Drinking Poison

The public square is sick. It is time to choose a new one.

I was up early this morning. I read the papers before heading to Twitter.

What a mistake.

The blue bird and its deranged disciples spew venom and, worse, get high from the toxins.

I once found new, unique information there, but now I find myself physical repelled by it.

By 5 am, I had committed to not look at Twitter again for the day. If I continued to drink its poison, I would have been in a mood. I would have been off. I would have been slightly more pessimistic, slightly more cynical about the world.

I would have adopted its characteristics: the qualities of unwell people I will never know and do not respect.

Who wants to start (or end) the day like that?

Instead, I can create a routine that does the exact opposite.

I could make my bed.

I could work out.

I could eat a high-protein breakfast.

I could read a great book or listen to Zeppelin’s 45-minute version of Dazed and Confused.

Most of all, though, I could make a conscious decision to spend my time and emotional bandwidth — the things I control — with good people who give me great energy. I could try to do the same for them.

In other words — whether on Twitter, at a terrible job, or when debating family over the holidays — don’t drink the poison.