I’m sitting here at my PC, which is in the unhealthy position of being right next to my bed. I have to be up by 6:00 for an appointment at 8:00. Instead of sleeping, I’m looking at my timeline and welcoming a new resister under the moniker of Ron Burgundy with a joke.
This is the Resistance. It’s glorious.
I am simultaneously meeting new people, watching my “mentions” light up after writing a tweet. It comes in great waves. A large (by my standards) account likes and retweets me and scores of people do so in turn. It peters out until the next large account catches it and it spreads again, slower this time.
I feel like I’m accomplishing something. Spreading ideas, thoughts, encouragement. It also feels like a skinner box game. I did a thing and things happened!
While I’m doing this, I’m also advertising where I plan to do more writing.
Follow @RFResistance, by the way.
The Resistance is at once deadly serious, but also playful and goofy. I learn about the latest atrocity from a digital cosplayer who likely makes more money than I’ll ever see. These people are wonderful. They could be doing anything else in many cases, but this is what they choose to do.
I’m up for this ride and the clock is screaming at me to pack it in for the night. The feelings are too powerful, though. Am I accomplishing anything? Well, if I made one person shame their member of congress yesterday, then I’d say I did.