My mission to detach from Facebook didn’t go nearly as well as expected.
But this blog is merely an echo of the last.
Also, I keep paying for this blog address and completely ignoring it.
I’m still glad I never got into the Twitter thing, no matter how old that makes me sound.
Forget Snapchat and Instagram.
What’s not to understand about the draw to social media, though? In 2006 I found my posse. I’m friends with two dozen people I’ve never met–and mind you, I do mean friends after eight years of interacting, no quotations or alluding here as I used to do in the early years. I’ve seen marriages end, relationships begin, new jobs, big moves to new states and even countries, successes, failures, regrets, or proud moments. And their kids…stinker activity, varied report cards, graduations, clever one liners, brilliant questions about life/love/the universe, and growing into their own skin. Pictures of nearly every one of those things came attached. I’ve been there watching as 4 year olds became 12 year olds and that’s what *really* blows my mind. The passage of time is different in the uNetverse.
Facebook has become the default for the electronically social middle ager (and nearly everyone else). I could just as well post this jibber-jabber in the notes section and stop pretending “the blog” hasn’t gone the way of the dino for amateurs and enthusiasts, but I’m not there in spirit yet and I might never be. There’s a lack of focus in my sharing for this blog to ever become one of the Big Blogs that draws cash, accolades, and an audience, but I also have zero interest in being that public. I have no central fascination I’m dying to write about and no authority through experience to speak about something that hasn’t been done to death elsewhere.
My reluctance to setting this blog on fire and walking away has got everything to do with the collective writings in the sidebar. A smattering of nonsense that began on Yahoo 360, transitioned to Multiply when that died, then was dragged here kicking and screaming when yet another site bit the dust. I shop at the same grocery store and get my gas at the same station. I’m reluctant to change when I find a groove that works. There’s just something about giving in and acquiescing to Facebook that doesn’t sit well with me, and that’s likely tied to the notion above that this spot is a dino bone. It makes me sad. These writings are where my eHistory is stored. You might not have any interest in perusing my nonsense circa 2006, but it sure as hell amuses me.
I’m the little old lady underwear come to life, the person who’s tried to get them all back to the same type of place we met. I miss the long, rambling updates about their personal lives and the nonsense blogs about the ridiculousness of life on Earth in general. Facebook is too immediate, too impersonal, and something has been lost in the transition. Facebook has also become a real downer with all the yammering and infighting about whatever’s hit the news. I see endless gun tragedies, child abuses, religious hatreds, political manipulations, and planet killing “accidents” in short, opinionated smatterings bandied about like candy thrown from a parade float. It’s not good for my overall opinion of humanity, and it does absolutely nothing for my day to day joy levels. So why do I keep going back? Well, it’s the clubhouse, of course. Without all the negative drama there is no reading between the lines to see how my friends are doing. You don’t just bail on people because you don’t like the ads and privacy issues, do you?
Maybe you do. I don’t know. I won’t go into one of those cliched rambles about ditching the web. This ramble is cliche enough as it is. We’ve all said we’re done with the whole mess and we’ve all come back. But I can admit that the three inch thick layer of dust on this blog is about Facebook and being one of a tiny handful of the old gang to still blog on occasion. Writing here feels like speaking into the void now. I can sit down with my coffee in the morning and scroll updates on Facebook and not find myself bored before the cup is drained. I haven’t felt the pressure to perform feats of writing magic in years–though on the downside, this has led to atrophied writer muscles. This whole ramble has the makings of a look back in time at apple pie, pickup trucks, and small town parades and there’s a bittersweet aftertaste.
Facebook is a Space Odyssey and I’m still an old black and white film, but I suppose it’s time to grow up and face the digital music.