Morticia, my pet in Pettville - a Facebook pasttime
Let us begin at the beginning. Facebook was
forbidden on the computer, was blocked in the company where I worked. There were
too many having a look in between, posting and liking. Too much valuable
working time was lost.
I only really fell into the Facebook world when I was retired. It seemed to be a compensation for my working life. I played games until one fine day I realised there was a real world out there somewhere. Planning a fictitious farm or restaurant was not the essence of life and begging other members for little gifts to help me to complete a quest was not exactly worthy of a Nobel prize. There was housework to do, not just to be fitted in between. I had other hobbies, photography and writing which were slowly being neglected for the sake of a brainless game.
I have belonged to this club of lost souls for about five years. I still belong. No “belong” is the wrong word, Facebook belongs to me. I enter with a name and password. I have gone through a metamorphosis in this world of likes and shares. I used to write things, post photos, write a status with no real meaning. Now I have become an observer, lurking in the shadows of a web site that automatically opens on a tab every day. I really do not need it, so why is it always open on a separate tab? I suppose because it is there.
Something happened a couple of weeks ago which made me think. My other half is not really a Facebook person; forums and social sites are not his sort of thing. He has other hobbies and where my computer is full of photos and blogs, his is full of music. However, he did risk a step into the world of Facebook as being an amateur jazz musician; he could maintain contact with other musicians and jazz lovers. I would call him a reluctant Facebooker. One day he found enough is enough. He asked himself the question “do I really need this rubbish?” His answer was “No” and he left Facebook. This gave me a “poke” to use a Facebook word. I followed his way of departure. A lengthy process, but he did it. The last information he got from Facebook was that he had two weeks last respite before he was eternally banned. To cut a long story short, he made use of the two weeks and rejoined on the last day of his exile. His colleagues convinced him that he would be missed and so he is back.
This got me thinking. Shall I leave? Facebook was becoming a slight nuisance. The daily confessions from the general public, their daily diaries of what they were doing; the declarations of love and respect for this, that and the other were frankly said “getting on my nerves”. Am I such a selfish person that I do not declare my eternal respect for a departed parent or family member for all to see. No, making private public is not my thing. I could understand my husband completely. I am still there and have not left. The only reason being that I have a couple of far flung relations in other countries, some ex workmates and friends. I also treasure the fact that I can cross post my WordPress blogs.
I have about 700 contacts in Facebook that I do not know and have never met; a remainder of my gaming days.
I realised I would miss a some groups I belong to. Various authors, musicians and art, as well as a group in the area from where I originate in London. Not to mention that my old school has a thriving site with many names belonging to my school days around 1959-1964.
If Facebook collapsed tomorrow or ceased to exist, I would not cry. I would have a couple of regrets, but my life would continue as normal. It just is not important enough to spend time on mourning its departure.
For those that enjoy this public spectacle of showing off their feelings, thoughts and beliefs, I wish them all the best; if you enjoy it, then why not. It is no longer my idea of enjoyment.
I only really fell into the Facebook world when I was retired. It seemed to be a compensation for my working life. I played games until one fine day I realised there was a real world out there somewhere. Planning a fictitious farm or restaurant was not the essence of life and begging other members for little gifts to help me to complete a quest was not exactly worthy of a Nobel prize. There was housework to do, not just to be fitted in between. I had other hobbies, photography and writing which were slowly being neglected for the sake of a brainless game.
I have belonged to this club of lost souls for about five years. I still belong. No “belong” is the wrong word, Facebook belongs to me. I enter with a name and password. I have gone through a metamorphosis in this world of likes and shares. I used to write things, post photos, write a status with no real meaning. Now I have become an observer, lurking in the shadows of a web site that automatically opens on a tab every day. I really do not need it, so why is it always open on a separate tab? I suppose because it is there.
Something happened a couple of weeks ago which made me think. My other half is not really a Facebook person; forums and social sites are not his sort of thing. He has other hobbies and where my computer is full of photos and blogs, his is full of music. However, he did risk a step into the world of Facebook as being an amateur jazz musician; he could maintain contact with other musicians and jazz lovers. I would call him a reluctant Facebooker. One day he found enough is enough. He asked himself the question “do I really need this rubbish?” His answer was “No” and he left Facebook. This gave me a “poke” to use a Facebook word. I followed his way of departure. A lengthy process, but he did it. The last information he got from Facebook was that he had two weeks last respite before he was eternally banned. To cut a long story short, he made use of the two weeks and rejoined on the last day of his exile. His colleagues convinced him that he would be missed and so he is back.
This got me thinking. Shall I leave? Facebook was becoming a slight nuisance. The daily confessions from the general public, their daily diaries of what they were doing; the declarations of love and respect for this, that and the other were frankly said “getting on my nerves”. Am I such a selfish person that I do not declare my eternal respect for a departed parent or family member for all to see. No, making private public is not my thing. I could understand my husband completely. I am still there and have not left. The only reason being that I have a couple of far flung relations in other countries, some ex workmates and friends. I also treasure the fact that I can cross post my WordPress blogs.
I have about 700 contacts in Facebook that I do not know and have never met; a remainder of my gaming days.
I realised I would miss a some groups I belong to. Various authors, musicians and art, as well as a group in the area from where I originate in London. Not to mention that my old school has a thriving site with many names belonging to my school days around 1959-1964.
If Facebook collapsed tomorrow or ceased to exist, I would not cry. I would have a couple of regrets, but my life would continue as normal. It just is not important enough to spend time on mourning its departure.
For those that enjoy this public spectacle of showing off their feelings, thoughts and beliefs, I wish them all the best; if you enjoy it, then why not. It is no longer my idea of enjoyment.
I have no desire to join Facebook, never have. From everything I've heard of it, it has a few good points and a massive amount of bad ones. That's enough for me to say 'no thanks'. It would take something extraordinary to persuade me to join.
ReplyDeleteI'm late with my Creative Challenge entry, but it's finally up.