What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Because who doesn’t like a good foot scrub?
The thing with time and the way it flies the hell by is that I’m finally getting around to posting something now that’s about a month late.
But life is cyclical. And stuff comes back around, so it’s actually weirdly relevant again.
Let’s scooby doo time machine back to a month ago.
Remember when I told you how I was going to give my home office a pedicure? Well, I wrote up some notes from the super awesome Office Spa Day thing and had planned to share some of my process and insights with you.
If you missed it, the idea is that you spend two hours giving your home office some TLC so it loves you back and so your work can be more enjoyable (well, less stressful). By phone. It’s totally the future.
But, as I discovered, it’s also a great way to work on various stucknesses in your personal relationship with things like time, space, order and creativity. Big stuff.
The whole thing is facilitated by Jennifer Hofmann, seriously one of my favorite people in the entire world … so at this point, giving my office a spa day is officially my new favorite business ritual. There.
The first part of the spa (30 minutes?) is about figuring out where you are and what you want to work on. You know, to become clear on what the issues are and plan a course of action.
The second part (80 minutes?) is spent working on your own with whatever course of action you committed to — aka doing the thing. (Jen also gave out her private number in case we had a freak-out moment. Extra points for sweetness.)
Then you call back in (guilt-free accountability time) and spend the last twenty minutes checking in and figuring out where you’re going to go from there.
What it was like.
The first part: realizations!
During the first part we also did a cool little (non-cheesy) exercise about finding clarity and setting an intention. There were three understandings that came up for me.
The first thing I noticed was resentment. The stupid laundry situation. I know, what?
Yeah. So I’m a big believer in hanging clothes to dry. Which, when you live in Portland, happens indoors. And there’s really only one place that clothes can be hung to dry and that’s in my office.
And staring at hanging laundry is hell on my concentration.
The cool thing: as soon as the resentment surfaced, so did a possible solution: Could I do laundry Fridays so it can dry Saturdays when I’m not working? Yes!
The second thing was an image: What’s missing for me in Portland as a new transplant are roots and grounding.
This realization instantly triggered a memory of the poster I received as a gift from a Berliner artist this summer. It’s a painting of a tree and it says, “Für Dich blüht ein Baum“. For you blooms a tree! Perfect. And I know just where to put it.
The third thing was a word. Actually, I just experienced a deeper knowledge of something I was already well aware of — I value freedom in a big, crazy way.
Freedom. *sigh*
For me, feeling free is associated with order (among other things) and specifically order in my online life. For me to be mobile and able to work anywhere, I need my laptop desktop to be at least as organized — if not more — than my actual office space.
There were two specific problem areas:
1. The email outbox (draft city)
2. The “everything” file (that place on my computer where I put stuff that’s waiting to get filed, oy).
The second part: getting stuff done!
Most people have piles lying around the house or office that drive them crazy. For me, it was these two virtual computer piles. It felt urgent, so I knew this was going to be the thing to (nonviolently) tackle first. I didn’t set a specific goal — it was more like “Let’s see how much we can move through” in the allotted time.
The idea was: start with the outbox and move on to the “everything file”. The filter was: Can I turn this correspondence/interaction/idea into something that can become a blog post? And if not, dump it.
Well. What I actually got done? Three times more than I’d estimated.
Dealing with the outbox actually took only ten minutes. Be astounded with me for a minute here. I’d been hating on it for months and it took ten freaking minutes. Outrageous.
The next step was the “everything” file, which had 31 items in it.
It turned out that a bunch of things in here were PDFs I’d downloaded or products I’d bought and hadn’t made time to read / listen to / process. So I created a new home for them, and decided to devote an hour of “study time” each Sunday to this sort material.
Everything else either got added to a list of blog post ideas or got trashed. Awesomeness.
This part only took half an hour. I had completely overestimated how complicated it was. The funny part? I often have half an hour but always figured these digital plies were way too big for that kind of time frame — never even started.
The big realization: I’d avoided opening the folder because of a (false) assumption that each thing would be complicated and annoying. Hardly any were.
In fact, it’s amazing how much I could have ninja-pruned away if I’d just opened the folder to see what was there.
Then I moved on to my blog-in-the-works folder. Got rid of twenty items. AND (bonus!) found a completely finished post from a while back that I thought I’d lost. Rock on.
