I’ve always been somewhat of a non-conformist. As a high school kid, I styled my hair spiky, adorned myself with my father’s old suit vests and wore my jeans frayed at the bottom, so they fell just slightly above my ankles. I prided myself in looking unusual and acting dissimilar to the other kids in the playground. As a college-aged kid, I went to art school. As an adult, I am considering home schooling my daughter. Yet, here I am, swimming amongst the Hoi polloi.
Truth is, I can’t remember the exact moment I joined the masses. So it is with addictions I guess. But I do know this… like a dutiful addict, I recruited more junkies. Geoff joined at the same time as me. Mom was a member soon thereafter. Within a year, I had convinced my dad to sign up. More friends and family members followed.
At first, it was divine. I delighted in the ability to carefully select and upload flattering Profile Pictures of myself. That worked brilliantly… until the Tagging began. Still, I reconnected with long-distance family members whom I had not spoken with for years. Old schoolmates found me. An ex-boyfriend messaged me to apologize for the distasteful way he had dumped me 20 years ago. It wasn’t long before I began sharing the minutiae of my daily existence.
I didn’t want to. But I did it anyway.
Looking back, the posts on my Wall read more like cries for help… Want coffee. In desperate need of sunshine. Craving a cheese croissant. In next to no time, I began using meaningful quotes from other people as my Status Updates. I moved to Farmville. I didn’t realize how sick I was. I was in too deep.
Let me be candid here. Facebook is wearing me out. It’s just too much work
This crap is permeating my dreams.