I first stumbled into this corner of the Internet back when I was a sophomore in college and had watched a pirated copy of Twilight (heard of it?) on my laptop over Christmas break. I was also really, genuinely depressed. The great thing about this community (or that one, at the time) was that through our shared appreciation for the ridiculous, we actually made real relationships. I know I certainly got wittier from sparring in those comments, too.
I joined twitter to be able to talk to these people more, about things both related and unrelated to Taylor Llama. But at that moment, around age 21, I was terrified of being found out. I had secret names, separate accounts, and a whole other life online. I think it made things worse for my depressive state, because I’d often prefer to stay in and tweet so much that my account would get paused (remember? good times) rather than go out and experience being 21.
Eventually, I disappeared from that community altogether. Things reached a fever pitch, as they often do, and soon a breaking point, both with my own reclusive behavior and with that particular fandom. It wasn’t healthy for me and my mental state then to have a secret life to which I could retreat. Mostly because I wanted to run away from real life all the time.
But then this lovely community launched, and they somehow let me participate (shh, don’t tell them I’m just a huge Bekah/Nikki/Jamie/Beth fangirl.) The opportunity to actually be yourself and not apologize for the things you like was (and still is!) something completely novel to me. I’ve graduated to using my real, full name as my twitter handle, which gave me considerable anxiety at the time.
Me without makeup, because why not get MORE vulnerable?
This post could win the award for “most buried lead of all time,” but I haven’t posted in a while and I HAVE EMOTIONS, GUYS so here it is: how the hell do you balance work, friends, family, and f*cking Jericho Barrons in your tweets?! You can take that as a verb or an adjective, whichever you prefer.
This was never an issue for me before I got a job that suddenly gave me scores of SEO and content marketing followers. My personal twitter used to be just that: personal. Now, I’m followed by a ton of people who use their twitter account as part of their career, and I feel pressure to do that myself. But I tweet all day long about marketing on a brand account—my personal twitter is the equivalent of a nightcap at the end of a long day. It’s my own “staycation,” available at a moment’s notice.
It’s not like I tweet about anything that would damage the reputation of the brand I work for, but it’s a rather fine line. For example, my “wake up call” moment came when someone truly awesome linked to my twitter from a post on a popular marketing blog. My most recent tweet at the time? This:
Totes profesh. As I’m having career aspirations for the first time in my life, I’m starting to notice that most of the people I’d reach out to as mentors use their personal twitter to cement themselves as leaders in their field. But goddamn, is it ever boring.
Typical day at work.
Here’s my manifesto/rallying cry on the topic: If I’m “building my personal brand,” it better really be ME. While I care about my career (seriously, this is a new thing for me), I don’t want to work with or for people who would shun me for my Channing Tatum problem or urban fantasy habit. I have to care more about myself and what gives me joy than what might bring me the most money, recognition, etc.
Let’s make that f*cking normal, yea?
