My coffee is getting cold because my hands are busy conducting my morning ritual — a social media symphony — to pick up the mug. I’m typing non-stop, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, pausing briefly to click the mouse and flip from one Internet browser tab to another.
In my mind, I can almost hear the music. The cool blue trumpet of Facebook as I “like” and “comment” on fan pages and accept “friend” requests, all the while messaging privately behind the closed doors of a group page.
Then there’s the bright red flute of Pinterest, as I jump from a mouth-watering recipe to a captivating destination, then admire a well-organized closet and pin the image to one of my bulletin boards.
I hear the constant swish of the brush on the snare drum as emails I’ve answered speed from my inbox to their destinations or plop into the trash.
While I peruse emails, I spy an interesting newsletter I’ve subscribed to using an rss feed, so I spend a few minutes learning that saturated fat is actually good for me.
That’s great news because the coconut oil I’ve been using in my coffee has congealed on the surface, floating like small ice bergs in the dark brew.
Twitter is perched in a new window, ready for me to tweet something witty with a hashtag, while LinkedIn notifies me that another person is peeking at my profile.
Oh, how I wish I could turn it all off, but there’s a chime as another close friend wants a quick answer on Google Chat.
Oh no, please don’t request to hangout. I haven’t changed out of my pajamas yet and my hair is a mess.
I have no one to blame but myself, as I willingly joined the band and taught myself how to perform in this social media musical. As an independent writer, a small-business owner, I have to participate in the chorus, or the audience will forget my name.
And yet, as I pick up my ice-cold coffee and sip, wincing at the bitter taste and the greasy oil it leaves on the roof of my mouth, I wonder why I wanted my name remembered.
Then I pull up my Internet site to upload a new blog post and I see my name and shiny new logo and smile. Ah, yes, now I recall, as the jaunty tune of “Fame and Fortune” from the old Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer plays in my head.