The third part: moving forward!
When it was time to call back and check-in, I was buzzing. And there were really only eight more items left to deal with, all of which I felt confident I could zap away.
It was pretty crazy how far my expectations were surpassed. But the main thing I felt was spaciousness. As in, even though there are still other parts of my office and business that need clearing up, those can wait because I just got some breathing space. Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.
The main take-aways for me:
1. Looking at everything — everything! — through the lens of “Can I use this for a blog post? And if not, can I just throw it away?”
2. Challenging the assumptions: “Is it that complicated or am I just assuming?”
Main point for everyone else: Jen is a freaking genius, but really, the combination of accountability and focused time is so incredibly powerful that Jen’s being a freaking genius is kind of just a bonus.
Next one’s tomorrow …
A month goes by really, really, really fast. Next one is this Wednesday. Like, tomorrow. Jen’s Office Spa. Worth it worth it worth it. There might not even be spots left for this month, but go anyway and see if you can still get in.
I know you’re wondering why you should bother to pay for an office spa when you could just take two hours off and organize. Because I wondered too. Aside from the fact that no, I won’t actually do that, the facilitation and the accountability and the awesome power of Jen transform the whole thing into something really sweet and comforting. Trust me on this.
Maybe I’ll see you there tomorrow and if not — next month. Bring all your awful stuck. Jen can take it.
Oh, and best testimonial ever:
Liz Loves Labor Day Blog-Lib Link Love
Um, a leetle explanation here
Today’s post is going to be kinda bizarre. I’m just saying. Don’t say I didn’t warn you because hey, I’m doing it right now.
So Liz Strauss — the same Liz Strauss who gave me that awesome “successful outstanding blogger” award that I keep forgetting to put up in my sidebar — decided we should play madlibs on our blogs.
Only with these madlibs you need to link to someone or something instead of coming up with a “silly word” or “something a child might throw at a wall” or whatever.
I don’t usually play goofy internet games but come on, madlibs? On my blog? I’m in!
This really, really needs a title.
(Too bad I used up all my creative juice filling in the blanks)
I had stripey fansocks, but I was looking for something to say to people who want me to go do some work. An adventure was in order.
A couple of galaxies down and one nebula over, I entered Powell’s world of books. I saw my favorite wordpress consultant making a Chris Brogan list with those Canadian guys with the writing implements about 50 ways to remove a splinter from your kid’s tender little behind.
Nearby Sarah Lefton was not going to get any more cats and Annik Rubens had just launched a terrible new celebrity clothing line.
Meanwhile, some multiplying spores were wandering aimlessly and asking, “Has anyone found a way not to be a blogging bozo?”
No one seemed to notice the group in a candlelit corner. Dressed in black, in cognito, San Francisco hero Luisa Tetrazzini held a rendezvous with the Get it Done Guy and the maybe future SWA blog-o-spondent. Rumor has it they were plotting to make stay-at-home dads feel insecure.
The meeting of folks from the museum of things broke into conflict with Sparky Firepants over the making of a boring company blurb.
That seemed HUGE until Naomi went and got her hand stuck in a box of wine.
James the dancing geek couldn’t shut up about that crocodile USB drive. As a result, two thousand people decide to not learn German and just be ironic instead, opt for a planned adolescence, and that meant we heard long, complicated confessions of a kept husband for days after.
The “blog” of “unnecessary” quotation marks reported that, “It’s simply the wind in your vagina.”
My own perspective is apparently pretty skewed so I’m just going to throw up my hands in despair and say, Thanks for the zombies, jesus.
End of story.
That’s it, guys. Thirty-one links. That’s how much I love you. Happy labor day weekend if you’re in the States and sorry that everyone’s gone AWOL if you’re not.
And yeah, if you want to play bloglibs on your own blog, go get the template from Mz Liz.
Friday RoundUp #4: the “internet famous” edition
Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
The hard stuff.
Sometimes things hurt.
So my friend committed suicide. We’ve covered that. And maybe you remember how shaken up I was when I found out.
Well, I’m still shaken up. Sometimes it’s a little easier. And sometimes it hits harder than others. And this week was just plain hard.
