Ever think in snatches of songs? Seems to be one of my brain patterns.
While I lie there at night, victim of my fluctuating hormones, trying to remember how to sleep, “I can hear the soft (!) breathing of the [man] that I love, as [he] lies here beside me, asleep with the night…” (Simon & Garfunkel, early on, remember), I think … like Fagan (viz. Oliver the movie, not the book). “I am reviewing the situation… I think I better think it out again!”
The sanctioned voyeurism of Facebook has to go! Once and for all.
Apart from being an enormous time-wasting distraction at the office, I am struck by two conversations I had recently about virtual social networking – both along the lines that friendships tend to be for a season/a reason. Recognising this means we should move on and concentrate on the real people in our lives at the moment. (Ghosts from the past may materialize, but are welcome - in a new form.) So apologies to those of you who are real and here, that I allow the once-I knew-you and the I-think-I once-knew-you to absorb the remaining shreds of my social networking that you may or may not be interested in pursuing.
And I pray…
“Lord of reality, make me real…” ('70s song - don't remember the details). A virtual life for a virtual prisoner? Glued to the computer day in and day out, but not really being present in my own real world. A card I once got urged, “Wherever you are, be all there.” Remember Audrey Hepburn, Liza, impatient with Freddy in “My Fair Lady”, marching down the street in the middle of the night. “Anyone who’s ever been in love will tell you that – this is no time for a chat!… if you’re in love, show me!”. So why don’t I call you, meet you for coffee, write you an e-mail instead of asking you to join “Facebook”? Then we’d know what’s behind the face, the assumed identity, where friends are counted, but not measured, where status reduces a quest for a significant life to the banal.
While the sociologists have a field day, analyzing Facebook and the like from every angle, I affirm that my social needs are as real as ever, but that this particular avenue does not sit easy on my conscience right now.
Five twenty-six and the birds are chirping tentatively. New day. As I logged on to blog (yes, I know it has been a long time), I opened a message from a friend I had invited to join Facebook a few days ago (new year flurry!): “Fran beloved, not going on Facebook, there will be so many young gorgeous men stalking me, the risks will be too great. Joining delusionalpensioners.com instead.”
I wonder if she is free for coffee?
