Facebook. Not.

Some of you, well, I'm quite embarrassed to say, probably most of you have by now discovered either through the gossip vine or through e-mail that I had finally succumbed to the notorious social networking site that has dominated our society for almost a decade: Facebook. Ah yes, the mention of such a household name brings to mind many things. As Pavlov's dog would put it, "drool, slobber, drool, pant." Well before you rush to CTRL + T another tab on your browser to type my name into the search bar and gush out a congratulatory wall post, I should tell you that it was, fortunately, all a ruse. Your gullibility is sadly to the benefit of Chicco Chou, who is by now half chortling and half coughing out a lung in his squeaky black computer chair, twirling his mustache. (Okay, maybe without the mustache, but I paint a fitting picture of him, don't I?) Yes, I realize that my confession will lose me 19, maybe even 100 potential friends, but hey, t'would have been cruel to let you go on believing that my interests only consisted of an over-emphatic zeal for. . . France, and that the only photographs I had of myself were badly taken photographs from my 20th birthday.

Nice try.

The most amusing and simultaneously rather depressing point is the reactions I got when I revealed to those who believed I had actually gotten a facebook:

Clement:
Clement: facebook

1:39 AM OH

WTH

Buntoengsuk:

10:31 PM Allan: DUDE WE'RE FACEBOOK FRIENDS

HALLELUJAH

10:32 PM me: ...

hate to break it to you

Allan: YOU DON'T HATE ME AFTER ALL

HUH

me: that's not my facebook.

Allan: YOU BEEZY REALLY

I KNEW IT WAS TOO FREAKIN GOOD TO BE TRUE

My apartment mate:
Christine: WHAAT?

WHY IS THE FACEBOOK NOT REAL WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

Anguish. Confusion. Frustration. During these times of tragic epiphany, one can only console with a gentle, but firm, "It's going to be okay." And world, it is going to be okay. It will be okay.

For those of you truly inquisitive about my faithful rejection to Facebook, I can offer an official explanation. I should warn, that my "boycott" of sorts does not sit well with many. Strangely enough, I've gotten into full-blown arguments over the entire ordeal, but we won't get into that right now. I should also preface with the fact that, yes, I do know that Facebook is a valuable tool to keep in touch with old friends, new friends, lovers, haters, debaters, whatever. Pretty much anyone in the world. I realize that it is also useful for planning events -- large & small, to be in the "know," to remember birthdays, to share photographs, to start a conversation, and the list goes on. I know. However, there are many reasons as to why this fish is swimming upstream. You should also know that I have met quite a few people who are like me: waiting for the Facebook trend to die away. Erica, Michael Niktaris, Dennis, and even Sarah (whom I met in Paris!) to name the few.

Anyway. It all began one sunny afternoon on Valentine's Day. I had prepared a quasi-picnic for my boyfriend at the time. We went to the park for our 40 min. lunch break (how romantic). I had laid out the blanket and we sat, chatting about whatever the hell high school seniors chat about. I was excited, and happy, to be spending time with him. I should mention that we had only been "together" for 4 days. He was the sheltered, proper type, I was the rebellious, free-spirited type, you know. So we're having a good time, at ease, talking about how much we like each other and yada yada. Finally, he brought up my Myspace page. The gist of it was that my page was too "racy" because in it I said that I thought sex was beautiful. An idea, while taken out of context could be construed as uncouth, that was actually taken originally from the poet, Octavio Paz. I also had some typically promiscuous teenage photographs on there consisting of extreme angles and I don't know what else. He said that his parents didn't approve and that honestly, his friends could stumble upon it. And, if in fact they ever did, what would that do to his reputation? What would that say about him? Needless to say the picnic was thoroughly ruined by shouting, crying, and storming off in substitution for exchanged Valentines and hugging. (You might now see why I hate Valentine's Day as well)

At that time, I had about 300 or 400 friends on Myspace. I don't know, some obscene amount of people that had somehow considered me a friend over the 3 or 4 year span that I had a Myspace. Oh yeah, I had my top 10, my customized page, my incessant inbox-checking. If you wanted to have access to me, you might as well could have sent me a message via Myspace than called me. That's how immediate I was. Well I wound up going home and erasing my Myspace that night and replacing all my profile text with, "THIS IS NOT WHO I AM." Because it wasn't.

People are not meant to be sized up in photographs or numbers or the films they watch, and the people they know. People are meant to be talked to: face to face, they're meant to be engaged with, loved, known. What Matt said to me that afternoon really hurt me, and retrospectively, I should have known that the first real fight we had would shed light on issues that ultimately expanded, but wound up being about the same thing. He wasn't comfortable with who I was -- where I came from. Rather, he was uncomfortable with how people perceived me, and how that would affect him. Furthermore, after knowing me, and professing to love me, he would refuse to defend me. Ultimately we parted ways because there was still a part of me that he wasn't comfortable with, that he hadn't accepted.

I'm sorry that I can't summarize who I am to you in a single webpage. I'm sorry that I can't bare an outline of my interests, my hobbies, myself to you, but I don't think that's fair. To you, or to me. I don't think you deserve it, to be honest. If you want to get to know me, then get to know me. Don't take the easy way out, because that would take the fun & mystery out of building real relationships.


Cheers.