Photo by Thanhy Nguyen on Unsplash

I’ve got at least a handful of email lists I want to unsubscribe from for various sundry reasons:

Problem is, I don’t know how to cut the cord, nicely, without repercussions.

One guy, a musician I befriended after a favorable review, takes every unsubscribe request to Twitter and makes a petty, public example of it. (He’s already stopped following me on IG, after I stopped following him first, so I don’t see how one more rejection will matter. Social media is so stupid.)

Not sure how I missed his dick moves before.

These leftovers often require me personally contacting them to ask to be taken off their email list. Most of the other ones were easy; just click on a link to unsubscribe, praying I don’t get sent off into another Spam rabbit hole.

Of course, I could just stop signing up for email lists altogether. I can, now. My son graduated from school last year, he’s no longer required to jump through their overly-regulatory hoops. Live music’s dead inside, so there go the weekly gig reminders. That blush-pink leather diaper bag doubling as a portable backpacking luggage purse? Highly overrated. Over it.

I don’t know about you, but only about five percent of my email’s personal. Maybe even less.

People don’t email anymore, least not to me. They don’t even talk on a phone. It’s all text and posting for likes.

The only reason I even use email is for my work (writing/editing/researching) and sometimes communicating with my husband when I need him to do something. He tends to check his email during his software testing job more than text.

Why am I telling you this? Procrastination + Distraction.

Tomorrow, I take the written driver’s test to switch over from WA to ID, and my mind can’t take much more studying. My anxiety about failing is through the roof, too.

All I seem to want to do the past two-three days of having to study is write revenge fantasies about the past, quick and dirty pop reviews (have you heard Demi Lovato’s latest?), and essays about real racism, #StopAsianHateHypocrites.

And stuff myself with bad food.

If, G-d willing, I do pass my first try tomorrow, I’m pigging out one last time (I swear) at one of several awesome Twin Falls breakfast places, then taking a long nap before I reset for a lot of deadline-oriented editorial work to come in the next two months.

I’m also still on the fence about opening up my own Facebook account, after quitting over five years or so ago. It’s another social media time suck I don’t want or need.

Can you imagine the email then?

Originally published at on April 4, 2021.

Jazz Medium©: Feeling the music, one review at a time.

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