the mess that I know is there just because I ignore on a regular basis. 

Really, what I’m saying when I welcome people into my home with, “sorry it’s such a disaster in here,” is “don’t look over at the pile of random stuff on the bookshelf or the papers spread loosely across the desk. I forget to make it look nice on a daily basis, so I hope you will be so good as to forget it’s there as well.”

Thursday in History: Vague

Happy Defenders Day!

What, you don’t remember the successful defense of the city of Baltimore from British forces in September 1814 during the War of 1812?

Maybe wikipedia wasn’t as extensive in 1812. video by CollegeHumor.com

Britain was right in the middle of fighting Napoleon in 1812. They needed sailors to fight the maritime side of the war, and any British sailors hoping to desert tended to head to the same place: a neutral country with a large navy which held plenty of work for them. The United States was perfect.

At the time, the United States was happily trading with both Britain and France, and got kind of annoyed when the British boarded their ships and pressed American sailors into service (allegedly, sometimes it was hard to tell which sailors had official papers to prove they were American citizens and which of them were forged), and they were even more offended when Britain tried to mandate America’s trading. “Hey, you’re supposed to be neutral, quit trading with our enemies,” said Britain, and the United States was like, “Um, what?”

There was also the matter of American expansionism into the “west,” (which we now call Ohio and nearby states), which the native peoples objected to. The British, who didn’t mind there being a buffer of native tribes between American settlements and their own settlements in Canada, helped by providing arms. Those in the United States saw this as a really good reason that the British shouldn’t have holdings in Canada anymore.

It wasn’t like President Madison could email the British Prime Minister or give him a call. (Which was too bad, since the Prime Minister was assassinated shortly before and the man who took his place was determined to be friendlier to the United States.) It took around two months for news to reach the other side of the Atlantic in those days. So when the United States declared war in June of 1812, the British ambassador and consul escorted the declaration to the nearest British territory in Halifax, Nova Scotia. I’m sure the reaction of those in power in Britain on receiving the news was something like, “What, seriously? Ugh, come on, we’ve got a lot going on, here.”

But they wanted a war, so a war they got. It wasn’t glorious and victorious for the United States. I think that’s why we like to forget it. After burning Washington DC in 1814 (in which the White House was famously torched), British forces turned to the nearby city of Baltimore. A force of American soldiers marched out to meet them, and the battle they fought bought the city enough time to prepare for the naval onslaught during which Fort McHenry refused to surrender and the words of our national anthem were penned.

And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air gave proof, through the night that our flag was still there.

By April of 1814, Napoleon was finished, and the British no longer needed as many sailors to man ships of war. Britain and France decided to be best friends after the government changed hands in France, so there wasn’t need for any trade to be restricted. And as a result of naval action in the Great Lakes, many of the raids conducted against American settlers by natives who had been encroached upon had stopped. There wasn’t any reason for a war anymore.

Nobody told the men fighting in the United States. The Treaty of Ghent was signed on Christmas Eve in 1814, but the Battle of New Orleans, the final major battle of the War of 1812, was fought on January 8, and skirmishes continued after that until the news was able to reach Louisiana in the middle of February.

The War of 1812 was messy. It was fought on land and at sea, in the north, south, and in the west, and it didn’t really have a winner. Each side fought valiantly, and victories were won, but the real losers were the native groups and First Nations tribes who, despite their struggles, lost their land in the end anyway.

Since there was so much going on in Europe, it’s easy for lots of people to forget what was happening in the New World during this time. Those who have heard only a little about it are sometimes confused about what happened and find that it’s easier to ignore it. Although there are some who remember every battle and get annoyed when other people don’t remember their history.

This comic, and other awesome things, are property of the amazing Canadian artist Kate Beaton, and can be found at harkavagrant.com

Happy Defender’s Day, Maryland! Let’s never forget (or at least try to remember) the War of 1812.

What Twitter is For

So I’ve been on twitter for a few months now, and I’ve observed a few things.

1. Twitter is for paying attention to celebrities.

Twitter is an interesting website where celebrities share things with their fans, and their fans have a chance to interact with their favorite famous people. Before twitter, people sent letters or emails to their favorite actors, singers, and authors, but there was no way for the fan to know whether their words were ever read, or if the person they idolized spared some time to pay attention to them. On twitter, famous people can acknowledge their fans by favoriting their tweets, retweeting them, or even responding directly to them. As a fan, I can say that this is one of the coolest things ever. Meeting one of my favorite artists in person would be cool, but would also come with the awkwardness of real life: “I think you are really neat and your drawings are nice, and... I’ll... go now.” Twitter takes the awkwardness out of that experience, because on the internet you can say something stupid and it’s okay, because it’s not like you said it to someone’s face.

2. Twitter is for realizing that celebrities are actual people.

Nothing makes you more human than complaining, and twitter is for complaining. When you see your favorite celebrities complaining about their pets, how much their car insurance costs, and about how they can’t get their roommates to turn their music down, it helps you realize that this person that you’ve put on a pedestal doesn’t necessarily live up there all the time. Celebrities have real lives because they are humans just like their fans. Twitter is a good place to realize this because you can tweet at anyone you follow, whether it’s your mom or the CEO of a multinational technology company. And pretty much everyone complains on twitter at one time or another. It’s how we know they’re human.

3. Twitter is for promotion.

For lots of people, twitter is a place to promote their activities and their causes. Authors tweet dates and places for their book signings, musicians tweet the release dates for their new albums, and cartoonists tweet the places and times of fan conventions where they plan to exhibit and sell their work.

4. Twitter is a place to network, and develop new friendships with kindred spirits.

I’m not sure why I didn’t expect to meet a whole bunch of writers just like myself on twitter, but I should have. I started following a hilarious blogger, began giggling with someone else who was following her, and pretty soon I had a whole bunch of new writer friends, a club to hang out and write with on Friday nights, and lots of new blogs to read.

5. Twitter is a place to incessantly spew your opinions out onto the internet.

There are many places online to incessantly spew your opinions out onto the internet, but twitter is nice because it limits opinion spewing to 140 characters. Any subsequent agreement or argument is also limited in its length, so that sometimes makes triumphal parades or flame wars shorter by necessity.

6. Twitter is for cat pictures.

It’s on the internet. The internet is for cat pictures.

Twitter is many different things, and I’m sure other people use it a lot differently than I do. There are some people whose only goal on twitter is to get as many followers as possible, not for them to enjoy what they tweet, but just for the good feeling that comes with having five hundred followers. There are people who use twitter just to interact with their real world friends. And there are others who use it simply to pay attention to as many celebrities as possible. All of these are valid ways to use twitter, and there are tons of people who love it and use it all day, every day.

I find that I don’t hate using twitter as much as I thought I would. It is fun to follow people you think are cool because of their work. I mostly follow webcomic creators and cartoonists, and since a lot of those people know each other, it’s fun to watch them interact and sometimes to jump in and interact with them.

Twitter may be one of the noisiest websites on the internet, but it’s a lot quieter if you trim down the amount of people you’re allowing to shout at you. And it’s the only place that you can snark with your favorite celebrities and know that you’re making them smile. You can meet new people and make new friends. You can let your three fans know about your newest project. And since it is on the internet, you can complain about your roommates leaving their laundry in the dryer for days, and even post a picture of your cat sitting on top of the dryer in question.

Twitter is pretty fun.