I wrote this ten years ago. Facebook is now used by over two billion people of all ages for everything from news to gossip to trashy lies, which are hard to tell apart sometimes today. And pictures don’t help. Unless someone is trying to garner sympathy and money, the photos seem to have one filter: perfection, the definition of which is the extreme version of the best that was photographed could theoretically be. And then some.

How do I know these things? Statistics are easy to research. The rest? I don’t know from firsthand experience! That would be too easy and out of character. I listen and learn. You’d be surprised at the information you can learn by observation. It’s the same method used by the early rebels in the Revolutionary War. With Paul Revere and the Raiders yelling “The Rebels are coming! The Rebels are coming!” all through the town, a lot of people learned some very valuable information. Later, the same boisterous gang would teach us about an Indian Nation. But I digress.

I’ll admit it. I’m afraid of Facebook.

Consider the facts:

  • I’m blogging, sort of. Every couple of months. Give or take.
  • I just texted someone.  I’m hoping it was my son.
  • I ended my teaching career with several highly popular online courses.

Isn’t all that testimony enough to my willingness to wade into the murky cyber-waters that didn’t even exist when my brain was young and best able to absorb all this change-in-a-nanosecond technology?

Heck, nanoseconds didn’t exist when I was in college.  So give a dizzy blonde a little credit for at least being here.

But you won’t find me on Facebook.

I’ve worked hard to simplify my life.

Facebook seems like one wormy way to complicate things faster than you can “ping” or “poke” or do whatever you do to those other faces who may or may not be real and whose lives you may or may not care about. (I realize that I may or may not be making sense. I’ve come to accept that about myself.)

Really, People. How do you know if these Faces in the Book are real?

Shizzle sticks, I have a hard enough time figuring out if people standing right in front of me are genuine.

Plus, I don’t want to be poked; I prefer hugging.

Those occasional “friend” requests via email put me in a tailspin. I’m immediately transported to my hyper-sensitive teenage days when friends defined me.

If I don’t accept the “friend request,” will the person think I’m a snob?

I’m not a snob! I have to send a long email and explain that if I accept the request, I’ll have to get a Facebook account, which, to me, is tantamount to entering a maze. Blindfolded.

I can just imagine the sleepless nights I’d be in for if I became one of the nearly 1.25 billion active users. Solitaire and teaching my dog tricks are too important for me to get caught up in being a Facebookaholic.

No, my insomnia would be caused by my angst if someone rejected my friend request. Why aren’t they responding? Are they mad at me? What can I do to make them like me? Should I send another request? OMG, have they blocked me?

I just don’t need all that Facebook drama in my life. I have enough Face-person/Face-dog drama to keep me awake if I choose to worry about any of it.

There are many advantages to being on Facebook.

  • You can find people, even if they don’t want to be found.
  • You can avoid email and telephones–only using your expensive smartphones as mini-computers and cameras (but I’m told they can act as telephones, too).
  • While your public speaking skills may atrophy, your manual dexterity with any sized keyboard becomes legendary.
  • You can collect “friends” and feel really good about the fact that you know more strangers than your siblings, partner, or co-workers.

I may or may not be kidding.

Social networking used to mean going to a physical place and actually talking with people–inefficient and cumbersome by today’s standards. Now it means something very different. For nearly 1.25 billion people, it seems to work. For me, not so much.

But that’s alright. I’d understand if, unlike me, you were afraid of public speaking and avoided it.