I go into a cafe and they’re playing some heartbreakingly beautiful song and I think oh, I’ll go up to the counter and ask what it is and then I’ll have something incredible to play for him when I’m back in Tel Aviv. And then I remember.
Or I eat a peach and I think, “Man, eating a peach is just the most fantastically ecstatic experience ever. Being alive is so freaking great I can hardly stand it.” And then I remember.
Or out at the Oregon coast, practicing Shiva Nata on the roof, with the ocean below me and the sun glowing at the horizon’s edge … I’ve never been here and yet it’s completely familiar.
Then I remember. The last time I danced Shiva Nata on a roof above the sea with the sun about to set over it was on his roof in Neve Tzedek. It was the Mediterranean, not the Pacific, but it’s the same huge sky. And it just seems like more sad than I know how to hold.
That was my hard this week. That, and working a little too much. Luckily there was all sorts of good stuff to sweeten the hard …
The good stuff
I’m not internet famous but I uh, act like I am on the internet.
Colleen Wainwright, aka Communicatrix, wacky and endearing queen of internet fabulousness asked me and Selma to be in her video. Hurrah!
Yep, she made a video to convince Southwest Airlines to make her their honorary Blog-O-Spondent (video blogger correspondent person?), which she totally should be, whatever it is. And she went and got a bunch of internet-famous people to be in it.
My duck was all yeah, baby, yeah. Cameo time. Because ever since Selma was on German television with me, she has gone all sorts of diva, I swear.
And now that people think we’re internet famous, my duck won’t even look at you for less than a thousand dollars. Kinda like the San Francisco twins, except without the pillbox hat(s).
Anyway, the video camera was on the fritz, so all I was able to give @communicatrix was a screenshot, but we still made the final cut.
Go watch the video and vote for Colleen so Southwest can pay to have her come hang out with me in Portland.
People hate me because I’m cool!
This probably shouldn’t make the “good stuff” list but it’s so funny I can’t stand it.
Last week a client of mine finally quit her horrible job after threatening to do so — but not acting on it — for six years. And this was after I did a one-time 90 minute session with her.
So now her friends, who have been patiently and supportively listening to her complaints, giving her sound advice, and saying “JUST QUIT ALREADY” for six years, are all pissed off at me for having gotten through to her so quickly.
Of course that’s not what happened at all. I mean, obviously I didn’t tell her to quit her job. Or to do anything for that matter. God forbid. I just gave her some techniques and then we used them to figure out what she wanted to do and how to do it.
But then she did it and is elated about having done it, and apparently it’s all my fault.
I can’t say I’m too upset about that but on second thought I do seem to be making enemies pretty fast. As another client said this week, “My husband is kind of upset that you’ve solved all my problems — now we have nothing to talk about.”
So I’m thinking that instead of client success stories, testimonials or whatever, I should just link to a page of fabulous hate mail from the friends, family and loved ones of my clients who are furious that we were able to work through their stuff so fast.
You know, “We gave her the best years of our lives and you only needed 45 minutes!”
That is both horrible and completely awesome.
And occasionally people also like me, which is also cool.
Laura Fitton (aka @Pistachio if you’re a Twitterite), someone I totally admire from afar, said the nicest thing about me:
Twitter makes my world a fountain of bright, gifted people. @havi is a favorite, for her posts like this.
Which is funny, because that’s how I think about Twitter. A fountain of bright, gifted people. And I’m always thinking stuff like oh, that Pistachio is so, so great. It’s weird to think that people are out there appreciating your work and you have no idea.
This was not only super sweet, but also a great reminder to go out and tell people how important their stuff is to me.
This week I went and told some people how awesome I think they are. Among them — in case you want to tell them too — Charlie Gilkey from Productive Flourishing, Alex Fayle from Someday Syndrome and Shannon Wilkinson who is just great and now she’s also blogging it up.
Oh, right. Naomi and I had a baby!
Love how the best part of my week totally slipped my mind. Naomi-my-internet-crush with the hot, hot stockings is the mom of my Canadian love-child.
Well, we gave birth to a how to promote the cool thing you do without being gross and/or getting tangled in scary, overwhelming horribleness program. And working with Naomi is so joyful and fulfilling and fun that I want to cry.
