I Read Your Xanga

“Yeah, I know, I read your Xanga.”

That’s what a friend said to me way back in like 2000 or so, when I told him about something going on, but I already blogged about it.

Now here we are 20 years later, and I sometimes know what friends eat for breakfast, or what television episode they’re watching, screenshooting the show in real time, adding text, and uploading.

As all the social media outlets fight to get and keep our attention, how much more can we possibly know? And in the end, it doesn’t feel like it brings us all that much closer.

Instead of Tweeting something out that maybe 14% of my followers will see, I’ll shoot someone a text instead. Or come here and write a draft, and let it simmer. Or usually I’ll forget all of it and go back to working on something work-adjacent, spending a few bits of energy tonight to make tomorrow morning a little easier.

A large portion of my energy goes to just getting through the days work, which during a nationwide health crisis is struggle enough. Then, if I haven’t eaten my stress and emotions all day I’ll feel fueled enough to get out for a run, which honestly has been a struggle because of said… stress.

Everything is energy, and my tolerance is brittle right now. I just feel like there’s not much to spare. It took everything to get through the week of the election without eating a bag of cookies every night, and now with COVID-19 cases surpassing 6,000 in a day here in PA, I don’t know… looking at a website filled with turmoil, “gotcha!” content, despair, and everything else is not top of mind.

“Are you okay,” mom would ask, 20 some years ago.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, I read what you put on Xanga.”

And here we are, in the year 2020. I write this here, at this hour, with the thought of friends letting down parents by cancelling Thanksgiving plans because, you know, less people will die that way, and tomorrow? Who knows? Energy will flow in the opposite direction and the next post will be more positive!