I’ve been pestered endlessly to join Myfacespacebook, the premier social networking website in all the world. I will admit, it has provided me the ability to reconnect with some, but mostly, NO. I can also appreciate the implications it has for helping people stay in touch with others over great distances, but mostly, NO.
Now I’m obligated to respond to a friend of a friend. Now I have a need to update a profile, a picture, another friend of a friend, a song, and hell, I’m going to list every book I’ve read and movie I’ve seen and tell you my favorite TV show is the one with the talking cartoon dog.
Friendster-facebook-myspace networks are the new cyber tethers and electronic leashes that cell phones used to be. Remember when cell phones were those giant bricks only rich folks had? How hilarious would it be to stand in line at the store yakking on one of those today? I’m going to get a little Nokia slapped in one of those big suckers and then yell into it just to aggravate those around me. Holy digressions!
Back to dogging facebook. I can hardly stomach these sites and I’ll tell my imaginary audience why: They’re completely loaded with inane, little inside jokes and gossip about people I don’t know or care about. What’s worse is that people from your past can find you and request that you reply to their innocuous appearance. If you ever get stuck on one of those sights, you can spend hours looking at people’s pictures and reading their likes and dislikes, and all the while it’s just the same old stuff over and over again.
There I was, looking around like an idiot, when I was caught. They found me while remembering some random moment or they’re part of a book group that I used to frequent when I volunteered at the crisis center. Are you serious? That’s 15 years ago and I can’t remember what I did last week, let alone some long ago court order. Though now I’ll feel like a jerk if I don’t say hello. Why is that?
You know me from a person who was roommates with a friend of mine in 1999? You don’t say. Now we’re friends? Super.
What do I say to that? How do I reply to an email like that? People wanting to catch up, wanting to trade stories, people so horridly misinformed that they think I would give half a pinch of crap about me making more friends. I’ve got less friends than fingers, and that’s the way I like it. Don’t trust them shifty toes.
Today’s technology is so advanced (think 1950’s science fiction) that you can be found by your past faster than you can say “are you sure this is free and no one will find out?”
That’s why I like the strict blog. It’s my itty bitty world in the palm of my sweaty hand, my anonymous, eponymous scrawling on the back of the barn wall where just a few people go and hang out. Mostly smokers and vagrants, but there’s a few upstanding folks in there. It’s only the people I like and, of course, the random visitors whom I know NOTHING ABOUT just walking by seeing all of us smoking and drinking, hating and loving. If they feel like sticking around, by all means, if not, I shall lose no sleep. There is such a beauty in that.
Unlike Myface, where I’m expected to keep up with a silly, petty infantile bulletin board that reminds me that you guzzled blue drinks at the bar last night or your dog just had puppies or your kids just did something cute, or you just painted the kitchen or your mother-in-law has been hitting on you…Ok, the last one would be slightly interesting but the rest of it, oh my god, if I was head of NASA I would shoot you all out into space so you could share your vacuous giblets of crap in the deepest darkness of the universe. Where they belong. OMG!