Twitter Blog Post

Are you following me?

"Just made a sandwich #yummy" announces @MickBurns23 with glee. His fifty online followers can now relax, knowing that he is no longer hungry.

Twitter users, and there are 100 million active users at this current time, spend hours of their lives posting personal updates up to the amount of 140 characters. 50% of these users log in everyday, both to post and to read about each others thoughts and feelings. And the best thing? You don't even need to know who's feelings they are. This is the supposed beauty of microblogging, that the users are connected to the whole world, not just people they know. There are users in Australia, Russia, Brazil, parts of Africa, Span, the UK and both North and South American to name but a few destinations that your followers could be living.

If you're still confused about what twitter actually is, K Bevan explains "Twitter, for those not in the know, is a collection of microblogs where people post their minute-by-minute thoughts and actions." This means that on Twitter you can post whatever you want and people will be able to see it and more people seem to be finding their way into the birdhouse and creating accounts, with eleven accounts created each minute. 750 tweets are tweeted each second and on a  busy day, twitter can see over 175 million tweets. That's a lot of chirping. 

But why are people so attracted to Twitter? Ann Handley says that "Twitter gives me an immediate pulse on news and events, and what people are talking about, often before any news outlet". This means that people are not only updated on casual goings on but also on important world-wide events. Twitter keeps you linked to every user, in every country, and often they will report a big news event before the media can. Twitter has been utilised by campaigns such as No More Page Three to keep followers and supporters updated on how well they're doing and also to attract more attention. See, the more people tweet about something, the more people from all over the world will see it.

Whatever you feel about twitter, it's here to stay; and seeing as if Twitter was a country, it would be the twelfth largest, I'd be preparing for a bird-shaped take-over if I were you.

Bibliography

Beevolve. (10/10/12). An Exhaustive Study of Twitter Users Across the World. Available: http://www.beevolve.com/twitter-statistics/#a3. Last accessed 17/10/13.

Bevan, K (06/03/08) article for The Guardian, Why are there no spam or trolls on twitter? Available: http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2008/mar/06/socialnetworking.spam Last Accessed 11/07/13 

Collier, s (16/07/12) 20 illuminating facts about Twitter: 2012 edition article on PR Daily http://www.prdaily.com'Main/Articles/20_illuminating_facts_about_twitter_2012_edition_12138.aspx# Last accessed 11/07/13 [relaible source?]

Enlow, B. (10/04/13). 15 awesome facts about twitter by @ShiftDM.Available: http://www.slideshare.net/KennethBradleyEnlow/20-awesome-facts-about-twitter. Last accessed 17/10/13.

Handley, A. (01.20.09). Why Do People Use Twitter?. Available: http://www.mpdailyfix.com/why-do-people-use-twitter/. Last accessed 17/10/13.

Travel Writing 2

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Travel Writing 1

Trapped. I was trapped under a blazing sun, with nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide. All thoughts of running, of fleeing, soon perished as I realised that I was surrounded. I tried to ignore the growing buzz around me, like bees swarming around a hive. I tried to ignore the pitying glances shot my way through the steam rising off plates of steaming food. I looked out over the sparkling, sapphire sea, wishing it would flow inland and swallow me up; to whisk me far away from here, so I could swim with the fish and the sharks. If a shark ate me, never mind, at least I would have met a happy ending, away from the horror that was enveloping me like a cocoon. 

When I'd sat down in the (very Spanish sounding) Green Panda Cafe, I'd had high hopes for the day. I ordered the traditional Spanish dish of a Goffrey from very nice waiter and proceeded to wait for the sweet waffle covered in ice cream and sauce to be delivered. By the time it arrived my stomach was rumbling and grumbling and hopping up and down, so with my spoon at the ready, I dived in. Suddenly, a hideous twanging sound erupted behind me and all thoughts of a perfect day were lost. I froze, heaped ice cream halfway to my mouth. The Curse Of Spain was behind me, playing their guitars, their banjos, their ukuleles, singing their disgustingly happy songs, moustaches twitching like dancing caterpillars on top of sweaty upper lips. A Mariachi Band.

Geoffrey Monologue

Geoffrey is sat in a wicker rocking chair in front of an open fire. It is late evening. An open Bible sits on his lap, an expression of contemplation on his face.

Victorious. I was victorious as I had gazed over my adoring congregation. My flock, my followers; all watching, listening dutifully as a herded them into the light. If only my home was as welcoming as my church. Reflection is the key to perfection I think, as I gaze into the fire.

My wife, my Susan, the joy of my life, the sweetest of all the flowers, what to do about her? Upstairs awaits my stale marital bed, a bed no longer filled with the joys of love, instead filled with turned backs and angry sighs. I don't know what went wrong. My congregation adores me, relishes in the messages that I bring from the Lord to them, so why does my wife gaze on with glassy eyes. Why is she so unwilling to share in the Lord's gift with me? I may as well live as a monk, for all the good my marriage gives me. Darn and blast it! I have needs. But no, my needs are not met. Anyway, I need to refocus, for I am not the one that needs to be led back into the light. Aye, that is Susan. Perhaps I should take her on a romantic getaway? The Christian Camp on the coast is renowned for it's simple way of life. Delightful, that will bring me and Susan closer together again. Yes, yes, I will book our places tomorrow. The vicar from Bromley will cover my servvices. Yes, yes, perfect. Absolutely wonderful.

Geoffrey is reading. 

I hear the stairs creak. I- Crashing from the kitchen. Is that smashing glass? How odd. The creaking resumes as my beloved makes her way back up to the torture of our icy bed, but I hesitate to join her. After our break I know that Susan will be right as rain again and as captivated with me as the lovely ladies at my church are.