I’m Afraid of Facebook
I’ll admit it. I’m afraid of Facebook.
Consider the facts:
- I’m blogging, sort of.
- I just texted someone. I’m hoping it was my son.
- I ended my teaching career with several highly popular online courses.
Isn’t all that testimony enough to my willingness to wade into the murky cyber-waters that didn’t even exist when my brain was young and best able to absorb all this change-in-a-nanosecond technology.
Heck, nanoseconds didn’t exist when I was in college. So give a dizzy blonde a little credit for at least being here.
But you won’t find me on Facebook.
I’ve worked hard to simplify my life.
Facebook seems like one slick way to complicate things faster than you can “ping” or “poke” or do whatever you do to others whose faces might not be theirs and whose lives may be only as real as the ether through which they share it with you.
Shizzle sticks, I have a hard enough time figuring out if people standing right in front of me are genuine.
Plus, I don’t want to be poked; I like to be hugged.
Those occasional “friend” requests via email put me in a tail-spin. I’m immediately transported to my hyper-sensitive teenager days when friends defined me. If I don’t accept the “friend request,” will the person think I’m a snob? I’m not a snob! I have to send them a long email and explain that if I accept the request, I’ll have to get a Facebook account, which to me is tantamount to entering a maze…blindfolded.
I can just imagine the sleepless nights I’d be in for if I became one of the 500,000,000+ active users. Solitaire and teaching my dog tricks are too important for me to get caught up in being a Facebook addict. No, my insomnia would be caused by my angst if someone rejected my friend request. Why aren’t they responding? Are they mad at me? What can I do to make they like me? Should I send another request? OMG, have they blocked me? I just don’t need all that Facebook drama in my life. I have enough Face-person/dog drama to keep me awake if I choose to worry about any of it.
There are many advantages to being on Facebook. You can find people, even if they don’t want to be found. You can avoid email and telephones–only using your expensive droids as mini-computers and cameras (but I’m told they can act as telephones, too). While your public speaking skills may atrophy, your manual dexterity with any sized keyboard is legendary. You can collect “friends” and feel really good about the fact that you know more strangers than your siblings, partner, or co-workers.
I’m just kidding. Social networking used to mean going to a physical place and actually talking with people–inefficient and cumbersome by today’s standards. Now it means something every different. For 500,000,000+ people, it seems to work. For me, not so much.
But that’s alright. I’d understand if you were afraid of public speaking and avoided it…