Season's Tweetings

To tweet or not to tweet.

That is the question. Or not.

I'm on Twitter. (Aren't you impressed?) In fact, I'm so on Twitter that I have three separate Twitter accounts. One for my business, one for my cultural pieces (my weekly column in Women's Voices for Change), and one for this blog. 

I even have followers!

But, the fact that I have Twitter accounts and actively tweet (when and only when I have something legitimate about which to tweet, mind you) does not make me an expert "Twit." 

Not by any stretch of your — or my — pre-millennial imagination.

Did you know, for example, that there is an entire glossary of new words that have emerged from the Twittersphere? These are very helpful to memorize if you want to impress your peers or people older and less wired.

If, however, your goal is to impress teenagers, tread lightly. If there is anything worse than our not knowing the latest slang, it's knowing the latest slang and misusing it. 

Been there, done that.

So, just between us old folks, here are some terms that you may find interesting, amusing, or just plain ... well ... useless. (Don't say I didn't warn you.)

Attwaction - When two Twitterers are attracted to each other

Attwicted - Someone who is addicted to Twitter

Beetweet - A trending Twitter topic

Bird-of-mouth - Using Twitter to spread news

Deja-tweet - When a tweet feels strangely familiar

Detweet - When you tweet, then delete 

Drive-by tweet - A fast tweet sent in between other activities

Dweet - A drunken tweet

Eavestweeting - Eavesdropping on other Twitter conversations

Egotwistical - People who tweet about themselves too much

Mistweet - A tweet you shouldn't have sent (see "Dweet")

Twacklist - Blacklisted from Twitter

Twama - Drama unfolding on Twitter

Twamous - A Twitter celebrity

Tweekend - When you spend an entire weekend tweeting

Twendy - Trendy Twitter users

Twitamins - Tweets  with useful information

Twitterphobia - An irrational fear of tweeting

Twitterphoria - The elation when your tweet just nails it

You may not have a Twitter account. You may not tweet. But, the next time you find yourself at some fancy social event with the twitterati, at least you can feel confident about being up on the latest slang.

Because now, you're a twenius too.

You can thank me later. Better yet, follow me. ;) 

If you've enjoyed this post, I invite you to order the book Lovin' the Alien here. 

Fickle About Facebook

My husband is one of the last hold-outs when it comes to social media. Never mind that he's in marketing. Never mind that he's a particularly social guy in his analog life. Never mind that he is — and has always been — young-at-heart. Unlike all his friends and family (not to mention 1.4 billion others), he has yet to join Facebook.

He says he never will.

Of course, this makes it a little inconvenient when I see something on Facebook that I think he'd like. Instead of simply hitting "share," I have to click through to pull the content up on a web browser, then cut and paste the URL into an email and send it that way. In other words, what would take a half a second within Facebook ends up taking me three or four seconds.

The horror!

Contrast his attitude with our now-teenaged daughter's. A few years ago, she couldn't wait to join Facebook. I finally said "Yes" when she turned thirteen. We agreed to some guidelines and ground rules, and except for one incident when a camp friend posted some rather off-color birthday wishes (which I immediately made my daughter delete but not before her grandmother saw them, omg), we've never had a problem.

Meanwhile, I have really enjoyed using Facebook myself. Over the last few years, I've reconnected with friends from kindergarten, from summers at my grandmother's house, high school, old jobs, college and the theatre company where I rehearsed every afternoon (plus weekend performances) all through my teens. As a writer (of this blog and also for Women's Voices for Change), Facebook gives me an easy way to share my work and expand my audience. As a marketer, I can share news from my agency and samples of recent work. And, as a mother, I've proudly shared thousands of photos and horse show scores.

Facebook has also been a subtle way to stay on top of my daughter's social life. A number of her BFFs have friended me. ("Really," I explain to her as she rolls her eyes, "They friended me first.") Kids typically post pictures from parties, concerts and other outings. When she was in Spain last summer, I kept track of her comings and goings through her posts and those of her host family.

Recently, I posted a quick video of a talking goat (don't ask) on her wall. I knew she would love it. But, when I asked her about it after school, she hadn't seen it.

You see, Facebook, the very center of her life at thirteen, is now passé. Or, more accurately, Facebook is now where old people hang out. Old people like me, apparently.

Sure, my daughter still goes to Facebook for certain things. The girls in her class have created a page to share prom dresses. Her stable posts lesson and competition schedules (and, this year, snow removal updates). She browses her news feed, casually. But, it isn't the center of attention like it once was. And my daughter isn't alone.

