My First TweetChat

I have been on Twitter for some time under my professional name.  But I never saw the appeal because it was boring.  I did not care that my colleagues in Wisconsin were having a fire drill, that another colleague in New Haven was drinking a beer, or that another in Florida had food poisoning.  And if that wasn’t bad enough there were the links to professional articles.  People, I’m an archivist.  I am not a scientist driving the Mars Rover.  You can only read so many tweets about records management or organizing manuscripts before you put down your smart phone, remove the battery cover, and slit your wrist with the sharp edge.   Rather than court death I just stopped.

It is when I started the blog that I embraced the real networking aspect of Twitter.  And, well, breast cancer is not records management so actually connecting with people could really be valuable to my own survival.  I wanted to connect with patients, providers, people who put the disease behind them, and those who live with the disease.  And it has been a wonderful experience.  My horizons have really broadened and I’m learning a lot.  Twitter is now an effective tool instead of a magnified view of the latest argument over who makes the best pencil.*

So tonight I participated in my first TweetChat.

And I am completely traumatized.

I can multitask, but fer crissakes you’ve got 100 people in there all tweeting and twatting and chirping and burping and I can’t keep up.  I see one great comment, but by the time I’ve formatted my comment (I’m CDO, remember?) I’ve lost it.  A question is posited, twenty tweets follow all connected to the previous 100  tweets, I scroll back to make the connections, 100 tweets have now been pushed out since then, and I have to read them because I don’t want to tweet the same thing someone else says, and then I get retweeted, and I’m trying to figure out what the hell they tweeted and who the hell is @sarcasticboob, oh and . . .  Fuck me!

I think I learned something valuable about collaboration among patients and providers.  And lots of folks had really interesting things to say.  I’m going to try this again next week.

I just  hope I don’t become an alcoholic trying to keep up with #bcsm. ‘Cause, baby, I need a drink.

*Oh, and for the record, it’s Dixon-Ticonderoga. 

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8 Responses to My First TweetChat

  1. I’m new to Twitter (at least, actually using it), and am totally overwhelmed trying to figure out how the damn thing works. I’m post treatment (stage 3 triple neg), in remission, pre-reconstruction, and am having a harder time dealing now that treatment is over. Really glad to have stumbled upon your blog and a BC community, and will lurk for a little while until I figure out the hand jive. Thanks for the laughs! -Trish

    • Scorchy says:

      Cancer is easier than the TweetChat.

      Thanks for stopping in. I’m hear for you–let loose and contact me if you ever need to vent. Glad the treatment and all is behind you–now it’s life after. And I gather that’s more difficult than we expect.

  2. Katie says:

    I still barely know how to use Twitter, and the thought of doing a TweetChat? (I’m just learning such a thing existed right now, I feel like one of those old people that’s out of touch with modern times) is enough to raise my blood pressure.

    • Scorchy says:

      I was checking out Twitter and saw MT. What the hell is MT? I have to go to The Google and search for Twitter Abbreviations–which I keep on my desktop now so I can refer to it. Modified Tweet. I think if I modify a tweet and don’t put MT in front of it I’ll get a demerit or something. Do we need this level of pressure?

  3. I am LAUGHING MY ASS OFF right now… You always make me laugh but THIS is hysterical!!! Were you on tweet chat? And more importantly, where are we going to tweet on Monday? We have to do side by side tweets so we can make it into a drinking game. Every time someone RT’s – a sip. Every time someone says a word, it’s a shot. You pick the word. I’ll bring the shot glasses… and we’ll keep this a secret because after all.. all of that drinking isn’t good for us…..

    Traumatized…. can NOT STOP laughing…

    I love ya!


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