You know, I used to be fairly up to date on computer and communication technology. Sure, I didn’t get a cell phone until everyone and their dog had one, but I regularly replaced my computer so we (ex-hubby and I) could play the latest games and we regularly played Diablo when it was THE innovative online game to play and I had a PDA when they first came out and I had a micro-computer way back before laptops became popular and crowded the micros out and thus I crack up whenever I hear that micro-computers are coming back.
But the PDA drove me crazy with its tiny pen and tiny keyboard and I refused to buy a portable, fold-out keyboard for it because HELLO — micro-computer/laptop! And my cell phone is not top of the line and can’t even take photos because I also own a digital camera and I don’t have an X-box or a Wii and I no longer play multi-player games online because 1) they aren’t free and 2) you have to play with everyone* and I refuse to text-message on my phone because IT’S A PHONE AND YOU CAN DAMN WELL CALL ME and while I have, of course, a blog, I refuse to Twitter because I DO NOT need to know what someone else is doing/thinking/eating/reading/farting every damn minute and I cannot image anyone else wants to know the same stuff about me.
And despite the above grumpiness, I really am a lovely person *in person*. Unless I have a migraine. Or I’m in the middle of a really good book. Or you’ve just woken me up out of a sound sleep. But otherwise, lovely. Really.
But you’ll understand why I felt very grudging today when I finally caved and opened a Facebook account. I did it because many of my friends are on Facebook and they regularly invite me to “friend” them (which reeks to me of middle school and who the hell enjoyed that?) and they post pictures and invite me to view them, and I really wanted to see Jennifer’s new tattoo.
So I joined. I see on a knitting board that I frequent many folks asking questions about Facebook that also reek of middle school — so-and-so wants to friend me and I don’t want to friend them, or I posted while drunk and my boss who’s also on Facebook saw it, or how do I unfriend someone because I can’t stand them but I don’t want to actually let them know the extent of my can’t-stand-you-ness.
So my question is, is it possible to be on Facebook without the drama? Can I ignore friend requests from people I haven’t spoken to in 20 years without feeling like a bitch? Am I too far down the road that leads to shaking my fist at passing teenagers to even be on Facebook? Does Facebook have any redeeming qualities (other than Jennifer’s tattoo, which I *still* can’t manage to see) that I should know about? Convert me, folks, or justify my grumpiness. The comments are yours.
*As a Quaker, I really do believe that there is “that of God” in every person and we all have worth. But that doesn’t mean I want to spend my evenings with a few hundred thousand strangers.