Leaving Twitter

So I decided to delete my Twitter account. 

I have taken this step not without a little anxiety. I have gotten used to communicating with a wide variety of wonderful people I have never met in person, in some cases may never meet, on a daily basis.

I have also offended a great many people that I didn’t even mean to. Because of Twitter.

Thirteen years of my life are chronicled on Twitter.

But are they? It’s mostly trivia, promotions and shitposting. My children’s photos aren’t there, my plays aren’t there.

My more complicated thoughts aren’t there — some of those are here, though, on this blog. I'm keeping this blog.

Have I made a single dime from Twitter? Advanced my career? Has anyone produced my work because I posted about it on Twitter? I don’t think so.

Lin-Manuel Miranda liked this one.

Twitter aggravates me. Unwelcome posts by horrible people aggravate me. I don’t need to be made aware of their daily nonsense. Their power to irk me lowers my resolve. It makes me lose hope. Tell me what else Twitter does for me can possibly balance that out.

Now that an authoritarian-curious cartoon villain billionaire dingbat has purchased the company, what can I do but absent myself, and hope that others follow.

Let you in on a secret. I bought stock when it went public. To see what might happen. Nothing did. Hung onto it until I might dump it at an appropriate moment, and that moment was yesterday. Made a little cash, but not much.

Anyway, I’m nervous. And excited. It’s like kicking a bad habit. It is kicking a bad habit.

You can find me here.