Every now and again, I get a little tweet happy and I feel the need to pull in the reigns. I mean, sometimes I'm funny, witty and sarcastic. Other times I'm boring. Sometimes I feel like I've got something to contribute, others I feel like I'm tweeting just to people don't start to un-follow me (it does help me with my Etsy to tweet).
I feel empowered to have a voice and multiple platforms on which to express it. I have mentioned it before here, but I went to school for writing, and when I want, I can make a point. I love writing, after all, I am a grammar nerd. Dan caught me once distracting myself from cleaning by reading the illustrated Elements of Style, and I (99% of the time) like cleaning!
This, I feel is probably where my writing background comes in and I realize, that I have no point. What I say has no purpose or direction. Essentially, I'd edit myself out if I had the ability because it isn't clear and concise. Thankfully, only in a rare time, do I get what I'll call "Erin-pression" I'm not depressed, but I'm certainly not myself. It falls usually when there's a big event, be it for better or for worse, but I start analyzing the words I use.
Words are so powerful and moving, but they can also be rather useless in a world that's so saturated with media and technology. Words help, but a picture can be just as poignant. I found myself last week complaining with coworkers about how hot it was in our office (no AC) when I happened to glance at a calendar realizing there was a date coming up that struck a cord with me. I realized in that instant that who cares? Really, if I could change the reasons for that dates sensitivity and be stuck in a sticky, sickly gross office for the rest of my professional career, I'd do it.
I tweet/blog/email about random crap that bothers me like traffic. Well here's something brilliant, I accepted a job in the city 19 miles from where I live. I knew taking this job that there would be a commute with hundreds of others every day that would muck up my mornings and evenings. And more importantly, I was not the only one that had to deal with it. Really, I don't get too bothered, I get temporarily annoyed, no sooner do I arrive at a job I really love, or my apartment that houses a husband whom I really love, that a slight inconvenience is nothing compared to how thankful I am for both.
Do I think my words will change the world? Absolutely not. However, as of recent events in my life, I will begin to look at the big picture. Sure, it's hot in my office, but I don't live in this office. There are homeless people on the city streets who would love to be able to call my office theirs, who would drive miles for a job at a pay less than mine just to have health insurance and food on the table.
In a few more words than I'd like to with this rambling, I'm going to continue to use my voice, but the whiny bitch is being muted.