|Meet Aunt Marge, via the 'Face |
Thing' on the computer.
After 4 years of ups and downs but mostly ups, I deactivated by Facebook account. I did it quietly, no fan fare, no big announcement of a countdown for my 'friends' to say their last goodbyes. I just... did it. And after 18 minutes of insane hoops and Are you sure? Please enter the totally unrecognizable characters in this field for the tenth time, and Are you sure you're sure because so and so (a montage of my friends' profile pics came streaming across the page, no joke) will miss you... I was more ready than ever to deactivate that shit.
I felt liberated and Special K was like Duh, I did that years ago. My reasons for taking this bold move?
- Despite my best efforts at keeping my account private, I was constantly logged in to 5 different computers in 5 different states. Creepy.
- I felt overexposed - not shocking. I am a social media junkie which is quickly becoming the norm. Like me, more friends than not these days are on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest (which is surprisingly awesome and not too personal), at some point I joined Tumblr but have no idea how to use it, LinkedIn, and I keep forgetting about GoodReads but I'm on that too. Oh, and I'm here in my own Schovillova-verse which I love but neglect most of all. All of them for the most part, serve different purposes. Facebook for me had the heaviest weight so I decided to cut it.
- Again, despite best efforts, I tried to limit how people could find me. I tried to prevent humans that I don't really know that well, don't know at all, or that I don't want to know me at all, from requesting to be my friend because eventually it gets awkward when you ignore a request and then run into said human on a daily bases. In the words of Special K, It's hard to be so popular.
But who am I kidding. All of these excuses were null and void after a late night conversation with my Great Aunt Marge in New Jersey, who I apparently need to call more often. I will just include her part of the conversation below but when you read it, you must read it in your best 80-year-old-New-Jersey-great-aunt-voice.
- Have you talked to your Cousin Jane? Oh, that's right, uhwl you kids are on the 'Face thing' on the compuduh.
- Well, (sigh) at least you keep in touch that way. See the pictures and have your conversaytions through the compuduh. I guess that's uhwlright.
- You kids don't write your letters anymore, I know. But now no one even knows phone numbuhs! But I'm glad you're on the compuduh. I get my news from your cousins about how you arrre and how the Texas family is. (sigh)
- I just don't know what anyone looks like anymore, but at least they have the pictures on the compuduh...
- You of course know that Mary took a turn but fought her way back, more radiation and rehab therapy. I'm glad you can keep track of her on the compuduh, Jane says she talks about it there a lot so everyone can know...
- What? You're not on the compuduh with them anymore? Well, that's too bad. I'm going to miss hearing about you and Kev. How am I going to hear about you and Kev? I pray for you uhwl the time you know...
- Keep Mary in your prayers and keep letting everyone know how you are with phone calls then. Do you need everyone's phone numbuhs and addresses? I' liked that you kids kept in touch on the compuduh....
And like that I was back on the compuduh, on the 'Face thing'.
Well played Aunt Marge, well played.