And not to stress you out but all but two of the VIP seats are taken. I don’t mean that in a cheesy, salesy “Why, there’s only TWO spots left” kind of way. I mean, be happy for me that we launched this thing yesterday and it’s already filling up like crazy with the best people ever.
That’s it for me ….
And yes, absolutely join in my Friday ritual if you feel like it and/or there’s something you just want to say out loud too.
Yeah? What was something good and/or hard that happened in your week?
And of course: happy weekend. Happy week to come.
Non-gross marketing and my Canadian love-child
If you hang out here a bunch, you’re probably wondering why I haven’t mentioned Naomi-my-internet-crush (aka Itty Biz) obsessively constantly lately in a while.
That’s because we’ve been secretly hanging out and engaging in passionate make-out sessions discussions. Discussions. Hot and heavy discussions. About interesting things.
Actually we have been brewing up a little something that is tough and powerful and hot.
But wait! I must backtrack.
If you don’t know Naomi yet … well, given that a big chunk of my readers are gentle spirits who, like me, are into yoga, self-work, and deep, intentional looking inward … it seems only fair to warn you.
Here’s the thing. Naomi is a potty mouth.
I love her to death and her cussing up a storm doesn’t bother me, but it wouldn’t be right not to let you know.
Did I say potty mouth? She curses like a sailor. Also, she called my duck a whore.
There’s actually a blog cussometer website that measures how much you swear on your blog — a site I hesitate to link to because: oh boy, time suck — and her ranking is a gazillion percent.
A gazillion? It’s 900% higher than that of most blogs. Close enough.
Yeah, I know I don’t exactly have wings and a halo here (my own blog is, after all, a place where “kosher-ass” is considered an acceptable adjective), but still. Nine hundred percent.
And she called my duck a whore.
I really cannot overemphasize that point. Although, to her credit, Selma did not seem to mind being dragged in the mud like that. It was like water off her back. No ruffled feathers there.
Ouch. See? Cursing is so much better than duck jokes. Not that I’m trying to distract you (I’m totally trying to distract you), but there are more important things in life than whether or not you’re a potty mouth.
Why I love Naomi and why you should too and then getting to the point.
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1. She’s super smart.
No. She’s more than that. Naomi is a small business marketing genius.
She knows a million useful things about how to market things, how to put yourself out there, and how to be successful doing it. And in a zero-sleaze, fully-authentic, non-irritating way. Which, let’s face it, is shockingly unusual in the world of internets.
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2. She knows her stuff like crazy.
Every single time she gives me advice, good things happen to my business. Fast.
I’ve had mentors. I’ve worked with business coaches. I’ve taken classes. She blows all that stuff out of the water.
3. She makes you happy when you’re miserable.
Remember when I was all sad because I was breaking up with my noozletter?
And everyone was telling me that this was the stoopidest and craziest thing I could do to my business? Guess what Naomi said?
So rock the f*ck on with the no newsletter. Nobody reads newsletters. And they make people feel guilty.
Because you signed up for it, you feel like you have some kind of cosmic obligation, whether to the writer or to yourself, to actually read it. But you’re busy, so you let like nine of them pile up and then you start resenting the sender like it’s their fault you can’t get off your ass to read your email.
See? She’s like a fun, drunk Canadian version of me. But curse-ier.
How is she like me? Let me count the creepy ways. Like me, she’s a Pisces. Actually her birthday is one day after mine. She’s a helper-mouse who genuinely cares about other people, and wants to use her powers for good. And she has my old haircut.
Weird, huh? Also, did I mention that my middle name is Naomi? It is. Weird, huh? I’ve got to stop saying that.
But mostly she just thinks intently and passionately about things I care about. We come to different conclusions occasionally but we hang out on pretty much all the same wavelengths, and that’s the important thing.
If I weren’t me and a yoga freak and all that stuff, I would probably be her. Luckily I don’t have to, because she’s doing such an impressive job of it.
And (drum roll please) here’s the scoop:
We’re going to be collaborating. Not in the creepy way though. More like: combining jedi forces to do good in the world and help people we like.
What happened was this:
We were on the phone, talking about how freaking tragic it is when people we love have an idea for a cool thing — or maybe they’re already doing the cool thing — but then they can’t promote it because promoting it is scary and overwhelming and uncomfortable.
