I miss Twitter. Ya, it still exists, and there’s fun to be had, but it’s not quite the same. Twitter used to be the go-to SM hook-up for a quick dose of social interaction. You’d post a rando thought like, “I adore guacamole!” and within seconds you’d be chatting with ten people, trading guac recipes and marvelling at how crazy it is that avocados go from ripe to rank in a blink of an eye.
I miss that kind of serious engagement.
Now I’ll post a funny quip or question and nuthin’. It’s like outer space—silent vapid nothingness.
Twitter has become “The Upside Down” ala Stranger Things, but dotted with political rants and branded ads.
I miss my community!!! Where are you guys??!!
I also miss the instant feedback and real time interaction once found on The Twitter.
You can still rustle up some interaction on Facebook, but it’s hit or miss. And progressively pay to play.
As for blog comments? You’re more likely to get hit by an asteroid than hit with an actual blog comment from a living breathing non-bot human.
So where does an attention seeking social person find the love on social these days?
Instagram! But more specifically, Instagram Stories.
How are Instagram Stories different from your regular Instagram feed?
Instagram is where you display a photo (one per day, maybe two at most) to represent your life. A daily nugget to showcase the highs and lows—but let’s get real, there are way more heavily filtered highs than blurry, accidental reverse camera, poorly lit lows.
People might comment. But it rarely leads to a vigorous conversation.
But Instagram Stories folks…that’s where the fun’s at.
This is where you can share video or still shot snippets of life in the moment. Your kid is doing a live magic show in your living room and it’s awful but hilarious and you need to share it with somebody. Instastory. You’re grocery shopping and there are six super hot firefighters in aisle eight buying ingredients for firehouse chili. Instastory. You spot a zucchini that is unusually long. Guinness Book of Records long. Instastory. Your cat is wearing a sweater and people NEED to see how cute he looks. Instastory. (What? You know you want to see Kevin in his Christmas sweater). You’re at the mall trying on one piece pantsuits and you have no idea if you look smokin’ or like a human sausage. Instastory… and ask for feedback. (There’s voting emoji that’s perfect for that.).
Ta-dah! Instagram stories are the new Twitter.
The other day I was lying in bed nursing an injury when an Insta friend tagged me in a post. She said, “If you’re like me, you need to follow @LisaThornbury’s Instagram stories.” And she said some nice stuff about me which I can’t remember exactly because I for real think I have short term memory loss issues. Instagram Stories only last for 24 hours and then poof, they’re gone forever. (Unless you screen shot and save them). I need to write these things down.
But I DO remember messaging her back to say “THANK YOU!” And “I’d post an Instagram story thanking you now but I’m literally in bed, icing my ass.”
She messaged back without hesitation saying, well…it’s her joke to share and it was sassy and private so I’ll leave it up to your imagination.
Anyway, I enjoy her and her smart assery.
*Side note about my broken bum. This most recent injury (I tend to hurt myself a lot!) was especially dumb. Even for me. It was a rowing machine gone wrong incident. What?! I’m sure it happens. Doesn’t it? No? Fo me, slippery workout pants, shiny new rowing machine seats, and an overzealous rower spelled disASStor. I literally flew up and over the rower seat and landed hard on the two metal rower tracks. I actually landed slightly in between them and wedged myself in there real good and tight. And because my feet were strapped in I was stuck for a bit, held captive and wondering how I would free myself and how bad the bruises would be.
Short story, they were bad. By the next morning each cheek was swollen, purple, and burning hot. I’ve always wanted a hot ass, but not like this.
My son caught a glimpse and said my butt looked like two steaks—marbled from fat and stretch marks. Asstute. Thanks son for comparing parts of my body to a beefy rump roast.
It’s been a week since the amusing bruising and the hematomas are beginning to fade into a variety of hues. This morning my daughter said, “Mummy, your bum is a sunset.” Aw.
My husband claims the bruises are actually satellite images of the Caribbean from space. Good one.
Despite the topography of my derriere, it hurt like a sonofa and it’s going to take a while before I can sport a thong again. If ever. Okay, never.
So Kyla, this is your official thank you for making me laugh my throbbing ass off the other night.
If you’re not following @mommyisweird on Instagram, you should. She’s really fun and funny real.
If you have an Instagram account, but you don’t understand what the stories are about, here’s the story…
- Follow fun, interesting, like-minded people on Instagram.
- When you see their face appear in a circle image across the top of your Instagram feed, click their face bubble to start watching newly uploaded stories—they’ll just keep playing one after another.
- If you’re enjoying a story and want to see more, keep watching. Not your thing? Swipe left and it will move on to the next person’s story.
- Have a question or a comment about anything you’ve seen? Click “send message” at the bottom of a story to chat with the story creator. This will be a private conversation between you and your new Insta story friend.
Number four is where Instagram replaces Twitter for me—actual feedback and connecting with real people, sans agenda. Your conversations are private, so it’s honest chatter for no reason other than basic human contact.
Kyla and I have never met in person, but I feel like I know her. I also recently started watching @trina_stewart’s stories and we’ve formed a friendship too despite having never met. Her stories are fantastic. It’s like chatting with a girlfriend—supportive and funny and somebody who totally gets it.
And if you’re looking for friendly and real, and who isn’t? Follow @vanessaandmelissa‘s Instagram stories. They are 100% relatable and so much fun.
Hey, anybody want to see an Instagram story of my bruises? What do you mean, hell no? Fine. My family has made me swear an oath not to post my butt pics anyway. I like to keep it real and raw, but even I agree, bruised butt pics are way TOO real and raw.