Guy stuff.
Of course, like quitting smoking or other addictions — and let's be honest, for some of us, Twitter had become an unhealthy addiction — it's left a gaping hole in my life. Over the years, Twitter had evolved into my main source of current events, engagement with topics of interest, and connections with people I've known for years but am unlikely to see in person any time soon. The spoke became a hub, something the marketer in me knew was very wrong.
Twitter is an irreplaceable platform for me, and I recently learned I'm among its small minority of "heavy users" who drive the platform's revenue. I've invested 14+ years and more than 51,000 tweets in curating an optimal feed that keeps me informed, entertained, visible and connected to the topics I care about most, and more importantly, other people who share those interests. I'm not as active as I used to be, but I'm still way more active than the vast majority of users, even among those I follow.
tldr: I'm doing pretty good physically now, but the mental side effects of having an unexplained stroke in the middle of a pandemic really suck. Running helps. "Go with what is. Use what happens."
[This was originally published by About.com in its Poetry section, back in 1999, in response to the release of Star Wars: Episode I The Phantom Menace. It was retrieved via the Wayback Machine as About.com no longer exists, and I'm republishing it here for my own archives, but also in an initial response to Boba Fett's return, about which I'm feeling a little ambivalent.]
Turning off the faucet after brushing my teeth, I felt a tingling sensation in my right hand that quickly raced up my arm, which was quickly replaced by racing numbness. The first thing I thought of was that “narm” scene from Six Feet Under, a show I’ve never watched but had been memed into my consciousness years ago.
