Farcebook
I wrote a pretty distressing entry out of desperation the other day; I'm sorry if you had the misfortune of reading it. I've been battling a really dark depression, (what else is new) and needed an outlet that didn't rhyme with "Acehook." My mind spins wildly all on its own, like a maddening carousel, but the good book magnifies that insanity tenfold. There's something about that damn news feed that plays cruel tricks on my head. And yet, I find myself unable to resist logging in at all hours of the day, just to "check" on what everyone is having for dinner. Is it really any wonder that I'm burnt out? I can hardly focus on myself most days, never-mind the overload of information pouring out of 300+ people.
Despite how it sounds, I'm not trying to bash facebook. It has certainly helped me maintain contact with stalk individuals who would have likely slipped into the void of time otherwise. My relationship with the site however is extremely unhealthy, not to mention unnatural. I'm the kind of person who relies on physical cues to gauge a person's feelings - elements that are permanently absent, save for still images which (usually) depict happier times.
I have tried to deactivate my account, but like so many others, I've always been lured back in, and for good reason. When everyone you know and love are hooked on this singular form of communication, deactivation is like a sort of self exile. Sure, you might announce your departure and collect as many phone numbers or emails as you can, but let's be honest, nobody will contact you.
Dusting off this old journal proved to be a good call though. It's been so long since I've cataloged my thoughts, I'd forgotten how salubrious the process can be. Even if it only produces a giant despairing post, I don't think I'll receive any grief for it here. In fact I think it'll be beneficial to air my thoughts without any regard for who likes it or not. Anything to get me off that addictive blue banner.
Despite how it sounds, I'm not trying to bash facebook. It has certainly helped me maintain contact with stalk individuals who would have likely slipped into the void of time otherwise. My relationship with the site however is extremely unhealthy, not to mention unnatural. I'm the kind of person who relies on physical cues to gauge a person's feelings - elements that are permanently absent, save for still images which (usually) depict happier times.
I have tried to deactivate my account, but like so many others, I've always been lured back in, and for good reason. When everyone you know and love are hooked on this singular form of communication, deactivation is like a sort of self exile. Sure, you might announce your departure and collect as many phone numbers or emails as you can, but let's be honest, nobody will contact you.
Dusting off this old journal proved to be a good call though. It's been so long since I've cataloged my thoughts, I'd forgotten how salubrious the process can be. Even if it only produces a giant despairing post, I don't think I'll receive any grief for it here. In fact I think it'll be beneficial to air my thoughts without any regard for who likes it or not. Anything to get me off that addictive blue banner.