A Strange Land

After being a holdout for years I succumbed and joined Facebook. Did I want to remain on the outside when everyone I knew had capitulated and joined? I asked myself if not joining meant that I was letting the world slip by—did it mean that I fell into that category of too stodgy, too old, too behind the times?

So I joined—found a respectable photo and sought out a dozen people I knew to friend. What a travesty of that word. As soon as my photo went up I received a comment—was that a wet suit I was wearing? No, my dark blue jacket had stripes. Then two people assured me that they thought the photo looked good. Actually I had found the comment amusing—especially because I have never done any underwater swimming—save for playing Marco Polo years ago.

After my initial foray I checked the news feed. I understand it all now. This is a place to record everything—the important, the trivial, the repetition. I feel like I'm from a different planet, an alien.

Friends release a plethora of words, photos, links —responses are made and people like or dislike what has been put out there, comments are made and then it all begins again.