Kicking and Screaming

I finally broke down and created a Facebook account.  I’ve been fiercely holding out for years, but I finally found myself in a professional situation that required one.  Why would I resist for so long from engaging in an activity that provides me with real-time updates on when a distant relative leaves the gym?  Exactly.

I’ve been perusing my wall, which might also be accurately referred to as an unsorted pile of single stream recycling, and here are some examples of what I’m seeing:

  • Someone just worked out.  Again.  Great for you.  I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow you made my clothes feel even tighter.
  • Someone I haven’t talked to since high school reached out to say “What’s up?  What have you been up to since high school?”.  Honestly, if you weren’t there for the last quarter of a century, I don’t have the energy to type it.  At this point, you’ll  just have to wait for the recap on America’s Most Wanted.
  • An inside joke that one person gets yet is transmitted to thousands of people.  I’m not in IT, but if your friend has Facebook, I’m pretty sure you can just email them directly.
  • Oh look, a friend just had twins.  Mazel Tov.  But as a parent of triplets, what you told me is that you shy away from a real challenge.
  • Multiple postings on what was eaten at various meals.  I also get a shockingly high number of these via Twitter.  I’m guessing this is not what Al Gore had in mind when he created the internet.
  • All kinds of recent photos taken many, many miles from the person’s house.  I hope you have a burglar alarm and good homeowner’s insurance.

Now, Facebook is not without value to me.  I do like seeing current photos of friends and family, I’ve been known to ‘like’ Proctor & Gamble’s page for a free soap coupon, and I can tell when a friend has passed away when their workout updates have ceased.  I also find nuggets of wisdom that enrich my life.  For example, just today a friend aptly noted that whomever scheduled a Presidential debate on the last day of the baseball season is not fit to lead our country.

I’m sure once I learn to navigate Facebook more intelligently, I’ll derive more utility from it.  And, I admit I probably sound like a crotchety, (42 year) old man.  So friends, please keep posting your lunch plans, your calories burned, and the up-to-the-minute alerts on the traffic jam you are in.  Just give me time, and I’ll figure it out.