Sometimes I feel as if there is nothing left to say that hasn’t already been said. I read your posts the other day and that meme nailed it for me. And your blog post was spot on. That Pin you posted, slay. Twitter is a game you play to outwit the masses, 160 characters and done, game over. Your dinner last night on Insta will leave me wanting, indefinitely.
No social networking.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve whipped out my phone and swiped left, the place I most often lingered. Yes, FB, you won, you were on top of my list like an old ladies game of bingo, you are the granny’s game.
It’s almost embarrassing to admit, my allegiance, it gives me away and I might as well go grab my Centrum 21 and my Sudoku, I will hang up my fly swatter and bow, show’s over.
Why couldn’t I have been so sold out to something else, like Tumblr or Reddit or even snap chat. Snap Chat, now there is a close second, but not close enough I am afraid.
I’ve read almost an entire chapter of my book. I’ve written here, several times, just haven’t posted them all. I wrote in my journal, pen and paper. I’ve realized just how much of my life was really your lives, and how much you like mine.
Don’t get me wrong, inherent evil does not resideth in the pages and posts of the book that shows faces. But distraction in any form, that doesn’t add to life, takes from it. I made the choice to let it become me.
I miss my “fb friends.” But some of my tangible friends have already touch based to check on me, to see how I am, to let me know I still exist despite having not posted a single detail about the happenings of the past few days, the aromas pouring forth from the kitchen or the state of my felines being. It burdens me that I cannot share these intimate and pleasing life moments with you all, but I will have to settle for social solace rather than social networking…for a time.
Day 3, I’m waiting for you.