A recent survey of teens found that Facebook has been replaced. Don't get me wrong, it's still in the top three social sites, but its popularity is definitely waning, while other sites are picking up speed. Take a look at some results:

More than 90% of teens use some social media

76% use Instagram

59% use Twitter

45% still use Facebook, BUT that number has dropped 27% in the past 6 months

These statistics are interesting, but don't necessarily spell doom and gloom for Facebook. Although their active members are decreasing, those that are still loyal spend more time and are more fully engaged than users on other sites.  

So don't sell your shares of Facebook quite yet.

After all, they own Instagram.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

That Awkward Moment

The one question I'm asked most often when people find out that I blog about my daughter is ... "What does your daughter say about that?" 

Nothing, really.

Since I started Lovin' the Alien, in March of 2011, I have asked my now seventeen-year-old to write posts. They could be her take on teen trends, musings about a current event, a review of her favorite show or book or app, even a rebuttal to something I had written. But no, her interest level was ... 

NOT.

Over the years, I did manage to sneak some of her thoughts in. Usually, it was a dialogue between us (her part consisting of monosyllables, groans and/or eye rolls). Once, I was able to include a passage from an English paper she'd written. But, as far as contributing to the blog itself, not interested. I don't know; maybe she felt it would be awkward.

Well, I'm reaching out to other teenagers via the wonderful world wide web. 

One thing they all seem to agree on is that, yes, there are times when you feel awkward. Plenty of them. In fact, sharing the whens, wheres, hows and whys (not to mention who withs) of awkwardness fills countless tweets from teens. 

I've collected some for you here. (I've corrected spelling to help those of us who weren't born after 1995.) Typically, these posts begin with "That awkward moment ..." And here's how they end.

That awkward moment when you're playing with your pen and it suddenly flies across the room

That awkward moment when you're talking to your crush and your gum falls out of your mouth

That awkward moment when you need to cough in an exam but you've already coughed like twice so you just sit there suffocating

That awkward moment when you're walking and then you start thinking about how you're walking and you feel like you're walking weird

That awkward moment when you laugh hysterically at something but no one else thinks it was funny

That awkward moment when everyone else is laughing hysterically and you're like"I don't get it"

That awkward moment when you have no friends in a class and the teacher says to pair up

That awkward moment when kids younger than you have a more interesting love life

That awkward moment when you see a 10-year-old with a better phone than you

That awkward moment when your parents try to be funny in front of your friends

That awkward moment when you spell a word so wrong even autocorrect can't figure it out

That awkward moment when your mom's doing the dishes so you put another one in and walk away real fast

That awkward moment when you meet someone and they're wearing more makeup than clothes

That awkward moment when you throw something at your friend and it hits someone else

That awkward moment when the dentist asks you a question while his whole hand is in your mouth

That awkward moment when you're in the car and you look at people in the car next to you and they're already looking at you

That awkward moment when you shout out the answer in class and it's wrong

That awkward moment when you walk out of your room in your pajamas and there's a guest in the house

That awkward moment when the doctor asks you what's the matter and your mother answers for you

That awkward moment when you're talking about someone and they're right behind you

And last but not least

That awkward moment when there's an awkward moment and everyone knows it's an awkward moment and someone finally says "AAWWKKWWAARRDD"

Yes. I can understand why that would be ... well ... awkward.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Social Media and the End of Sleepovers

I still remember my first sleepover party. It was thrilling. I had a Girl Scout sleeping bag; I was eleven years old. It was my best friend's birthday and she took a bunch of us to see American Graffiti, most of which, I'm sure, went right over our heads. Then we camped out in the living room of her sprawling upper westside apartment. Between the hardwood floor, the gaggle of giggling girls and the novelty of not being in my own bed, I don't think I slept much.

There were also the cats. I'm desperately allergic, have been since I was tiny. My friend had not one, not two, but three felines. Two orange tabbies and an enormous Persian. So, I went home the next morning sleep-deprived and sneezing, itching and wheezing, and with eyes swollen shut.

I couldn't wait to sleepover again.

For a preteen girl, sleepovers were pretty much the best of the best. As I grew into my teens, I continued to attend (and sometimes host) slumber parties. Lots of them. They fell away once I went to college, of course ("sleeping over" meant something completely different at that point). But, sleepovers will always be an important right of passage in my tween and teen memory.

For my own teenage daughter? Not so much.

She and her cohorts had slumber parties earlier than we did. She was still in preschool I think when a friend had what her parents billed as a "sleepover/half-sleepover" party. The girls all wore pajamas and the more confident ones stayed over while others were picked up by parents mid-celebration.

