Facebook Saga
Facebook Saga. Wouldn’t you know it? I’m sure most have a Facebook account, everyone seems to, at least. You can find friends, foes, furry animals and funeral notices, get into arguments, debates, and shouting matches with all caps and strong cusswords, and you can find love with a stranger.
But it’s not all cookies and cream. Facebook, (and seemingly all social media) is the single biggest cause of my and most people’s strife. I can’t attest to the validity of that statement in other parts of the world because I am not there, but I would imagine it is universal.
We would not have a pandemic worthy of note without Facebook. We would not have a Bad Orange Man, we wouldn’t have a lost Biden, and we definitely wouldn’t have BLM or antifa or federal troops barging in to riots they weren’t invited to. It would all be happening I suppose, but no one would care. Except for Facebook.
Facebook, for me, is much like alcohol. I can’t stop, it is killing me slowly, and there are no meetings to go to to relieve the anguish of the post. I put it down yesterday after a week of intense noting of the dire events happening in our world. Pandemic and masks and social distancing, election woes, troop woes, riots, protests, and various bumps to earth of significant import that really means nothing. Nothing at all.
The world will spin, the seasons change, and life will continue until the big asteroid visits. My journey is now dedicated to staying off of Facebook. Just for today, and god willing, tomorrow will offer respite to me and allow me another day of freedom from the noise, and on and on. I got sober years ago. It was much the same trip. I would wake up in my drunken days with one thing in mind. Get drunk. Now I Facebook, (yes, it can be a verb). But there are no meeting to be had and even if there were we couldn’t go to them because it’s less important to stay alive than to get a new bug. Someone might sing, then we’d all go to jail for illegal singing.
So, I am left to my devices and my will to control the tremors and nausea of the withdrawal. I got up this morning determined, but what do I do while my breakfast is cooking? What do I do when I make my morning dedication to the porcelain dumper? What do I do? I can play Word with friends but the little icon for that is right next to the Facebook icon. I have never felt so heavy a move as the move of my finger to drop that little icon in the trash, knowing that it only relegated it to my files. I know it’s not all the way gone and I can find it if I absolutely have to. Much like knowing that there is an infinite number of bottles of booze at the store. It’s the same thing!
But I passed those brief encounters with insanity so far. And it’s almost 9AM. I will be going to work soon and it’s light years easier for me to refrain from posting the latest bitch about the news, Newsom, or the insanity I see there when I scroll. So I have a small reprieve. I worry about break time though. It will be tough relegating my efforts to one minute at a time much like I did years ago when I left booze behind me. But there is light, there is hope, and there is a certain cleanliness in my heart and soul in my distance.
In lieu of meetings I will offer this here as a confirmation; Hi, my name is Ken and I am a Facebooker and god grant me the serenity to accept this mother fucking shit…oops.
