I don’t get much traffic at this blog.* Google Analytics tells me that it has been found via search engines exactly once so far:
*I said this on the phone a few days about my collective new blogs. After all, they’ve only been live for a week and I have done next-to-nothing to promote them yet. No sooner had those words left my lips than I saw Guinness Globetrotter had received 10,000 unique visitors from StumbleUpon in its first 24 hours, and a couple hours later the official Twitter blog sent a good chunk of traffic to Oh, Twitter. I remain amused (and appreciative).
I am officially out of my storage unit as of yesterday, and the very last box I loaded into my car brought back some fond memories.
Two years ago, I had a prescription overnighted via USPS from Walgreens. Tracking showed that the package had arrived, but it was nowhere to be seen. I left a very polite note in my mailbox for the postal worker, inquiring as to whether she remembered seeing it. She left a note in return that yes, she had my package, but she wasn’t sure it was for me. I leave another note asking what I can do to prove the package is mine (??). She then leaves another note that says, verbatim, “I’ll get to it when I get to it.” She finally delivers the package a full five days later.
I could have written to her supervisor, but I wanted a more satisfying revenge for her incompetence.
So I went to the post office down the street and mailed myself a box of dictionaries, which the postal worker then had to carry up two flights of stairs to my apartment. Since we had only communicated via notes up to that point, she didn’t put together who I was, and was all friendly to me, making a joke about how heavy the box was and how far she had to climb.
My reply: “It’s a shame they give women these jobs.” Silence.
Every week, I mailed myself that same exact box of dictionaries, with my address clearly listed in both the TO: and FROM: sections. Every week, she had to climb those stairs and bring it to me.
Moral of the story: don’t mess with my package delivery.
Shawn tagged me in a meme and I wasn’t sure where to respond. Now that I have a spot where my more personal stuff won’t impede others’ productivity, here we go…
- I have a horrible sense of direction. North? East? What are those? (Perhaps to make up for this, I am *really* good at remembering a route I’ve already traveled once, even years later.)
- I don’t believe in past-life regression, but if I did, I’d be positive I used to be a Hungarian woman. This implausible hunch started when I randomly picked up the DVD of Marta Meszaros’s “Adoption” and felt an uncanny sense of familiarity with the background images. (Why was this Cold-War-era Eastern European flick at the Hollywood Video in downtown Salt Lake City? I’ll never know.) But here’s the kicker: when I spent a week alone in Budapest the following year, I didn’t get lost — not once.
- I am horrified by the sight of wide-ruled paper, which makes shopping for new journals very uncomfortable.
- As a pre-teen, I danced in parades dressed as a monkey to promote a local children’s amusement center.
- I last saw my biological father when I was in high school, and he still doesn’t know that I know who he is.
- Growing up, I always wanted eight children. (Now that I am a grown-up, I want zero.)
- I have never lived in just one place for longer than nine months.
- I love hospitals. I volunteer at hospitals frequently because I enjoy simply spending time in them. I even love the food. I think it’s the combination of cleanliness, technology, and sense of security.
What are eight things I don’t know about you, Christine, Vanessa, Keith, and Jay?
When I was first introduced to Twitter, I thought it was sort of silly — just a knock-off of Facebook status updates.
Initially, I was only Twittering with one offline friend, and when he moved on to Pownce, I abandoned my Twitter account until I read that Guy Kawasaki was going to give Twitter a try. Out of sheer curiosity, I went back to Twitter, and the benefits keep pouring in.
Thanks to Twitter, I got:
…to avoid a car accident. I mentioned that my tires were squealing every time I turned a corner. Despite my lead foot, that still seemed strange. Several helpful Twitterers pointed out that my alignment was probably off, and they were right.
…a Guinness and taffy! (and a boyfriend) In yet another testament to how small the world is, Damon found me by tracking the keyword “Seattle.” (He lives there, and I was headed there for a week-long business trip.) Lo and behold, we went to the same (very small) boarding school back in Connecticut *and* used to vacation in the same city in Maine, and had a number of mutual friends. Not only did he buy me a Guinness when we met up, but he also brought me some strawberry taffy from his recent trip to Maine — my personal heaven! [UPDATE: Damon and I started dating shortly after that Guinness and are still together nearly two years later. Not bad for a tweet, eh?]
…even more Guinness! I was one of the first people to follow Stephen and he graciously bought me a Guinness, too. Even better: he shared this photo of a flying pig:
…a new web designer. Frustrated with outsourcing anything beyond basic data entry, I turned to the Twitter world for help. I got *five* great recommendations for high-quality designers, and then realized — thanks to Eric — that someone I already knew was a designer and available for the job.
…a much faster computer. Jeremy heard me complain that my MacBook was slow and sent me an email with instructions on how to upgrade my RAM from 512MB to 2GB. I can’t believe I suffered with those slow speeds for so long!
…a new addiction. JKow introduced me to his Internet-based show, Something to be Desired, and I’m hooked — it’s so good, I caught up on the first four seasons in one weekend.
…an up-to-the-minute news source. Thanks to the Truemors News Network, my RSS feeds are quickly becoming old news. (Newspapers? What are those?)
…blog traffic. Google Analytics shows that Twitter is by far my biggest referrer.
…a mnemonic device for remembering how to say “almond”. Of all strange faults to have, I’m known for being unable to pronounce “almond” correctly. (I always said “Al-Muhnd” instead of “All-muhnd.”) Bill dared me to leave said mispronunciation on his voicemail, and our resulting conversation cured me of this problem. (I can’t stand Al Gore, so I shouldn’t say “Al-muhnd”!)
…lots of great new friends. i didn’t understand how at first, but Twitter is really a strong networking tool. Not only does it make Internet gods like Chris Brogan and Guy Kawasaki more human and accessible, but every day I get to participate in a new example of the power of numbers — raising money for college tuition, offering support or information during times of crisis, or simply cheering one another on through yet another all-nighter on the way to achieving our dreams.
I’m sure I’m missing a number of other examples, and I’m positive that Twitter will continue to affect my life in many more ways as time goes by.
If you’re not on Twitter, what are you waiting for? And if you are… how has Twitter changed you?
(Follow me on Twitter by clicking here: MarinaMartin on Twitter.)