When she turned seven, my daughter had a "Superstar" makeover-sleepover. Two of her teenage cousins (who were considered cool beyond belief by the guest set) joined us for hair and makeup, manis and pedis. A couple of years later, we hosted another sleepover, this one revolving around her favorite TV show The Saddle Club. We covered the dining room floor in bales of clean hay (to this day, nearly a decade later, we still find the odd bit of straw in the cracks of the floor). Fun was had by all.

Now a junior in high school, my daughter and her friends don't seem interested in sleeping over anymore. In fact, she's competing in a big horse event next week with another rider (and BFF). I suggested, you guessed it, a sleepover. To her credit, my daughter didn't roll her eyes or audibly sigh. But, she politely — and quickly — declined.

Why have sleepovers gone away? Why would an otherwise normal, healthy, red-blooded American teen not want to be up all night gossiping with her gal pals? Looking at pictures of Hollywood heartthrobs, making crank phone calls, participating in seances and eating junk food?

Waitaminute.

That's exactly what they are doing. It's just that mobile and digital technology allow them to be together ... apart. They are pretty much having remote slumber parties every night. They can Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook. They can Skype or FaceTime or LiveChat. They can group message, share pictures, flirt, tease, post videos.

We insist that my daughter leave her iPhone in the kitchen every night. It's one of the last vestiges of the rules we used to successfully enforce. (Oh, and if you ask her, it's m-o-r-t-i-f-y-i-n-g!!!!!!!) First of all, we leave ours down there too. Second, if we didn't have this rule, she would get even less sleep than she currently does. 

And third, "Because I'm your mother, that's why!"

On the rare occasion that she goes to bed before I do, I can sometimes hear messages pinging through to her phone. Pretty much all night.

Hey, I was a teenager too once. It was the 1970s, which certainly may (which certainly does!) sound like ancient history. But, I'm glad I didn't have to deal with cyber bullying, texting or sexting when I was a teen. I'm glad I wasn't under the kind of pressure that high school juniors and seniors have to live with.

Most of all, I'm glad I got to go to sleepovers. 

Cats and all.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Hashtag A Star Is Born

Tinseltown lore has it that Hollywood starlets of days gone by were discovered at the soda counter of Schwab's on Sunset Boulevard. (Although, in reality, Lana Turner was found down the road at the Top Hat Cafe. But, I digress.)

Today's teen sensations are discovered elsewhere. Like the checkout at Target, by way of Twitter.

Just ask "Alex."

Alex's date with destiny began Sunday morning when someone tweeted a picture of him at work, bagging items for a customer. His impressive hair and adorable young mug spread like wildfire. It's only Monday now and Alex has been retweeted a million times. He's already been the subject of nearly a hundred news articles — serious, real, grownup news articles by such venerable publishers as The Washington Post, USA Today, Time and CNN.

So, who is Alex from Target? (Or, should I say #AlexFromTarget?)

Apparently, he's a kid named Alex who works at ... you guessed it ... Target.

And now, he's a superstar.

An Internet superstar, but a star none the less.

I'm reminded of the schematics the Center for Disease Control publishes when they have to explain how a virus grows into a pandemic. You start with one incident (in this case, a customer who thought her check-out boy was particularly #hot) and then she makes contact with a small group of other like-minded people. And so on. And so on.

And so on.

A young man in Texas, known to the Twitter community as @acl163 is purportedly the real Alex. He now has 397,000 followers. (For those of you in your prime like myself, a follower is a good thing.) He seems to be enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame quite a bit. And who knows where this may lead? Maybe he'll get a reality show. 

The #AlexFromTarget phenomenon is ... well, phenomenal. But, what's even more fun are the people who added a bit of creativity before they tweeted. Here are some of my favorite Alex memes for you ...

1. The "Dress Like Alex" meme

2. The Target circular meme

3. The Jerry Maguire meme

4. The "Girls Just Wanna Have Alex" meme

5. And the "This thing is bigger than both of us" meme

As a marketer, I've admired Target for many years. So, I wasn't surprised when they got into the act themselves. This morning, the superstore super chain posted the perfect response ...

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Concerts (and Cookies)

It's official. My seventeen year old daughter is a groupie. 

This isn't something I planned for. Who does really? We all want the best for our children, and here in suburban New England, most moms like me have rather lofty goals. A lawyer, maybe. A veterinarian. A journalist.

Not a groupie.

