Facebook

I have at least a dozen friends on Facebook. Which is pretty remarkable considering I don't even have a profile. I could go back and count I suppose, but if memory serves, I have gotten approximately 10 e-mails inviting me to join the Facebook community. I will say here that I will never belong to Facebook.

It's nothing personal, and for those of you with Facebook accounts who are finally able to get in touch with the kid you once swapped sandwiches with in grade three...well good for you. Seriously. If that is what your life was missing then great. Facebook is a perfect vehicle for you.

Are there people from my past I would like to know about? You bet. Do I care enough to have people "poking" me or, and I hope this never happens, "super poke" me? Do I care enough about how so-and-so's divorce/tour in Afganistan/liposuction/trip to the mall/quadruple bypass/haircut/gender reassignment went that I need to publish my every action on a public website where it can be viewed by all?

I prefer to live in the now. That's just me. People aren't accepting that though. They ask, and I tell them Facebook is not for me. Then they defend. Like they are not happy to accept my answer as I have accepted theirs. I am amazed at what people are willing to put out there. Shit that would never be divulged in person, or for that matter, on any other web page.

Let's say that your bank suggested that as part of your online banking you could put pictures of all of your stuff, children, family pets etc. You know, for fun. When you log in, you could put your mood, or current status. "Scott is trading in small cap assets." No. You would balk. I don't get it. And to have each and every activity I perform be tagged, dated and published. Not my idea of fun.

"But you blog", they say. Yes. I blog. I choose what is said, done, read. And if I choose to look at another person's blog and write a comment, the fact that I have done this is not posted on my blog. Nice and simple. I can not have a mini personal profile done of me by someone who looks at what I have typed or clicked on over the past week. That is my comfort level. It is safe here in my box. And I like it.