I admit: Twitter was one of those things I planned to do. After midnight on a half moon during a dental filling when the monsoon blew through my front yard.

In other words, if you asked me if I planned to learn how to Tweet – to share my deep, profound thoughts in 140 characters or less with the world – my answer would have been yes. Some day. After all, I was just waiting for the president to call and tell me the healthcare bill passed.

OK, it sounded boring to me. (Twitter. Not the healthcare bill. Because the healthcare bill makes for some interesting reading, let me tell ya.)

But Twitter? I don’t think so. Isn’t that what birds do? Tweet? And why would anyone want to see me do anything in public that sounded remotely like an animal noise?

Then it happened. The 506th person asked me if I had a Twitter account. That, and my potential book publishers started asking questions like, “What are you doing to stay in touch with the world?” So of course it made perfect sense for me to do something as humiliating as the word “tweet”.

I set up my account at lunchtime during the full sun without the dental filling during perfectly clear weather. The experience only lacked one thing: a Surgeon General’s warning. The Twitter site should have said, “Warning: this program is highly addictive and may cause severe withdrawal symptoms for approximately 72 years.”

I’ve tried to quit. But I can’t stop Tweeting. I Tweet at midnight. I Tweet at the half-moon. I Tweet at my dental fillings. I Tweet when I hear a monsoon blowing through my front yard (turns out my neighbor has a pretty powerful leaf-blower.)

It’s fun, this Twitter thing. Once you get over the humiliation of what it’s called. But I guess I should be used to that. Some of you have been telling me for a while now that I’m a real Twit.

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BJ Hamrick is a recovering Twitter addict who can be found at www.twitter.com/bjhamrick… when she’s relapsed. She loves connecting with you since she became the new editor of Real Teen Faith.