I signed up with facebook… many years ago. When it first came out. Most members of my family live really, really far away and it was a good way to keep in touch without much effort.
But then everyone joined facebook. It got so that I felt obliged to accept friend requests from people I hardly knew, and then I was bombarded by information I didn’t care about.
About three years ago, I signed off. Phew, what a relief. But then somebody in one of my classes suggested we start an online group, and it is a good idea–there are some crazy assignments and lots of times I wish I could just throw a group question out there.
So I tried to sign in this morning. I no longer even have the email account I signed up with, so I can’t request a new password, but after about twenty attempts I finally hit on the right one.
I have friend requests piled up from half of the living breathing universe. Suddenly I was again stressed about what they must think of me, that I never accepted their requests. And needing to sign on and keep up with everyone and and and….
I clicked the x in the corner in a panic before it could suck me into its death spiral.
I’m pondering now: do I have what it takes to be a facebooker? Can I ruthlessly delete all the people I don’t really care profoundly about and just use it for the essential things I originally signed up for? It got to be the same way with my blogroll, for a while: I felt guilty that I wasn’t commenting on every post every person made. When Vox went belly up, I almost quit blogging all together.
And then I decided that I blog for me, primarily. This is my mental maytag, my journal that I cannot misplace. Of course I love it when somebody else enjoys it, and comments. I like reading other people’s blogs, too. But a lot of times that’s on my ‘Pod, and I can’t easily comment. This is the season of my life, right now. It’s a bit nuts. Most people understand that, I guess.
To facebook or not to facebook, that is the question… On my own terms.