Twitter

There was an article I read today in the Financial Post discussing how a study was done and 60% of Twitter users abandon the site within one month of joining the social networking site. One blogger noted, fairly, the study did not draw a comparison with sites like Myspace and Facebook.

However, I've always found Twitter to be useless. I, like many, don't use a cell phone for Internet purposes, and I don't use text-messaging as frequently as some. Sending short messages telling people "what are you doing?" can easily be accomplished on sites like Myspace and Facebook, which have more networking features than updates of what I'm doing. This makes Twitter absolutely pointless and useless to me from a home computer. Then again, I never understood why Myspace stayed bigger than Facebook for so long. I fell in love with Facebook's more streamlined, easy-to-use format with a lot less graphic-overload. Now and then I do admit to logging into Myspace for the original reason I ever joined in the first place, to discover new music. This is something Facebook hasn't outdone.

Hourglass

I can’t tell the difference
between the top or bottom,
the beginning or finish
of the hourglass.
I was born with little depth perception.
The bottom of the slide never seems to come.
Or perhaps I’m just walking a giant magnetic hill,
with its peak too far down.

A doctor prescribed pink-tinted glasses,
thinking they’d help me see better.
I don’t like what’s coming, though I still don't see it.
A 12 or 18-wheeler?
It’s not going to make a difference when it runs you down.
That photo in the local tabloid
of the man burned and bloodied.
I didn’t recognize
the name,
yet I still shuddered.

I can’t see where I’m going
but the feeling of my stomach dropping is not comforting.
I can’t see the top or bottom of the hourglass,
But know one way or another,
sand is falling.



I did receive some really bad news today, on a personal note, which I may or may not choose to post here until after the news is made official.

Last post for March

Hey, I'm almost halfway to my total of posts for last year. I've recently made a commitment to myself to write a lot more, so hopefully more information gets posted here in coming months, regardless if anyone reads this.

The Slam was a blast

So I did not make the finals for the Toronto Poetry Slam season. I care very little as I had a blast just being there. It was great to just be heard by such a massive crowd (people were turned away at the door from the Drake Underground). I was also hugely impressed with the feature poet, New Jersey's Jamal St. John. He was a master at using puns and his wit in general. He entertainingly addresses very serious issues with great intelligence.

I am excited about Rochdale Rhymes and Readings this week with That Brown Bastard, White Noise Machine and the Awfulest of National Poetry Month competition. The worst poem wins.

On another note, I've been following NCAA basketball over the last while. It's dawned on me, I cannot stand teams from the Big Ten. They play a brand of basketball that is so boringly defensive as they aim to hold the total score within 100. Normally I like Tom Izzo and Michigan State, but Big Ten b-ball of the last couple of years is uninteresting. I wouldn't mind North Carolina if Dean Smith or Bill Guthridge were still coaching, but I cannot stand the way Roy Williams will dangerously run up the score in tournament games. I am cheering for Villanova, and the way they've played, they cannot be counted out. They're as good as anyone in the tournament at this moment.

Toronto Poetry Slam

So tomorrow night is the semi-final of the Toronto Poetry Slam season. I am proud to say I am in the semi-finals. The top 12 poets in the Toronto Poetry slam season go to the semis. I have to be honest and say I finished 13th, but slid in because another poet dropped out. I am excited and honoured nonetheless to be competing. The top eight make the finals and the top five make the Toronto Poetry Slam team for 2009. They compete at "the nationals" in West Palm Beach, Florida for the American championship (or North American championship). They would also compete at the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word in Victoria, BC. In reality, there are some really great poets at the top and my whole goal is to just do my thing and let whatever happen, even if it means I do not move on. I am excited about tomorrow, regardless of the result.

Getting over some disappointment

So I got some bad news the other day. I learned a public relations graduate program I had applied for next year has rejected me. Originally this program was choice number three or four, but after going to their program session, was wholly impressed. The program jumped to number one, yet I received a rejection letter late last week and just opened it on Saturday.

My mind unfortunately did not think of things such as the fact I was vying to be one of 40 out of a crowd of 240 to get in. It did not think about how this was not the last program I applied to. I just had a feeling of unreasonable rejection, failure and no self-worth. It, combined with my job I'm over-qualified for left me in a stew for a couple of days. It has also left me nervous to whether other rejection letters are to follow, and whether my plan to get back into school will be railroaded.

I know I try not to post personal feelings here. And I can be positive and focus on the points I failed to focus on Saturday. But I'd forgotten after all these years how stressful school can be and I haven't even started again! Perhaps if all works out and I get back into school, this experience will throw my head into the mindset it needs to be in. That's as positive as I can be right now.

Exciting Announcement about Rochdale Rhymes and Readings

Rochdale Rhymes and Readings will return on April 2 at the Regal Beagle, 8 pm., 335 Bloor St. West. Features will be two fine spoken word artists in Rahul Gupta, aka, That Brown Bastard and Mike Smith, aka White Noise Machine. There is the usual pass the hat admission, but the open mic has a twist. We will have the second annual Awfulest of National Poetry Month contest. The worst poem will win a prize. So many poets have told me they can win this one. Come try to prove them wrong.