Sigh, Twitter.

I’ve been accused of being both stubborn and rebellious. Check and check. If you suggest something to me forcefully or repeatedly, I’m almost certain to avoid it for long enough that there can be no doubt of my motivations if I decide to, eventually, check it out.

That’s what happened with Facebook. People expected that I’d have a profile, and that I’d be their “friend” online even if we were only casually acquainted IRL. I quit, I never looked back.

More recently, I decided to quit Twitter in the way that I might become a vegetarian: for vaguely moral reasons and with weak determination. I disagree with the way Twitter operates, therefore I should abstain.

It’s time to confess, though: I like reading tweets, getting my tiny social fix in before diving back into code. It’s not substantial, not a replacement for anything, but it’s fun. It’s fun like Harry Potter and Avatar were even after I shunned both for way too long.

So with that in mind, I present my favorite Twitter memory so far, and it has nothing to do with the actual tweet: I was waiting outside a big box store for an iPad 2 (for work, mind you, I’m not like that) amongst two-hundred-or-so of Portland’s finest. A guy who looks like he owns a truck with big wheels but is really a hipster trying to look ironically hick-ish taps away on his phone for a few minutes then stops and yells into his phone, “That AIN’T what I TWITTED!”