The fact that I can’t Tweet the title of this journal is vaguely annoying to me; the realization of which is seriously annoying to me. But less than 20 hours into this social media fast, I’ve noticed a few things:
- All the emails of “things I want to read” that were in my inbox come sunrise are already read (!), and it’s only 2:30. This is a big victory. The Lenny letter from last week is still there, and it’s up next.
- I woke up happier. Coincidence? Maybe.
- It’s inconvenient that I can’t go on Facebook or Twitter to research a client for an upcoming interview. I also can’t go on to learn more about a writer whose piece I just read, who I don’t need to start looking for more about just cause I’m curious. Flip side, I can’t share her really fun piece (10 Breakfasts with Men I’ve Known on Extra Crispy) with my peeps. Actually, I can with the LBR peeps. To Hootsuite I go. It’s not cheating. It’s work. Seriously.
Nighttime: I watch the USA play Argentina in the Copa Americana and wanna take to Twitter to see what the small but mighty posse of people watching are saying at America’s crushing defeat. But then I revel in having something even better: my friend and soccer buddy, Tim, texting me the observations his brilliant mind would be making were we watching together (which we had planned to do, but then I started feeling sick). The back-and-forth with him kicks the loss of Twitter’s ass! I go to sleep feeling like I’ve hung out with my friend. Which is so much more fucking fulfilling than the desperate looking to connect with people that I would have found on social apps otherwise.