Why is it important I know somebody I happened to go to school with fifteen years ago, watched Cool Runnings in his underpants last night? Or some random dude who bought me a beer in a bar because we wore a similar colour shirt, is looking forward to his new job in construction? Why do I care to see wedding photos of a woman I never really spoke to, even when I knew her? Or view holiday snaps of the barista who - outside the polite confining position of her work, may struggle to string a sentence together in my company? On the flip-side, I cannot imagine too many people care less about me and my girlfriend's jaunts to the Olympic Games, my obsession with bumming jokes, and quaint insistence on posting these blogs when - in all honesty, only about 5% actually read them (if more are reading it, they sure aint saying it.)
Unless you are a technophobic hermit, have spent the last ten years in prison, or are so morbidly obese your fat legs cannot hop off the bed, you will be aware I refer to an average day on social networking kingpin, Facebook. I am addicted to the site, and, I am beginning to wonder why? Every day I log-in, at least ten times - even though it makes little difference in any capacity; whoever goes to bed thinking "That log-in to Facebook, was the highlight of my evening!" Once aboard the virtual prison cell, I tend to carefully think of an update - on my carefully constructed profile, to make me appear a mixture of clever, cool, self-deprecating, witty, philosophical, or any form of positive characteristic; a passive act of insecure qualification on my part. A half-true update such as "Pondering Camus", sounds a lot more mysterious than "Had a pleasurable wank" - which is sometimes true. The whole process seems based around creating an idea I am so much more than my reality suggests - even though, in actual reality, I am pretty likeable, socially adjusted guy... well, most of the time.
Those who know me on the site, do not need to read my info to figure me out. And those who don't know me, probably don't care anyway; why would they? The idea of a mutual associate works both ways. Yet still I remain addicted. And it is for this reason I am currently taking a holiday from the inter-communicational powerhouse; my aim of zero log-ins until October 2nd - 3 weeks in total, seems like a logical step - not too long to be missed, yet short enough to understand how much power the site has over people like me. The idea is part curiosity, part attempt to re-engage in the real world outside my front door, as I try to remind myself of the first 26 years of life - where it seemed people actually spoke to one another, and a 'friend' was an actual 'friend'; not some dude you once took a piss next to on holiday in Morocco, or whatever. But perhaps this is just my own distorted view of things - time shall tell; I just hope it is positive.
In a perfect reality I would confine my Facebook account to the locker of Old Davy Jones, but I can't. For there are a good number of old friends, acquaintances, family members, and loved ones, whose lives I am interested in on a site so easily accessible; more so pictures of themselves, their families, and all their travels, in comparison to personal updates. In truth, if I were to keep only those i consider a true 'friend' on the site, my list of 108 buds would likely cut itself in half - and even then, true genuine friends can only ever be counted on one hand.
So see you for a while Facebook. I doubt too many people will miss me for a few weeks, and some are likely to find solace from being forced to view my stupid updates and odd photos. I will undoubtedly miss those I regularly communicate with - but they understand the nature of life through my eyes. My blogs will find their way to my wall, through a very much trusted, old friend - and I shall continue to update how this freedom is affecting my real life. But after logging in every day to the site for at least three years solid, I need a break from Facebook and the whole internet thing for a little. My relationship with the web is very much love/hate; the 2% of it I love is fantastic, the other 98% or so, just seems like a giant toilet bowl nobody has bothered to flush yet. Truth is, if I wasn't a writer, I would probably hardly ever use it.
Here is to a month without message alerts, friend requests, notification updates, bejewelled invites, and that stupid fucking how many squares quiz! Until the next time...
Lee.
Unless you are a technophobic hermit, have spent the last ten years in prison, or are so morbidly obese your fat legs cannot hop off the bed, you will be aware I refer to an average day on social networking kingpin, Facebook. I am addicted to the site, and, I am beginning to wonder why? Every day I log-in, at least ten times - even though it makes little difference in any capacity; whoever goes to bed thinking "That log-in to Facebook, was the highlight of my evening!" Once aboard the virtual prison cell, I tend to carefully think of an update - on my carefully constructed profile, to make me appear a mixture of clever, cool, self-deprecating, witty, philosophical, or any form of positive characteristic; a passive act of insecure qualification on my part. A half-true update such as "Pondering Camus", sounds a lot more mysterious than "Had a pleasurable wank" - which is sometimes true. The whole process seems based around creating an idea I am so much more than my reality suggests - even though, in actual reality, I am pretty likeable, socially adjusted guy... well, most of the time.
Those who know me on the site, do not need to read my info to figure me out. And those who don't know me, probably don't care anyway; why would they? The idea of a mutual associate works both ways. Yet still I remain addicted. And it is for this reason I am currently taking a holiday from the inter-communicational powerhouse; my aim of zero log-ins until October 2nd - 3 weeks in total, seems like a logical step - not too long to be missed, yet short enough to understand how much power the site has over people like me. The idea is part curiosity, part attempt to re-engage in the real world outside my front door, as I try to remind myself of the first 26 years of life - where it seemed people actually spoke to one another, and a 'friend' was an actual 'friend'; not some dude you once took a piss next to on holiday in Morocco, or whatever. But perhaps this is just my own distorted view of things - time shall tell; I just hope it is positive.
In a perfect reality I would confine my Facebook account to the locker of Old Davy Jones, but I can't. For there are a good number of old friends, acquaintances, family members, and loved ones, whose lives I am interested in on a site so easily accessible; more so pictures of themselves, their families, and all their travels, in comparison to personal updates. In truth, if I were to keep only those i consider a true 'friend' on the site, my list of 108 buds would likely cut itself in half - and even then, true genuine friends can only ever be counted on one hand.
So see you for a while Facebook. I doubt too many people will miss me for a few weeks, and some are likely to find solace from being forced to view my stupid updates and odd photos. I will undoubtedly miss those I regularly communicate with - but they understand the nature of life through my eyes. My blogs will find their way to my wall, through a very much trusted, old friend - and I shall continue to update how this freedom is affecting my real life. But after logging in every day to the site for at least three years solid, I need a break from Facebook and the whole internet thing for a little. My relationship with the web is very much love/hate; the 2% of it I love is fantastic, the other 98% or so, just seems like a giant toilet bowl nobody has bothered to flush yet. Truth is, if I wasn't a writer, I would probably hardly ever use it.
Here is to a month without message alerts, friend requests, notification updates, bejewelled invites, and that stupid fucking how many squares quiz! Until the next time...
Lee.
