twitter and sleep deprivation

Tired, tired, so tired.

Which is all Josh Malina's fault.

Well, okay, it's kind of mostly mine. I should have known better than to bait him on twitter regarding his - ahem - favourite West Wing co-star round about the time I was getting ready to sleep. The whole twitterverse promptly climbed on board and suddenly everyone was talking to me, about me, about me and Josh Malina in the same breath. And, he was talking to me.

I'm so tired, I said to my friend this lunchtime. I tried to explain.

"I couldn't turn off twitter when Josh Malina was tweeting me!"

"Why?" she said.

"Because he's famous! A famous person was tweeting me! I couldn't go to bed!"

"Why?" she said again.

And, let's face it, she has a point. I mean, I know why. I understand what goes on in that complicated brain of mine. But still.

Josh Malina is not only famous, he's the very best kind of famous. He's also funny. And he tweets me! Semi regularly! In fact, I have communicated with him this week more than I have with my own mother. (We're not close.)

So kudos to him for interaction with his fans, and making me feel special. (Ahem, somebody please take note.)

But, why? Why does it make me feel special that Josh Malina is tweeting me?

My friend had a point.

He's famous. (Think you've got that by now, though.) He's on the West Wing. He's one degree removed from ... well, you know, he who should probably not be named in the same breath. He's funny. He has 10,000 ish followers on twitter, as against my measly 300ish.

So, if he tweets me, if those tweets to me are mentioned on TV interviews, does that make me somehow famous too?

Somehow important?

Is fame really the same thing as greatness?

And even if it was, is contact with that kind of greatness what gives me my significance, my identity, my greatness?

Didn't think so.