It’s nearly time to leave Twitter.

Elon Musk, billionaire space enthusiast and edge lord, is on track to purchase Twitter by this Friday. He’s over-leveraging his assets to buy a social media site because, um, ego I guess?

It’s reported that Musk wants to turn the entire platform into an Everything App, like WeChat in China. He’s also averse to moderation, and plans to implement drastic staff layoffs.

Twitter stopped being the fun, jokey site I enjoyed some time ago. My experience on the site has become marked by dog-piling, hot takes, misinformation, and even outright hate speech. Existing Twitter moderation is woefully hands-off; tying their hands further would not improve the site at all.

When did I stop being enthusiastic about things I love?

In hindsight, I should have been much more vocal about my feelings about The Last Jedi. I loved, and still love, that movie for what it was trying to say, how its characters dealt with failure, how even the best of us can make bad choices and have to live with the consequences, how starship collisions can look transcendent.

I don’t know when I started to run on fumes. My last post was September last year (about the delightful Star Wars Visions, which has a second season coming later this year). I’ve had a bunch of blog post ideas since then. I thought I had followed through with at least one, but no.

Life got in the way, as it does, only this time it was a jack-knifed semi-truck blocking all lanes of traffic.

Has it been long enough to talk about Star Wars on the internet?

My feelings about the sequel trilogy – The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, and The Rise of Skywalker – are more complicated than the polarized love/hate of the entire sequence that crystallized just after The Last Jedi was released.

Well, perhaps not so complicated. I adore The Last Jedi, but was deeply disappointed in The Rise of Skywalker. This was in part because of its choppy storytelling, but also because of how reactionary it was, undoing every novel thing that TLJ introduced, seemingly as an act of spite. I can recall so many vivid sequences from TLJ, but TRoS exists in this haze. I couldn’t even remember what the MacGuffin was that Rey and the others were trying to find.

Sometime in late March, I contracted the SARS-COV-2 virus. I don’t know how, where, or exactly when – maybe at the office, where hygiene standards had grown lax, or just in passing at the grocery store. It doesn’t matter, and even if I knew for sure I wouldn’t say.

Two weeks later, I had a cold that morphed into the worst case of pneumonia I have ever had. After a night of nausea so intense that it literally knocked me out of bed, I went to the clinic, where I got my official diagnosis. I went into quarantine for two weeks, got some steroids, and waited it out.

When I fell ill, I was just a week away from getting the first shot of vaccine.

If you’re familiar with The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, you’ve heard of Vogon poetry: verse so stilted, so cliché, that is tantamount to torture for someone to hear it recited.

Anyway, I took down my recent poems. Pretension doesn’t become me. 🙂

(CW: suicidal ideation)

As I was closing on my house in October – amidst tribble-like avalanches of paperwork, hands squeezed with white knuckles as everything almost fell apart up until it miraculously came together – I was already preparing for an extended break from social media.

I was already emotionally exhausted from the interminable presidential election, months of lockdown and squabbling over whether the very real COVID-19 was a hoax (it isn’t), and things were nearly coming apart at the last minute as closing day approached. I had stepped away from Twitter, but Facebook was always there – where I could gloat about some small victory, or quietly envy my friends.

It was a no-brainer: I would need a break after closing, to give myself time for packing, pre-move renovations, and moving day itself. To make the house livable would take a bit of effort – new light fixtures, flooring, etc. I needed every second I could spare.

That’s the term JRR Tolkien invented to describe a terrible event that ends well. The climax of Lord of the Rings (when Sauron falls, not the scouring of the shire or all the loose ends) is a eucatastrophe. Luke Skywalker blowing up the Death Star is a eucatastrophe – because while the weapon of mass destruction was itself destroyed, nearly every pilot in his sortie was killed, and the rebellion had to retreat before imperial reinforcements arrived.

From my last trip to Brooker Creek Preserve many years back, I knew that there would be standing water on the trails. I should have known better. I did know better.

And yet I still wore cotton socks.

Brooker Creek regularly floods during the rainy season in Florida, which is any month you don’t need to wear a sweater. Portions of the trails close depending on how bad the flooding is. Last Saturday, when decided to visit, most of the trails were closed, except for a short ~2 mile loop.

But while I was drenching my trail runners and ill-chosen socks, I noticed some white petals on the ground. The magnolia trees nearby were blooming.

Angry? Me too.

Here’s a list of things you can do to help.

And here’s why identifying how you participate in white supremacy culture is only the first step.

Edit - 6/5:

How to be a good white ally

Project Implicit - Unconscious Bias Test. One of the first steps is seeing how white supremacy culture has affected your unconscious bias towards black people and other POC.

11 Black-Owned Vegan Businesses. Support black businesses always, but especially now.