And I was saying how I wished she could zap my clients with her ninja marketing skills and genius ideas.
And she was saying how she wished I could zap her clients with my calming-the-heck-down dust and smart yet wacky how-to techniques.
It was clear we had to do something.
And it was clear that this something should also be out there for people who aren’t our clients and who would never even think of hiring us because it’s too scary or too expensive or all sorts of other things. Because it’s not fair to them that they don’t get access to this stuff.
This something had to be the most accessible, affordable, full of awesome how-to-ish-ness program ever, so that we could facilitate breakthroughs and give people structure and support and work with people we think are fun.
Like, how to work through terror, overwhelm and rampant what-if-ization to feel safe, comfortable and supported doing the thing … all rolled into six weeks of study.
So we went to work.
It’s a boy! I mean, it’s a program.
Right. And what got born was the course I wish I had taken three years ago before learning everything the hard way. Really good stuff.
Anyway, here’s what I want you to do. If the theme of self-promotion for people who can’t stand promoting anything and don’t want to be gross but also would like to make some money sounds like something that might be up your alley …. take a look.
There’s a discount-ey thing for people I like. (IMPORTANT)
Naomi and I figured that we should be able to charge less when it comes to people we think are awesome. And actually, I kind of think that everyone who reads this is awesome.
So should you want to do our how to promote the cool thing you do without being gross and/or getting tangled in scary, overwhelming horribleness, yay. And then you can write the word havi in the shopping cart where it asks you for a coupon code, and it knocks $30 off the price.
(Actually, write havi in there first and press “apply” before you do anything else. That way there’s no chance of something going weird.)
This program thingie? Really fun. Yes, wildly helpful with seriously useful stuff, but also: there will be fun.
So drink boring non-alcoholic champagne with me in the comments, and then come play — because this is for you.
Twitter demystified and debunked
This is a post about Twitter. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I said I’d never do a Twitter post but people persist in asking me to explain what on earth I’m talking about.
And I’m gradually getting tired of giving my tough love “here’s the thing, you’re doing it wrong” talk to people who’ve tried it and think it’s boring or stupid. It’ll be a lot easier if I can just send them a link.
And anyway, I promised two readers of this blog who are Twitter newbies that I’d give them some tips.
The great debunking begins.
You know what? People talk a lot of trash about Twitter but really that’s just because they’re doing it wrong.
And can you blame them? Well, you could, but please don’t. It’s not their fault. I blame the Twitter myths.
Yes, it’s absurd that something so young has already acquired a stack of associated myths and legends, but there it is — so let’s take these babies apart. It’s debunking time, my friend.
Twitter Myth #1: It’s “microblogging” or something.
Uh, no. That’s not what Twitter is about. It’s not “microblogging”. No one says, “Oh, boy! You know what I feel like this morning? Microblogging!” Yuck.
(And, by the way, even if there technically was such a thing as microblogging? So what? Microblogging — for those of us who aren’t social media consultants — is an empty, boring, meaningless word. Meh.)
It doesn’t matter anyway whether it is or isn’t because everyone is wrong, and actually that whole tiresome “Gee, what is Twitter?” debate is completely over, because what Twitter is, as it turns out, is a bar.
It’s a bar.
It’s the local neighborhood bar/cafe thing where you hang out. A multi-dimensional neighborhood bar/cafe thing.*
*Only it’s online. And sometimes from your phone. I know. Get over it, it’s the future.
Why do you hang out in your neighborhood bar/cafe thing?
Because it’s your local. It’s your place. It’s where your friends are. It’s where you make new friends. It’s where you go because sometimes being smart and funny in your head just doesn’t cut it.
Is it always cool? No, sometimes it sucks. Maybe no one you like is there. Maybe it’s that new bartender who plays weird music. So you leave. But you come back later anyway because the good days are so, so good.
This bar/cafe/whatever has the awesomest people in the world and yes, some that are just not your people. Hey, it’s up to you to choose where to sit.
If you sit where people are talking loudly on their cellphones, blowing cigar smoke in your face or hitting on you, then yeah, it’s probably going to be yucky and horrible.
If you find a corner where a bunch of smart, interesting people are talking about smart, interesting things, it’s going to be engaging and soul-nourishing. And fun.
