My finger hovers over the mouse. Or the touchpad. Irrelevant. The device I am using is somewhat innocuous, but the situation is the same. My finger is hovering over some device that has the ability to click, and it is what I am hesitating to click on that carries all the weight. My finger itself does not weigh all that much, in fact gravity has a relatively minimal effect on my finger, hence my ability to hover it over the clickable device, but all this information is ultimately irrelevant because my finger is hovering over a clickable device waiting to click (or not to click) on a phrase that reads "deactivate". I chicken out. This is all because of a conversation I had with a friend of mine who I will refer to as "David" for the duration of this post to protect his anonymity. For anonymity is a ultimately the beauty that he embraces where I cannot. Well done David, today's post is about you.
David does not have a Facebook. *GHASP* I know, right? No Facebook. All the questions that start running through my head became a scrolling diatribe of some of the most shallow thoughts I've ever had. All of a sudden my shock takes an awkward journey to horror then confusion, but ultimately settling on envy. David beat the system. He is not cool or un-cool, he is a-cool. He transcended what I sadly believe is a social requirement, and yet he is one of the most emotionally in-tune and aware people I know. All without having to glance at Facebook. He is a pro at holding a conversation. He makes me believe everything I'm saying is the most important thing in the world. He listens, he asks questions, and he genuinely cares. Surely someone can have this pure character element even with a Facebook, but I don't think that's necessarily true. He explained it very aptly.
"I used to have a Facebook," he confessed, "but I deactivated it for the summer and found myself not missing it when summer ended." Here he is, two months later, Facebook-less and do I ever envy him. He went on to describe how it was just wasting his time, and he wasn't really getting much out of it given the time he was putting into it. I think his next point, however, is what really sticks with me. It is why I really envy him. He claims he knew too much. I asked him to explain. He knew too much about people without ever having to get to know them. He is right.
The more I thought about it, the scary that thought became. I don't have to get to know people because it is easy enough for me to look up their likes/dislikes/interests/vacations/family/job on their Facebook page. If I ever have real life conversations with people, rather than spend the time asking them questions and getting to know them, there is an apprehension that I might volunteer information that I already know but shouldn't. It's a weird feeling. And yes, this is my confession that I "creep" on Facebook, but I don't do it to any sort of excess. I also can admit it because I can almost guarantee that everyone does it, so get off your moral high horse. The reason we "creep", however is because we secretly are fascinated with getting to know people, but we just found a safer way to do it.
David's got some big balls. He wants to get to know people, but he knows how to do it by the book. the real book. He embodies the dream of The Day the Board Games Died. I'm not going to stand on a pulpit and telling the world to start shutting down their Facebook. It won't happen. But I hope one day I get the cajones to do what David did. I want to let my finger click on "Deactivate". I want to walk away. I lie and say that I can whenever, but I can't. Facebook, it's a hell of a drug. It's the kind of drug that gives me too much access to the world, and somehow I'm left with so little to discover. Let's talk for real. I want to know everything there is to know about you, but I just want you to tell me. I want to listen. Come on gravity, I need you now more than ever.
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