I work alone in an office in my home. Except for an occasional visit from one of our cats, my contact with other living things is minimal until my wife returns home from her job.
Twitter has become my substitute for on-site coworkers. Instead of half-overheard hallway conversations as people pass my office door, I instead eavesdrop on the disjointed postings of my Twitter buds. (My Twitter profile is here.)
I joined Twitter when it was first being discovered by the Internet illuminati like Robert Scoble.
It quickly became a form of social interaction for me. In exchange for reading quick, short texts from the lives of people I follow, I wrote quick, short texts about my own life. Equally inane, perhaps.
Some of my followers follow me and read my words as I read theirs. Most don’t. Most are well-known bloggers who couldn’t be bothered with an unknown like me.
But that’s not the point. Twitter-mates are the same as workmates everywhere.
When Jason Calacanis and Dave Winer have a spat at Gnomedex, it’s as if they are just outside my office throwing Nerf balls at each other. And when others join in the Nerf barrage, we followers gleefully peek out our Twitter doorways to watch.
Oh…got to run. Just got a Twitter from Nick Starr: the Krispy Kremes are in the break room.