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For the first installment of Things I Used To Do, I want to ease into it by jumping into the not-so distant past. Let's warp back in time, back to the heyday of the social media platform that has come to be known as...

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Yes, that's right. You could be forgiven if you threw up in your mouth a little bit or if you went into a nostalgic trance for a couple of minutes. Take your time. Breathe. Relax. We'll wait for you.

You good? Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Let's proceed.

Now, I know a lot of you may have used Twitter before. Heck, some of you still use it alongside our beloved Steemit. It's cool, no judgement here. But, have you ever had hundreds of different strangers follow you and await your every word? I mean, really listen and reply to every one of your tweets. Oh, you have? Well, uh, cool then. I just though, you know ... I just thought. Yeah, nevermind. Here I keep thinking I was some sort of small Twitter celebrity, when all of it was just some distilled version of Steemit.

Yes, you heard that right. I used to use Twitter. * gasps * I know, right? Shocking.

Years before Steemit, I had carved a niche on that social media platform. I may have over-exaggerated a bit about my celebrity status, but I was part of a small writer's tribe there. Some people were more greedy than others, so it all fell apart. I think. I don't know. I just left and I was a lone wolf again when I returned. The truth is, it was even way harder to get noticed there than on Steemit. Maybe because of the size of the platform, and maybe Steemit will be exactly like Twitter when more users sign up. I mean, all the signs point to it being the trajectory. In any case, this isn't a discussion about the similarities between Steemit and Twitter.

Cool Origin Story, Bro

I signed up for Twitter one fateful day in 2011 because I was fed up with my officemates regularly demanding me to sign up to a social network. At that time, I didn't have a Facebook account, and people craved (yes, that's the word I'm going with) my online presence. I mean, why wouldn't they, right?

I didn't see Facebook as anything more than, I don't know, Friendster, I guess, back then, and I didn't want to be stuck in that sort of social media black hole. So, I turned to Twitter, and everyone flocked there to join me. Naturally. _{That, or some of them already had Twitter accounts, but I digress.}

I became fascinated about the 140 character limit. As you know, I'm not fond of posting short posts, so that was definitely a challenge. The posts were easily digestible, and there was a certain amount of escapism involved. From a background of writing lengthy posts, I knew I had to get creative to get my point across. So, that's what I did.

To fuel my creative hunger, I tried to be innovative with my posts, which eventually drew in a number of strangers to my account. Mind you, this was my first modern social media account, so interacting with complete strangers was a new experience. In no time, I had more followers than any of my friends that had accounts before me.

I tried to be witty, I tried to be funny, I tried to be a volume louder than what I am in real life. Twitter allowed me to reconnect with people I haven't spoken to in years, and it gave them an avenue to ask my why I don't have a Facebook account. I shrugged off their queries and continued to grow my audience.

It became a sort of obsession, much like how Steemit is to many people. When I decided to write my first novel, I decided that it would be a good avenue to market myself and be noticed, so I took it more seriously. I added pictures to posts, started chaining tweets and even started creating micropoetry and flash fiction, in the strictest sense of the terms. My efforts have resulted into several sales. But, those are stories for a different time. For now, I want to focus on a specific aspect of my Twitter life...

Back when I was working in the corporate world, I always used to commute going to work. Whether by bus, train, jeepney or car, commuting was part of my daily grind. To pass my time, I used Twitter as a means of escape. I had a Blackberry, so the internet was way cheaper with the data plan. Tweeting wasn't really data-intensive, so I was able to send and read tweets as fast as I could read text messages. I guess it became part of the selling point of Twitter.

I hated going to work, so much that I was constantly late. But, those are stories for a different time. In protest, I created a short story which I entitled #ChroniclesOfABedUnmade, in honor of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Chronicles of a Death Foretold. I was dying inside, you see, and I wanted needed an outlet before the stress would break me. At that time, I had put writing at the back of my mind, so it was just me goofing off.

It was sort of a poetic love story between me and my bed, and how I longed for its embrace. My job yanked me away from it, but I spent every waking moment dreaming about being in each other's arms once again. I spent the whole day periodically tweeting a passage, and ending an installment with our reunion. Sometimes I didn't come home, and there would inevitably be drama between me and my queen. I refer to her as a queen because my bed is literally a queen-sized bed. I know I'm weird, but I haven't gone completely off the rails.

Surprisingly, what I intended as a creative online journal elicited a few reactions. Sure, it didn't take off as a viral series, but I never intended it to be anything but an outlet. It gave my friends and officemates quite a few chuckles, and it gave me something to think about. This whole writing thing ... I must've been onto something there.

Here are a few excerpts from this series:

Okay, I may have exaggerated a bit about the reactions. Looking at them, I couldn't see any replies, but I distinctly remember it being discussed extensively on our team's Skype chat. 'Member Skype? Yeah, good times.

Speaking of commuting, there were other times when I switched it up and wrote about stuff I thought of while I was riding the bus. Upon reviewing the tweets, the aptly titled #busChronicles seemed to go on for far longer. Probably because of the traffic. Or, was I, in fact, more inspired by my journeys on buses. Aghast! In any case, I challenged myself to write a complete story before I alighted, so this was what I came up with.

