In which Twitter goes subcutaneous

I am exceptionally annoyed that I genuinely can’t think of anything that I accomplished this year beyond the raw fact that at least so far I’ve survived the motherfucker. I replied to this on Twitter and said that all I could really think of were some minor social media metrics– the blog is going to get more hits than last year, and I’ve written here more than last year, and I’ve built my TikTok account from zero to nearly 5K in the last few months, but … I feel like calling those accomplishments is giving them more credit than they deserve.

Like, I read a bunch? And as of right now I’m caught up on my grading? That’s what I’ve got to brag on.

Survival’s going to have to be enough this year, I think. I’m putting off trying to achieve anything until at least February.

(Also, it’s a sign of just how tired people are of this year that they’re starting to try and trigger the end-of-year reminiscence and award-season bullshit in November.)

4 thoughts on “In which Twitter goes subcutaneous

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