Seriously? It’s been 2 days, and I’m freakin’ dying. Another tough day and all I want to do is check FB, get some boosts and funny and ‘likes.’ Look at avatars of my friends faces.
So if I’m such a social butterfly why do I dread leaving the house? Why do I spend so much time on the internet? I’ve been thinking recently about when I first read William Gibson’s “Neuromancer,” around age 14 – 1990 or so. My mental picture back then of people jacking in to cyberspace to get the drug, the drug of escape, of real/imagined power, of a new, better, cleaner identity. And how similar it is to what I do now with facebook. I’ve got to get the juice, fuck this real world, I have 2 red bubbles over my inbox that mean someone cares. Or its a bot.
Now that I’m writing I already feel better. 20 minutes ago I would have signed back up except for its just WAY TOO SOON I couldn’t live with how silly that would look, ha. This is good for me. For starters, I’m writing long form again.
What I would tell facebook right now:
I would upload this photo of me and some work buddies at lunch for Monica’s birthday. And tag everyone and add Monica as a FB friend and feel so, so satisfied with myself. Until some old friend who took a different life path posts pics of their sunny vacation, then I’ll curse my wretched life.
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