If you go and don’t talk to anyone, you might well wonder why you shouldn’t just have your beverage-of-choice at home. Yes, in that case it will be boring.
So. It can be the best bar ever or just that lame place on the corner. Your choice.
Twitter Myth #2: It’s about answering the question “What are you doing?”
No, no, no. This is a misunderstanding of almost tragic proportions, unwittingly perpetuated by the hapless Twitter regime.
If you try to follow the rules according to Twitter, you’ll get lost in a hurry. They ask you right up front to play the game by answering the question “What are you doing”. Do not answer this question! False start. Fail.
Twitter is not about “What are you doing?” in the exact same way that real-life conversations are not about “Hey, what are you up to?” even though they might start that way.
If you try to talk about what you’re doing (unless what you happen to be doing is boxing a poodle while stilt-walking with your poodle-booter troupe), you will almost certainly be boring.
And the first rule of Twitter is “Do not be boring!”
Worse, you may tend to be honest. You may say things like “Eating a banana” or “Taking my kid to soccer practice”.
I refer you to the first rule, mentioned above.
So what should you type into that little box?
Well, the question Twitter really means to ask is “What are you thinking? No, what are you really thinking?”
Or: “What do you think about the thing that you’re thinking?”
Or: “How about you let that voice in your head do the talking for a minute, eh?”
You know that inner voice? The one that narrates a steady commentary of funny, meaningful, goofy and profound things that you usually just say to yourself and no one ever gets to appreciate?
Twitter is that voice’s new home. It is where that voice goes to hang out. Because that voice needs a voice. I mean, it needs a bar.
Twitter myth #3: It’s a time suck.
Uh, no. Twitter does not have to be another procrastination thing. Again, I think you might doing it wrong.
It really only takes a couple of seconds to post something. There’s a 140-character limit, for heavens sake.
Then you take three to five minutes to catch up on what everyone else is up to, and you’re done.
It’s pretty much always going to be a shorter break than the “Oh, I’ll just check my email” rabbit hole.
And here I’ll briefly put on my giant “Hi, I just wrote a book on Dissolving Procrastination” hat so that you trust my expertise on this ….. Twitter is so not the enemy. It’s not. It’s one of the few “right-sized bite-sized” breaks you’ll find on the internets.
Twitter is recess. And recess is good for the soul. Yes, it can be a time suck. So can anything. Including poodle-boxing. But if you use it mindfully as a quick in-and-out, Twitter is actually a productivity tool.
A fun productivity tool that also doubles as the weirdest but most successful marketing technique ever and is also a bar. Beat that.
Twitter myth #4: There are no problems in Twitterville.
Okay, this is a myth that I just made up. A mythical myth, if you will. Twitter is far, far from a problem-free zone, but here are the three main issues and their solutions:
(1) As with any bar, there are people who come to get in fights. Some of these are people who just genuinely enjoy a good brawl and some of these are people who are mean, hurting, hate-filled trolls.
Don’t hang out by that one pool table if you don’t like fights.
(2) And as with any bar, there will be some creepy guys who want to buy you drinks. You use body language to tell them to back off (that’s the block button) and if they overstep, report them to @oddfollow and to the shift manager the Twitter people.
(3) And of course there’s the fail whale.
Sometimes Twitter is broken, and usually just when you really need that metaphorical whiskey or cup of coffee or whatever and your hands are shaking. It’s time to face up to the fact that you are addicted to Twitter. No worries. You’re in good company.
Take whatever smartnesses you were going to spread to the world and turn them into a blog post. It will be back later. Join the Fail Whale Fan Club. (I’m not even kidding, there’s a fan club.)
Or you can just go to IsTwitterDown.com and press the refresh key over and over again like a rat hoping for a yummy, yummy food pellet. We’ve all been there. It’s okay. You’ll be fine.
See you at happy hour, right?
If you want to follow me I’m the one in the pink angora beret I go by @havi. Just so you know, I sometimes say horribly inappropriate things that I would never say here. That’s because it’s a bar.
It’s also my very favorite place on the internets. It’s where that voice in my head likes to hang out. And I pretty much go wherever she goes.
If you want me to follow you back, talk about poodles. Or start up a conversation. I don’t bite.
Special thanks to Laura Fitton aka @pistachio who accidentally inspired this post by being awesome.