Well folks, I went out and did it.

This afternoon, closing in on my 44th year in existence, I went and got myself a Twitter account.

It's a lovely account, and I've been admiring my username as it appears on my homepage for a while now.

For quite a while.

Admiring ...

For a while ...

Because ...

You see …

I don't actually know how to use Twitter.

There. I said it. I am a Twitter novice, a Twitter virgin, a Twit.

I have no followers; I'm not sure if I'm supposed to follow someone first, or if that's rude and perhaps I should just wait for someone to knock on my virtual Twitter door?

I can't ask anyone to follow me because I don't know how. And if I did, I don't know how to write like a Twit.

I know there's a trick to it, a hashtag ("#") here, an "@" sign there, but which one goes where?

I feel like the new kid in class all over again. Everybody knows everybody, and I'm hanging out just waiting for someone to come say hi, maybe ask me to sit next to them ...

Sigh ...

You'd think being the new kid on the block would get easier as the years go by.

In many ways, I think it's harder.

Back in grade school, I worried the kids would think I'm a twit. Now that I'm certain I actually am one, I worry that the other twits won't like me.