It's too long to take a screenshot of it, so instead I'll just paste an unedited compilation of an entry here:

as i sat there trying to admire the view that refused to form into a coherent image, i couldn't help but drift off to dreams.
without a care i jetted through, with companion in tow, to a land of false hope and broken promises, fatigued and all.
bright lights and screams of success only masked the truth of darkness, loss and disappointment. a cover like no other, impressive.
"the house always wins," the sign did read, a challenge willingly accepted by the bold and the many. jitters started to creep in.
could the implied message be right? did we not have the gusto to outmatch this beast of a place. i wondered, as i clinched my provisions.
"smile," the lady did say, as we made our way towards the hole only few came out with smile intact. the lucky few, were we one of them?
i cased the place, with eyes that would make eagles blush. nothing like the real thing. no amount of novice preparation could prepare me
my companion, on the other hand, cut through the floor like knife through bread, with a degree of elegance rivaling that of rain on glass.
eager to begin, i sat clueless and helpless, knowing all the while every possible outcome. my hands trembled, as if it was afraid.
looking around i saw smoke but could not catch the smell of it. the air was filled with a feint aroma of pine. such dirty tactics.
oh luck, you test me, as if you are a familiar friend. you had no right to abandon me but then again i seldomly have you. cruel.
the floor was littered with the dreams of those who came before, puzzling how they seem to never leave this beast of a place, shattered.
i was not one of them, i couldnt be. i did not sacrifice lying on top of my mistress, in sleep, just to be one of them. no. not an option.
the night windled and my confidence grew. i just had my filling of the best that cajun cuisine can offer. i was ready. i was focused.
i through (sic) myself in, a man possessed, not unlike men whobare everything for women they admired. this beast would not take my soul, a promise
i clashed and it bit back. now i see the fangs it carefully hid. it drew blood and i was reeling but i wont let this get to me.
i rolled with the punches, i even landed a few good ones of my own. nerves creeped in and suddenly a stop! i was left dumbfounded.
i had arrived in my destination, i had to wake from this dream that this bus has lured me into. i had to face reality now, looking at the
past with only fondness. was it a dream? was it a dream, though? #buschronicles

It wasn't. Based on the timestamp, I remember this as the time a friend and I went to a casino instead of retiring to bed. We won a lot of money, but our greed forced us to yield to the house. Oh cruel fate.

Here's another one, but with a more poetic feel to it:

with friends in tow, homeward bound, we merrily sang along with the vessel's sound. #busChronicles
unaware of the ruckus we caused, tiny breaths of air are the only reasons why we paused. #busChronicles
friendships we lost and then rekindled, feels more and more precious as the night dwindled. #busChronicles
our paths have forked and now we must part, looking forward to the morrow's brand new start :D #busChronicles

Apparently, the 140 character limit was too much that I was able to include the hashtag to every tweet. For the life of me, I couldn't remember what happened that night. Must be an event where I reconnected with old friends, though I can't be sure. If only I had pictures, or if the other people had more detailed posts about it. If only I have Face... Oh. Right.

Here's one that elicited quite a few responses:

alone i sit, in a crowded vessel full of people. i feel more alone than when i truly was. sadness, my friend, i knew you couldnt resist me..
lights run past and im left alone to ponder, what happened to the bus filled with wonder? nameless faces, faceless names theyre all the same
not long ago, i found a part of me i didnt know i was missing. i pour my heart out to the backs of wretched seats but theyre not listening..
what was this part of me? i simply didnt know and so confusion engulfed me but i saw the light. this was the part of me who held my might..
during tough times this part was like my rock, my foundation, my winter heat. i realized then, this part made me complete..
i was not full but now i am left not wanting. this was happiness. i wish this feeling would stay but sadly this part of me has to go away..
this was not my choice yet i knew this from the start.. even if this part of me will go away it will always have a place in my heart..
the bus reaches a halt, time to fill the wounds left with salt. oh what sensation. come sadness we're here at our destination #busChronicles

Angsty, angsty, angsty. I remember this was the point where I wanted out of my first job, but I was tied to a two-year contract. Eventually, I created a startup that was acquired by a different startup which offered to buyout my contract. But, that's a story for a different post.

There were quite a few others, but I don't want to put everything here because it would make this post too lengthy. Also, since I'm happily engaged now, I don't feel comfortable posting stories about other women.

Speaking of my fiancée, I wrote my final travel tweet series when we were already in a relationship. It's actually something that I have posted on here before. You can check it out here. It was a series completely written while I was driving. Yes, I know, I know. I would just like to reiterate that it was wrong and dangerous. So please, don't use your mobile device while driving. Comprender?

En conclusio...

I decided to post this to remind myself (and everyone reading) that inspiration can come from anywhere and in any form. Write anything that comes up however silly it may be at the time. Who knows, with a little refinement, it may turn out to be a gem! If you often read during your travel, then you could use that time to write up ideas as well. Look at your surroundings and use them as inspiration. But, for the love of all that is good and holy, please only do those things when you're sitting anywhere but the driver's seat. Now, get to stepping!