Awhile back I wrote a post calling Facebook the devil. I hated the insipid, superfluous crap people posted, everyone’s lives so seemingly perfect, not to mention my family’s posts and photos continually reminding me I’m the black sheep of the family, the outcast, liberal, artsy-fartsy freak, excluded from all gatherings.
I never went on Facebook all that much and I scoffed at the folks who seemed to be on it 24/7. Surely they had no lives, or they were avoiding conversation with their significant others, or possibly they were attention sluts, or having virtual affairs with rediscovered childhood sweethearts.
Then I took a social media class and my entire life changed. I decided to stick my big, fat toe into the sea of unabashed admission. Followed more authors, saw what they were doing. Began to go on FB every day. Tolerated it…then liked it…liked it more…and then…and then…I fell, and I fell hard. It was like a bright light had suddenly been switched on in my dark and bitter pessimistic soul. How could I have been so blind not to recognize Facebook’s magnificence sooner? Especially with me being such a visual person?
I discovered quirky pages, artistic pages, sexy pages, dark and twisted, sarcastic and bitchy pages—everything I am, I found within this social media framework. And I reveled in it all. I felt compelled to log in 5, 6, 7 or more times a day so I didn’t miss anything. The more pages I liked and people I followed, the lengthier my news feed. I’d like one page, and then 6 more suggestions would pop up for similar pages, so I’d gleefully click on them, and so on and so on. Hours slipped by as I interacted with other like-minded brethren. THIS is my culture; not my soul-less suburban nightmare of a town. I didn’t need to be around people. I got all the social stimulation I needed from postings less than a paragraph long.
The happier I was over my newfound love, the more magnanimous I became. I no longer roll my eyes at God quotes or inspirational garbage, or cute kittens because I have simply accepted them as insights into a person’s personality. And I have been known to post some inspirational garbage of my own, especially when it comes to love. (I am a romance writer, after all.) I show a glimpse of my warm and fuzzy side on my author page and on my personal one, I get to be the raunchy, sarcastic bitch that I truly am.
Not familiar with Grumpy Cat? George Takei’s page? Tattooed Mommy? You don’t know what you’re missing. There are pages out there with names like “Reading someone’s status and thinking ‘oh shut the hell up’” and “Thepenisinhermouth. I read it wrong the first time.” (Get it? Neither did I the very first time.)
“I fucking love science,” “You can Call Me Mistress,” and, wait for it…“50 Shades of Craptastic Grey.”
I am in fucking Facebook heaven.
Like it? Hate it? Tell me what you think of FB.