Way back in the early 2009s, I was a Facebook scrooge. I made fun of my husband when he’d type something into the old “What are you doing right now?” field. I’d create an account, panic, then shut it down. All those off-center profile pictures. The whole thing scared the ba-jigsaw puzzle out of me.
Then I attended my 25th high school reunion and forgot to bring my camera. Yo! It was my TWENTY FIFTH high school reunion. People start to forget things. Anyhow, I desperately wanted to see pictures from the weekend, so I signed up for Facebook. Again.
The first reunion pictures I saw were of me in my brand new, very nice APPARENTLY SEE THROUGH shirt, as my satin bra was shining through it in every flash shot. This bummed me out, but I was not going let it scare me away this time. Also, no one but me cared about those pictures. I’m not the center of the universe 24-7-11, you know.
At that point I began logging into Facebook daily and wondering when the social part of the Social Network would kick in. Read: I wasn’t getting any attention. Then I realized that no one was going to just spontaneously think of me. I had to put myself out there. It was time to post.
Posting on Facebook for the first time is kinda like going to a new school and sitting down at the lunch room table, listening to everyone else talk and then finally saying something out loud. You just hope everyone’s drunk enough to think what you said was funny or interesting.
The good news is that people on Facebook are (pretty much) sober and just plain thrilled when you lose your posting virginity. They comment a lot and make make you feel brave enough to post again. And again. Until you are posting once a day. And then multiple times a day. To the point that you become the person your husband makes fun of for being on Facebook. This is called Karma. Or–synonymously–Me Being a Douchebag.
Now I have become The Facebook Defender. If someone says that Facebook spells the end of real communication, I point out that “talking” on Facebook is just that. There is a back and forth. It’s not like Twitter. That thing is whack.
And a Facebook conversation can happen between people you don’t know that well and in some cases have never even met. But here we all are, getting to know one another. Very quickly. It’s kind of like living with each other in a dorm, but with less running around in just our underwear. (Note to males: This never actually happens in girls’ dorms.)
I know there will always be people who choose not to be part of my personal Facebook conversation and who ignore my posts or hide me. For them I have just one question: When is our next family reunion?
This blog is dedicated to the people I made fun of or who listened to me draw all sorts of lines in the sand (if they could hear line drawing), but have never once called me out about that guy.
Moreover, this blog is dedicated to those referenced above who are not thinking ,”Oh, gee. What I’ve always wanted. A dedication in italics at the bottom of a blog that doesn’t even have pictures.”
This is dedicated to people who like pictures: