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 Why I left Social Media...and What's Been Poppin' Since

I'm Outta here

This Is Me Off Social!

I feel like the drug dealer who's left the game and left a wake of pissed off customers. Not entirely, but I thought that'd make for a cool opener. However, more than a few people close to me have mentioned they miss my posts. In particular, the silly posts. Which, let's be honest, were most of them.

Life is short. And when dealing and battling the Big C, it becomes more precious. In her preciousness comes an appreciation of time. Facebook and Instagram were in many ways a time waster for me. Not necessarily the time spent scrolling and the like, but the time spent thinking up posts in my head while away from the laptop. I'd think, "hmm what to post next?" Or "shit, I haven't posted in 39 hours." Or just the thought that people needed my posts. How friggin' narcissistic is that, to think people hovered over phones and laptops awaiting my next one minute foolishness?

Worst of all were the platforms themselves. The algorithmic pushing and shoving probably pissed me off the most. Facebook would decide whose posts I could and could not see. The Gram made it near impossible to post from the laptop as opposed to the phone, because the phone app is where they can really "dial" you in.

And who was the idiot in all this? Me. Me, for staying in a game I didn't want to play. I stayed in it when it was not bringing me joy. We may not always get dealt the joy hand in life, but there are times when we can control what we ingest and digest. So...I puked out FB and the Gram. Forgive me my crassness, but writing about puke makes me giggle. Tee hee.

Now what, baby?

As I mentioned in my last newsletter, my book reading has elevated. And that brings me hella joy. I've also upped my 22 minimum minutes of daily yoga, to 31 minutes. Here's a little math: 9 minutes multiplied by 365 days = 3,285 minutes. That's 54.75 hours of added yoga per year. You may not think that's much, and if so, I don't really care about that friggin' thought of yours. I'm off social and upping the yoga so...put a sock in it, sucka!

Anything else, you ask? Yes, I'm playing drums almost daily again. And naturally, writing more.

Speaking of written words; It's unclear as to whether I will undergo the CarT cell treatment. Depending on the suggestions from my new (rock n roll) team at City Of Hope, I may continue with maintenance chemo. So...I decided to build outlines for all of the upcoming story ideas that tumble around in this big brain of mine. I may need to go ahead with the CarT, which will knock me down for awhile. But once I come out the other side and rise like a muscled up, Black onyx phoenix, I can hop onto any outline and blast through the next book! And by the by, the outlines are printed up and sitting pretty in a cheap ass binder. And there are 7 of them. Seven stories, soon to become novels, sitting at the ready on the starting line all with big block American muscle car engines. Vroom, vroom, baby! Vroom, vroom!

Awooooo!!!

This Never Gets Old!

My sister (shoutout to my sis) pointed out to me that a few people have asked her if I'm ok? "No, really, is he ok?" And others have reached out to me with the same question. My online farewell didn't sit right with some. They were suspicious that maybe my health was in more serious decline than I led on. Not so. I'm doing tremendously. Take it from me and my videos, I'll always give you the straight goods. If the health jazz goes sideways I will let you know. I'm the transparency brother, remember? That being said, it's been very sweet of those who've shown concern. And the continued love and support Sonia and I have received makes the battle so much the easier.

So...thank you. Grazie mille, Mucho Gracias, Merci Beaucoup and then some.

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