What immediately comes to mind is the movie Almost Famous. Suffice it to say, the film included plenty of sex and drugs as well as rock and roll.

Oh boy.

Of course, I went to my share of concerts in high school. But, growing up in New York City, two subway stops from Madison Square Garden, I tended to see really big shows. Elton John, David Bowie, Wings, Billy Joel, even KISS. Would I have liked to "hang out" with the boys in the band? Um ... probably. But, at that venue and with those headliners, it would have taken a much more enterprising teen than myself to get backstage. (Plus, I always had too much homework waiting back at the apartment.) 

When I think about the girls who used to follow bands back in my day (that would be the late 70s, early 80s), I picture free spirits in those skirts that looked like table cloths. The first week of freshman year of college, I met a girl who had followed The Grateful Dead around the country the entire summer before. Her greatest accomplishment was sleeping with an assistant lighting guy.

Probably not what her mother had planned for her either.

Years later, I was taking a bus from Boston down to visit my then boyfriend, a medical student at University of Connecticut. A group of hippies stepped out in front of the bus as we left the highway and headed into Hartford. The Dead were playing at the Civic Center and they needed directions. I got the sense they had hitched (or walked) a long way. And hadn't bathed in a while.

See above comment about parents' hopes and dreams.

So this past weekend, when my daughter explained that she and her BFFs were heading into town at noon for their 7:30 concert, I was a little concerned. Why so early? I really didn't relish the idea of them sitting on a sidewalk outside the club all afternoon.

"No," she explained, "The band is going to tweet where they'll be before the show so we can meet them."

Say what?

Back in my day, as a fan, you took the initiative to sleep with roadies or step in front of buses. That's how you got the attention of your idol (or got an STD or worse). Well, times have changed, apparently. Today's bands stay in touch with their fans through Facebook and Twitter. They let them know where they'll be and when. 

Granted these aren't the equivalent of the huge rockstars I mentioned earlier. But, these are bonafide recording artists and their fans are just as loyal and starstruck as we were (and they're shrieking just as loud too). I have seen the iPhone videos, trust me.

Of course, once I understood the reason for going in early, I became a practically perfectly paranoid parent. I launched quite suddenly into a list of all the things the girls should be sure not to do. Like take anything, smoke anything, drink anything. Go anywhere with anyone at any time.

My daughter rolled her eyes. "Our bands aren't like that," she explained. It was my turn to roll my eyes. "That's what you think," I told her then.

Here's what I think now. She was right.

The night before, my daughter and her friend made posters and toll house cookies for the band. They went in early, waited outside the club and when the band arrived, sure enough, the young musicians were thrilled to see them, to admire the posters, to eat the cookies and to pose for priceless selfies together.

My daughter had an amazing night — and I couldn't be happier to have been mistaken. 

We assume that "back in our day" was better. Not always. Not this time.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Selfies Are A Lousy Way To Take A Picture

I've been a mother for sixteen and a half years and we have never had lice. 

Quick, give me something made of wood so I can knock on it!

I'm not one of those snobby people who thinks lice could never ("neveh, neveh, neveh") happen in my emaculate home. This is the real world. Sh*t happens; so does lice. And, believe you me, we've had close calls. A voicemail from daycare, a notice sent home in an elementary school backpack, a veritable epidemic at gymnastics camp. I've bought the skinny-toothed nit combs; I've examined the scalp. (I've even experienced the psychosomatic itching.) But, to date, thank-you God, we have not had a single louse in the house. 

Amen, sister. 

What we have had our share of are "selfies," the ubiquitous self-portraits that today's teenagers take (and take and take). These get posted on Facebook; they are Instagrammed and Tweeted and Tumbled and who know what else. "Here I am in my room." "Here I am with a bowl of Doritos." "Here I am with my new haircut." "Here I am trying on Sophomore Semi-Formal dresses." "Here I am." "Here I am. "Here I am."

Old-timers like us don't know from "selfies." I'm not sure whether it's because shooting a self-portrait with an old-fashioned camera (remember film?) would be awkward, or because we had nowhere to show them off. My husband (a high-tech professional, but an analog guy at heart) once told me that he was about to take a "facey" because there was so much snow out front. I, being slightly, but only slightly, more fluent in mobile lingo, knew what a "selfie" was, but not what a "facey" was. I thought he was about to fall on his face.

For those of you who weren't born after 1990, basically the "selfie" drill is this: you pose, you point, you post, you wait for all your friends to hit "Like" or make insightful and original comments like "U so pretty."

