Thirty Days to Look Back

As of today, I have 30 days to look back. Yesterday evening, after eight years of dispensing thousands of Tweets, I deactivated my Twitter account. I left four personal tweets thanking my 11,000 followers. This, according to my teenage boy and the Season Twenty South Park writers, is known as a Twitter suicide note. I committed Twitter suicide.

The first 4,000 to 7,000 of those followers were those who watched my show, who watched my pundit videos, who watched my stand up, and who read my political rants. They either laughed along with me or laughed at me as I interviewed irrational protestors, grass-root organizers, fake celebrities, and up-and-coming politicians. They supported me, commented, and always had my back when trolls would attack. And, most importantly, they came to my live shows.

Then there were those who stood by me when I quit comedy. After dealing with an unhinged producer, who was dumb enough to threaten the safety of my children in an email, I walked away from comedy. The fun was gone. Surrounded by crazies, I threw in the towel and re-dedicated my life to studying math and physics. It was very liberating. I went back to school got another degree in mathematics, and fell back in love with my first true sweetheart…science. (Yeah, sometimes my husband gets jealous of this.) I lost many followers at this point, but then, over the course of 18 months, watched my Twitter followers double, as I began to share my love for math and science.

Then there were my professors. Some I followed because they are fantastic online professors. Other professors found me on Twitter. I realized that I needed to be on my best, insightful behavior because my GPA could be contingent on the cogency of my Tweets. Then again, maybe not. Maybe my professors were just looking for a follow back, and I really can’t hold that against them.

Then there were those who followed me because I had cleverly been punked by the likes of William Shatner, been publicly encouraged by fellow comedians, or simply engaged in conversation with a few super famous actors.

As a side note, those who know me well know that I cannot engage in a non-virtual conversation with a celebrity without making a complete ass of myself. For me, the veil of the computer and the Internet makes these conversations much easier. I'll save my celebrity stories for another blog. Let’s just say, I tend to take the dumb elevator to basement level number 5 when I’m in the presence of a notable personality. 

I wasn't super famous on Twitter. And I always did try my best to follow back to those who had something valuable to contribute to the Interwebs. My latest interaction was purchasing the children’s book Mars Rover Rescue by Andrew Rader. Mars Rover Rescue is an adorable book that I plan to share with my girlfriend’s daughters (GO GIRLS IN STEM!!). So for those of you authors who say that Twitter followers don't buy books, I am proof that they do...again and again and again. (GO BOOK ADDICTS!!) 

But, at the crux of it all, I counted on Twitter to provide me with breaking news. There's no doubt that Twitter is the most up-to-the-second platform for breaking news. This phenomenon, in my opinion, was most evident when the news of Michael Jackson's death hit Twitter long before it hit the news. For me getting my news feeds from Twitter is like an I.V. morphine drip of yellow journalism.

However, what finally did it for me was watching one man, supported by millions of fake troll accounts, rise to power. One tweet at a time, he influenced millions of people looking for a change to vote for him. And, while other accounts were suspended because of their bullying tactics, the world's greatest bully continued to rise to power. Meanwhile, fake troll accounts and fake people validated his tweets with praise, support, and ads for liberal tears coffee mugs.

I know I was not the only individual reporting his account for bullying. Yet Twitter let it unfold, Twitter let the circus continue, and Twitter looked the other way while the narcissist rose to power. And while he was busy distracting us, fake news outlets were dispensing information that simply was not true. Finally, when the election was over, the world was shocked. We were all distracted while one man rose to power all at the undertaking of fake news, propaganda-driven mass manipulation, Russian involvement, and false support.

I didn't leave Twitter because I had a bad experience. I loved my Twitter followers, and I loved those whom I followed. However, rogue accounts, alt-right, and alt-left accounts started popping up on Twitter. As of January 21, 2017, I couldn't tell where the truth was coming from, and I did not know who to trust anymore. The noise was intensifying, I couldn't hear my own thoughts, and I was becoming distracted too.

Distraction is a dangerous thing. It takes us off course. It keeps us from looking in the right direction. It pulls us away from the causes, the people, and the values that mean the most to us. I did not want to be a distracted victim, yet, I was. In the blink of an eye, the country that my grandfather moved to, the country that he believed could make dreams come true, was becoming a country where dreams die. And on some level, because I too was distracted, I feel partially accountable for this Disaster.

So now, I have 30 days to ponder my decision. Do I reactivate my account or do I virtually walk away and never look back? Do I hold steadfast to my values and principles? Or, do I let my curiosity get the best of me? Do I let go of my need for self-validating retweets? Or, do I reach out to my virtual friends knowing that they are my special place of unique connectivity?

 

I have 30 days to look back. I have 30 days to install various news feeds, write, think, look at #pitbullsofInstagram, and ponder the value of Twitter…not social media, but Twitter. Did Twitter feed the monster? Does Twitter feed MY egotistical monster? What is the soul-draining, time-sucking price of a retweet? Am I above it? Or, am I part of it?

I will let you all know in 30 days.