It occurred to me that the screenshot could have undergone much Photoshopping, but since I am intimately unfamiliar with Facebook, I wouldn't know any better. There is no doubt, though, that this sort of thing has happened before.
I have been on LJ pretty much since the beginning, so I'll keep this. I mirror most entries to a blogspot account so my parents, who stress over the fact that I never email them, can keep up with my shenanigans here in Mexico. I have a twitter account, but only because publishers demand that sort of thing (me, in 140 characters or less? Please.).
I'll have to get a Facebook account when I get a book deal. I loathe it. The people I left behind thirty years ago deserve to be left behind, for the most part. The one's I still care to communicate with enjoy giving my email address out to anyone and everyone who asks for it. I never know what to say to them.
"Hey, there, Carl, hope the acne cleared up."
Or maybe, "Hello, Theresa, I used to fantasize about your large breasts!"
I mean, really, what do you say to people you never really knew? And then come the questions about Mexico, and it gets complicated. Some people have the skills to juggle all of it, I don't have the skill nor the patience, I guess. I really hope that they all have swell lives, but I am guessing that there isn't enough money between all of them to buy enough insight to understand why I find this place so appealing. The people I have met online in the past ten years, oddly enough, seem to get it. It encourages me as a human being.
I don't want to go back to what was. I want to do something completely different, and I want to do something else completely different after that. You know?
You can always just not add the people from 30 years ago, or leave access to your profile very limited... or ven limit what certain groups see (à la LJ filtered groups). I have no interest in people in high school knowing all of my contact information (not since the person in charge of our reunion got my number and has called me 20 times to catch up... I didn't like you then, I don't like you now).
This is true, but I keep reading stories about people that get bent out of shape over not being added. It sounds like so much more drama. I know I'll have to get one at some point, but I don't look forward to it.
I have been on LJ pretty much since the beginning, so I'll keep this. I mirror most entries to a blogspot account so my parents, who stress over the fact that I never email them, can keep up with my shenanigans here in Mexico. I have a twitter account, but only because publishers demand that sort of thing (me, in 140 characters or less? Please.).
I'll have to get a Facebook account when I get a book deal. I loathe it. The people I left behind thirty years ago deserve to be left behind, for the most part. The one's I still care to communicate with enjoy giving my email address out to anyone and everyone who asks for it. I never know what to say to them.
"Hey, there, Carl, hope the acne cleared up."
Or maybe, "Hello, Theresa, I used to fantasize about your large breasts!"
I mean, really, what do you say to people you never really knew? And then come the questions about Mexico, and it gets complicated. Some people have the skills to juggle all of it, I don't have the skill nor the patience, I guess. I really hope that they all have swell lives, but I am guessing that there isn't enough money between all of them to buy enough insight to understand why I find this place so appealing. The people I have met online in the past ten years, oddly enough, seem to get it. It encourages me as a human being.
I don't want to go back to what was. I want to do something completely different, and I want to do something else completely different after that. You know?
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