I was *briefly* addicted to Facebook…

I sort of gave up on social networking sites after I invested heavily in Friendster way back when and it suddenly became uncouth.

I assumed MySpace and Facebook would eventually go the same way and it was therefore a waste of time.

However, virtually all of my new classmates are on Facebook and there are relevant postings and the like…so I had to finally give in and join Facebook myself. And, oh, what a world I discovered! I’ve moved around a bit (CA, MS, GA, SC, WI, England, AK and NY) and so what fun it was to go back and find long lost friends! (Even if it was only to declare ourselves “friends” on the profile page…) So…for the first 24 hours or so, I found myself obsessively checking back to see if I had any new “friends” or if anyone had “written” on my “wall.”

But, alas, all good things must come to an end, right?

A little backstory…I’ll try to prevent this from getting *too* Dear Diary because 1) I have no idea who is actually reading this; and 2) it is, after all, supposed to be a “food blog.”

But…I was a little sad when August 31 came and went because, as you may recall, a psychic in Malibu told me three years ago that I would meet my soul mate by now. (I *suppose* it’s possible I have already met said soul mate and just don’t realize it yet…I guess I was just hoping for a little more of a butterflies-in-my-stomach, at-first-sight-of-‘im-I-knew-he-was-the-one kind of a feeling. [Is that too much to ask??]).

I have also fallen WAY behind in e-mails since starting school because I’m not in front of a computer all day long…and so a couple of weekends ago, I decided to catch up on my correspondence and I e-mailed virtually everyone I know – including people I haven’t talked to in AGES…which includes the Englishman I almost married. And, you know, I understand that people are busy in their own lives and don’t all necessarily jump for joy immediately upon seeing my name in their inbox…and that there are, perhaps, more important things to do than write me back immediately. However…by now I’ve heard from pretty much everyone…except the Englishman. And I know it’s silly of me to want him to be my friend or to expect that’s something he’s willing to do given the thousands of miles between us and the history which by now is virtually ancient. But, I don’t know…in a perfect world, I would like to think we *could* be friends and could still talk every once in a while…and, you know, could still be part of each other’s lives…albeit remotely. I almost married the guy, for Pete’s sake. He’ll always be important to me.

Then I found him on Facebook. I asked him to be my friend. He agreed. And then I saw his profile. He’s in a relationship. She, too, has a Facebook profile. And, you know, it just seems kind of mean of Facebook to make it so easy for me to see her. So…my obsession with Facebook sorta ended. I’m happy for him…I really am. (But why didn’t he write me back??)

And then for the first time I realized that maybe when I decided not to get married, I unconsciously made a decision to put my career first and to therefore never have any meaningful interpersonal relationships. (If this was a movie in the 80s, I’d wear power suits with shoulder pads and my hair pulled back tightly in a bun and I’d make the nice girls with families stay late because all I have waiting for me at home is an obese cat and a half-empty bottle of chardonnay.)

Then I decided that I have to write a book. I have about a million stories floating around in my head…and I’ve certainly declared it to the world before, but never, you know, on the world wide web. Perhaps this’ll be the impetus I need to finally actually write about meeting Javy at Target…or the failed leather tanner’s mother’s wedding…or dressing up as a fairy at Super K-Mart for my “job” at the radio station in Alaska…or when the Italian guy left me on a street corner on my 24th birthday so he could go get his jollies with a curly-haired girl from Florida…or my cousin’s bowling alley wedding…or the pie contest in Orlando…or the shot with the dead toe in it…

Perhaps it’s my overinflated sense of self-importance, but I feel like maybe things happen to me that just don’t happen to other people…and I really *do* feel like I have a book in me…even if it is just a collection of short stories.

…because if I’m going to put my career first, I might as well have an amazing one, right?


Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s