This bit of fluffery is an out-and-out re-post from August of last year. I changed nothing. I should feel bad about that, having violated my own rule re: writing every day, but the truth is that I'm fully booked -- and writing things aside from the blog! -- until Monday. Hope you enjoy it anyway.
Like all right-thinking citizens of the mostly-modern world, I’m on Facebook.
I got tired of people saying things like “didn’t you get the update?” or “oh, we knew about their new dog on Tuesday, when they got him. That’s old news”.
So I bought in.
And out they came, every person I’d ever met. Facebook had all kinds of friend suggestions for me, from my junior-high boyfriends to high-school science partners to people I had suspected were dead and/or imprisoned, all with pictures and links and frighteningly angry opinions on everything ranging from how to parent your children to fast food.
Here I thought ol’ FB would be more like a party. You know, we’d chat, share some photos, buy each other a couple of virtual drinks and talk about that screenplay we were pretty sure we could write if we had more time.
But like every party, I seem to have wandered into the part of the kitchen cordoned off for the politically angry, the porch dedicated to several weeping individuals who want to know WHY, WHY?, the back steps where a group is (virtually) hugging fervently and passing out (virtual) promises.
I am not among the most readily in touch with my (virtual) emotions and tend to look at these things askance.
And for this – and for using the word “askance” – I will pay.
I offer you this unseemly exchange from a couple weeks back as proof.
Brent - a person I knew a good 15 years ago and now seems prone to sending warm and loving regards to all, sparkling angels, and What Kind Of Elf Would You Be quizzes - posts on his wall: Until you have loved an animal, a part of your soul remains undeveloped.
Pearl - a callus individual I sometimes claim not to know and will refer to here in the third person - responded: And once you have loved an animal and been caught, you have a police record.
I worried about my cynical post immediately, only to have a number of comments of the “LOL” variety follow in quick succession.
Despite the (virtual) validation, I can’t help but wonder: Perhaps FB is a party, just one I don’t understand.
Could I be the turd in the FB punchbowl?
About preferred pronouns
2 hours ago