Dec 13
The only good thing about Facebook…
Tomorrow, Caspar and I are going to visit an old friend I lost contact with years and years ago. Finding her, and others like her, is the only reason I maintain an account at Facebook which I otherwise would have no patience for, which, in fact, I actively dislike. In the last few weeks I have reconnected with a number of people who had disappeared from my life, both through Facebook and through The Cerebral Mum; childhood friends from Myrtleford and people I hung out with during my university days. Not a plethora of them, but the one’s I actually cared about.
I could write a tract on all the things I loathe about Facebook but while I think it’s a terribly shallow way to interact with cyber-friends, it is a useful directory for reconnecting with the real life ones you’ve lost track of. Given how denuded of people my world is, and that I have nobody who shares my nothings, I have to give some credit where credit is due.
Of course, visiting still isn’t easy. There is distance, and there is depression. I have cancelled 2 weeks in a row. But tomorrow, I am just going. In fact, I’m going tonight, sleeping over at my cousin’s in town because it will make the journey easier in the morning; less daunting, less exhausting and less avoidable.
I now have a deadline to get myself ready and get out of this house and there can be no more delays. I am not letting myself worry about going out when the house is a disaster area, or that the clothes I want myself and Caspar to wear are in the wash, or that I should pluck my eyebrows and straighten my hair, and try desperately to remove the stains from Caspar’s stroller liner.
Because, really, Ms. S is not going to give a shit what my hair looks like or think I am pathetic if Caspar looks like a messy boy instead of a glossy advertisement for the perfect mother. Ms. S has a little boy herself so she’ll know the truth of it anyway and we would never have been friends if she was the kind of person who judged others on those terms. I don’t care about those things myself so I am ignoring that voice that wants me to be ashamed of myself and I’m just going.
Even if I am a walking disaster area.
So, I have a lot of organising to do to pack a bag for an overnight stay. But thanks, Facebook, for getting me out into the real world again, in spite of the fact that your cyber-world sucks.
December 13th, 2007 at 7:01 pm
Yes, pay no attention to that little voice. That is the same voice that tries to get me to stop writing a how to post when I’m in the middle of writing it already. That is the same voice that tells me “You don’t know how to do that”. Lately I have taken somewhat perverse pleasure in proving that voice wrong all the time.
Cheers,
Snoskred
December 15th, 2007 at 12:08 pm
It’s the voice that’s perverse, not the pleasure!