And I swore I wouldn't write about Facebook.
Because I don't have one and enough people have said how awful and artificial it is, and I don't want to feel redundant.
But boy, did I give myself a scare tonight.
So I was on Facebook. What? Why? You hypocrite! I know, I know. But I needed a few pictures and, well, I knew just where to find them. I asked nicely and not only did someone with a Facebook page get me the pictures, they gave me their e-mail and password so that I could log on to get those pictures when it was conveinient for me. Whoa. And I wanted the pictures for totally okay reasons too, just print them out, show off my work, and hopefully impress the hell out of people.
Anyway. I'm on Facebook for the second time in my life, and the first time alone. (The other time a friend of mind was showing me pictures of her and her friends being wasted goofballs.) My mouse can click any face I want it to. I can open the door to anyone's life. If only my computer weren't so old, so slow. I want others' souls and I want them now!
It really is addictive. You just keep clicking and seeing more and more faces you recognize from the hallways or from years passed and click some more and get trapped in this vicious cycle and before you know it the 10-minute task of getting a few simple, relatively easily located pictures, has become a 60-minute endeavor, an engrossing journey to the lives of others. I get why people do it. I really do. I tease them and think of myself as just a little better than them (though I know I'm not, I know that too), but I get it. And that getting it, that enjoyment of looking at the beautiful, funny, frozen-in-time faces of people I know (who are even more beautiful and funny in reality), is what scares me. I'm no better than anyone, I seldom think I am (well, sometimes, but only at quantifiable things like knitting tight, proper stitches or ice skating). Tonight I experienced just how tempting Facebooks are and I promptly had to remind myself rether severely why they are a waste of time and life. ...says the girl ferverishly typing away at a blog no one reads, because no one knows it exists, a blog that invariably chronicles life and thoughts, just like a Facebook page. Like I said, I'm a filthy hypocrite sometimes.
All that said, the internet is a scary place, vast and beautiful and dangerous. A place where the pleasure in the instantaneous shatters morals and seduces weary lovers of pen and ink.
And I really must get rid of that nice boy's log in info. I never want a repeat of tonight.
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