I’m leaving you, Facebook. It’s not you; it’s me. You’re really fun and I have a great time with you. I always look forward to the next time I’ll see you, but it’s just not going anywhere.
Seriously, I’m out. I want to write a book, and in the time I’ve spent on Facebook just in the past couple years, I could have written one. Recently it occurred to me I was wasting good (well, in my opinion) material on Facebook that could be in a binding, or at a minimum, in my blog. When a song just kept bouncing off my cranial walls, I wrote, “This song has been a cave drawing in my head since ’95. It recently dripped off the grey walls to the top of my mental turntable.” I don’t know. Maybe that wasn’t even Facebook-worthy. It didn’t get any comments or even “Likes.” Hey, I liked it.
Anyway, part of this is an exercise in self-discipline. I’m not even sure I can do it. Surely there will be times I’ll be like an amputee reaching for that Android or iPad app, but they won’t be there. I’m severing them. Friends and loved ones have quit drinking, smoking and heroin. I can quit Facebook.
I’ll miss it. I’ll miss the humor of Mike Yarnall, Megan, Molly and Liz, but I live with Megan, and sometimes work with Molly and Liz. Mike, please keep in touch. I’ll miss the Joyce’s, Work and Play, but I see them both and one never posts anyway. I’ll miss the immediacy of commenting a funny (again, my opinion) one liner on a friends post. I’ll miss seeing Boston grow up. Nat and Rod, please send pictures! I won’t miss dog and cat posts. Or the whining.
So, my Facebook “friends,” if we really are friends, you know how to reach me… Do it.
Oh, one more thing. I’ll never forget Rocky Point is a safe place to visit…
“Things are said one by one
Before you know it’s all gone”
Can we still be friends?
– Todd Rundgren
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