“Twitter can be really stupid, too, like if you follow an idiot who updates on when they get their hair blow-dried. You know what’s really stupid? This stupid Fanatext,” George exclaims, after receiving one of those celebrity mobile alerts on her ex, Richard Gutierrez. “It’s like Twitter for celebrities. [My friends] put it! I don’t know how to take it out!”—http://www.philstar.com/Article.aspx?articleId=452625&publicationSubCategoryId=448
It isn’t difficult to “follow” a girl like Georgina Wilson. Especially if she demands it, waving her Blackberry Curve around like it was a crack pipe and she was the type of junkie about to jump you if you didn’t have the goods. And, just like people with an extra-itchy dependence on certain vices (in this case, it’s on a de-vice), who seem normal, who lead an externally peachy ‘n’ prosperous existence even — like earning a degree in commerce (with a double major in finance and accounting) in Sydney while hopping around Asia for modeling gigs — Georgina’s got the world at her fingertips. But she can’t seem to tear those fingers away from a tech tool that can tell every single person doping up on status messages like hers what she’s doing at this very moment. Of course, they don’t call those things Crackberries for nothing.
“I’m super addicted to my Blackberry. Gmail chat, Hotmail chat, every Facebook alert — someone pokes me this very second, I get it. It really does feel like a poke now. And I always find out about these weird, random things through Twitter. It’s actually very interesting. You should sign up and follow me,” Georgina insists. The idea of someone who rakes in enough moolah from facial wash commercials and bitch-pout billboards getting all geeked-out is both titillating and unsettling.
This Mocking Bird Can Sing
First time I heard about Twitter mid-last year, my social networking self was strung-out and worn-out from having to satisfy so many profiles. MySpace, I’d use professionally, to tap digitally in-touch musicians (from the Kings of Leon to a snowboarder/hotshot NYC DJ/boyfriend of Santogold — if you’ve got a specialty, you’ve got to be on MySpace) to interview for a magazine job I ditched a month ago (replies from the damn artists are rare anyway). There was Friendster, which I’d later scrap, along with its proliferation of seedy camera phone pics and sketchy friend requests. Multiply — to get persistent, photo-laden e-mail updates on how much drunken fun a friend’s friend had in her “Bouncy Batangas Beach Trip.” And then there was Facebook, which taught me how people base the strength of their friendships on whether they got tagged or not.
Sure, the purpose of these sites was clear enough, explainable by the following social networking equation: Stalking Capacity + A Means to Flirt with the World Via Your Profile Pic + The Ability to Collect Friends Old and New Like Trading Cards + Quizzes, Lists, and Acuity Accoutrements (75.8 percent Movie Compatibility — groundbreaking) that passive-aggressively Exhibit the Subject of You = Pure, Guiltily Pleasurable Distraction. The existence of Twitter, however — which allows you to type down a glorified status message in 140 characters or less — seemed to be as sad and ineffectual as some alco-virgin nudging random people at a keg party, announcing, with a strained grin and all, “Wow dude, I am so drunk…I’m drunk, right? Look at me, I’m drunk.” Or, well, as useless as a Facebook poke.
Until Georgina Wilson, Manila’s very own Helen of Troy, led me towards my life’s tweeting turnaround, that is.
“It’s the new way, it’s the future. It’s not like Facebook ‘cause you don’t say…” Georgina, social messaging abuser that she is, trails off, before maintaining a valid stance on her endorsement. “It’s like broadcasting your thoughts in real time. So imagine if I’m sitting here with you and I’m like, ‘Hey, have you read this book, it’s so good.’ Or, like, if I read an article in The Economist that I think is so interesting, I’ll blog about it or send out a tweet from my phone.”
“Tweet”: the town crier response of a Twitter enthusiast to its jump-off inquiry of “What are you doing?” Or “What’s up with you?” as in extra-casual catch-up conversation at said keg party — except you’re engaging in it by typing up a sentiment on the web or thumbing it into your net-activated Nokia N96.
“The whole interface is a reflection of what humans would be doing normally. Imagine having a huge conversation table with people that you’re interested in,” she explains of the micro blog’s “follow” option, which turns whoever turns you on — with their constant stream of free porn links, maybe – into an informant feeding you various points of interest on your site’s Twitterfeed.
“I’m following a few really interesting people that I’ve learned a lot from — and I’m also following Ashton Kutcher,” George adds with a giggle.
From John Mayer’s obsessive twit-picking (the constant tweeting was supposedly why his relationship with Jen Aniston went to bird shit), to the distress signals by Mumbai terrorism victims tweeting their loved ones, to all the people in a tizzy over Twitter (serving over 11 million), the scrimp-ortance of the recession seems to go hand in hand with a new wave of communicative minimalism. Of course, the filled-in just have to give their @-marked feedback in not so many words. You just know Snoop Dogg’s latest twizzle on his bizzle 18 minutes ago from web — “obama can do his thang” — will get @souljaboytellem to “hollah at mah boy” in the next hour or so.
Revolutionary small talk, you might call it, considering you go right ahead and give the way general public an amuse bouche of what you’re currently digging.
“Mike’s different ‘cause he searches trends,” Georgina says of the future — or futurist — she’s currently seeing: a guy named Mike Walsh, CEO of Tomorrow, an innovation research agency that serves companies enough enterprising sustenance to take on digital trends. “For example, our one friend who’s an Adidas marketing manager can see how people feel about Adidas. It’s really powerful if you know how to use it.”
Twitter is an endless buffet of info, apparently, with the topic you’re craving marked by a #. A tagged tweet about “rape” cliché Nicole, for example, would go a little something like: “That hoochie momma Nicole was glugging a whole lot of hooch that night. Wasn’t that enough evidence bitch wanted to get some? #Skanks.”
“Twitter can be really stupid, too, like if you follow an idiot who updates on when they get their hair blow-dried. You know what’s really stupid? This stupid Fanatext,” George exclaims, after receiving one of those celebrity mobile alerts on her ex, Richard Gutierrez. “It’s like Twitter for celebrities. [My friends] put it! I don’t know how to take it out!”
What the *tweet*!?
Strapped with the enlightenment I obtained from Georgina Wilson, I vowed to stray from the sort of senseless babble that mirrors a Richard Gutierrez Fanatext or post on the hair up there, and soon, heeded the call of Twitter. And to serve as some, uh, interesting leads to follow, I leave you, dear readers, with a few celebrity tweets worth following… (end).
May I talk out loud? I feel like I’ve been posting pictures that either Isabel or me has posted here already, but I hope it doesn’t bother you guys. I seem to can’t tell what’s already posted on this site to what’s not. I’ve been staring at pictures too long.
I’ll post some OLD articles about Georgina also, she says some funny things in interviews - so aside from right-clicking her photo and saving it right to your folder, spare some time and read our text posts too! :)