My daughter isn't vain about her looks. (In fact, if anything, I think she underestimates how pretty she might be to the opposite sex, which makes my husband very happy.) But, she certainly puts up her share of "selfies." I know this because whenever I help backup her iPhone, I get to see all her photos. I try not to make a big deal out of it. So far, they've all been nice, smiling, fully-clothed.

That's the issue, isn't it? Between Justin Bieber, Amanda Bynes and Anthony Weiner (really, could the man have a more unfortunate name?), it's painfully obvious that "selfies" can get you into quite a lot of trouble. People, please. Put your junk away. No one really wants to see that.

And now there's something new to worry about. According to several stories in today's news, taking "selfies" is contributing to the growing cases of lice among teenagers.

Altogether now ... "Ewwwwwwww!"

Yes, the popular plural version of the "selfie" (a bunch of besties crowding together for a group self-portrait) seems to be the culprit. According to Marcy McQuillan of Scotts Valley's Nitless Noggins (a place I will never work), “I’ve seen a huge increase of lice in teens this year. Typically it’s younger children I treat, because they’re at higher risk for head-to-head contact. But now, teens are sticking their heads together every day to take cell phone pics." She goes on to warn that "Parents need to be aware, and teenagers need to be aware too. Selfies are fun, but the consequences are real."

On behalf of mothers of teens everywhere, thank you, Ms. McQuillan. Just what we needed, right? 

One more lousy thing to worry about.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.   

Amanda Bynes: Another Starlet Crashes

My daughter is fifteen. Over the past decade and a half, she and I have gone through distinct audio-visual phases together. First, there were Teletubbies (omg — should I assume that's what acid feels like?) and Elmo, then we went through a Disney Princess stage, several seasons of The Saddle Club, and eventually into live action teen movies like Princess Diaries and Freaky Friday. 

When my daughter liked a particular movie, she liked it. I mean, she really liked it. I can't begin to estimate how many times we watched Amanda Bynes in What A Girl Wants.

I didn't mind. (Or, after the third or fourth dozen time, it's probably more accurate to say, I didn't mind much.) The movie had a lot going for it: gorgeous shots of New York and London (two of my favorite cities); a clever update of Cinderella, complete with a thoroughly evil stepmother and stepsister; and an independent heroine who realizes that she has to be true to herself, prompting her hunky young boyfriend to offer one of my all-time favorite lines of teen advice:

"Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you're born to stand out?"

Hear that, girls?

After all the cartoons and puppets, What A Girl Wants was a particularly welcome pleasure for this particular mamma. Why? Two words: Colin Firth. Yes, the penultimate Mr. Darcy, himself, is the heroine's dad. Actually, I remember explaining to my daughter and a friend that I thought Daphne's father was dreamy. "Eeeeewwww!" they responded in unified dismay. As healthy American tweens, they only had eyes for the aforementioned hunky boyfriend.

And now, like Lindsay Lohan before her, promising young actress Amanda Bynes has made it difficult to watch her earlier work without being distracted — and disturbed — by her current crazies.

Bynes has been a star for more than half her life, starting with Nickelodeon's The Amanda Show when she was just thirteen. By the time she appeared in What A Girl Wants, she was already a familiar face, a household name, and the winner of a coveted (if slimed) Kids' Choice Award. And afterwards, she went on to do a series of similar teen films, including She's The Man (a high school version of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night), Hairspray, Sydney White and Easy A.

She seemed like a bright young actress with a bright long future. In fact, in any live appearances and interviews from those years, Bynes seems like the anti-starlet. Sober. Smart. Down-to-Earth.

Not so much anymore.

Three years ago, Bynes tweeted that she was retiring. A few months later, she updated and assured fans she was "unretiring." And then she hit a wall — as well as several automobiles, including a police cruiser, while she was DUI. An early and enthusiastic devotee of social media, much of her private drama has played out on Twitter. She publicly asked President Obama for help, she posed for bizarre and lewd selfies, and raged on pop star Rihanna. At this week's court appearance, she wore a cartoonish blonde wig, denied everything, and threatened to sue. 

Throughout, sadly, Amanda Bynes has been her own worst enemy. There's so much pressure to "live out loud." Today's tweens, teens and young adults equate posting with real life. But, putting it all out there is even more pitiful when what's on display is a legitimate breakdown.

I can only hope that Bynes gets it back together. I also hope that Amanda's former fans, like my daughter and her peers, can see all of this as a cautionary tale. 

Don't drink and drive. 
Don't smoke dope. 
And, if you're going down, ask for help ... but not via Twitter.