If it’s not on Facebook, Does It Exist?


I guess everyone’s heard by now about the groom interrupting his wedding ceremony to log in to facebook to change his marital status. That led me to the question, “If it’s not on FB, did it happen?”

Being relatively new to Facebook, I’m beginning to wonder if any of my existence counted before I could document everything I ate, said, or read on any given day. While this information might be of importance to a well-meaning parent, therapist or stalker I can’t imagine many other people in my life who care to see the latest photo of my latest trip to the zoo, how it smelled and what I fed to the chimps on the sly.

At one time I kept diaries or journals to find my way through the blurred confusion of adolescence. But as an adult, I tended to only keep track of the big moments–weddings, babies, holidays and the like. Which all leads me to the point of this blog. If it isn’t twittered or facebooked, did it actually happen? Like the proverbial tree in the forest–if no one hears it…

Anyway, I’ve decided that my existence is quite complete without documenting every small moment. I’m perfectly content watching a TV show without having to take a quiz on it to see how many of the characters I remember ten years later, let alone what their trademark sayings were. I’m old-fashioned I guess in that respect. Some things are better left just lived and savored in the corner of one’s mind to reflect on later. Those moments forgotten are probably best left forgotten.

For me, there is a disconnect with Facebook. First of all, most of the people aren’t my friends, they’re associates. I learn a little about them and more than I want to sometimes. They learn very little about me because there isn’t much to know, except that my life is pretty boring. I could drum up stories about my crazy brother, or my crazy cousin from the south or even my crazy aunt in Buffalo, but I doubt if I would get any of the “like” icons showing up on those posts.

I mainly stick to causes and posts related to my interests and wonder why I even bother. There are so many causes–albino, Lithuanian, dyslexics in need of something. And no doubt someone will find the post offensive and block me. Nevertheless, I’m addicted to the sites and have let them invade my life and time that I could be spending actually talking to someone in full sentences.

Another 21st century nuisance or necessity? You tell me…

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