Yes, I fear this place.
Perhaps it’s a misguided fear but I’m one to err on the side of caution most of the time. Emphasis on the word “most”. Sometimes I charge blindly into the woodchipper without safety goggles and end up blinding myself but that’s another blog subject (note to self: woodchipper as a blog idea).
But back to Facebook.
My nephew is a card-carrying cult member. So is my neice who, in a ploy to lure me into Facebook membership has withheld e-mail pics of my grand-nephew Noah and posted them exclusively on her Facebook page just slightly out of my reach. My gene pool seems predestined to gather here. Perhaps I’m adopted? (another note to self). Even my sister is on it and she’s more of a computer illiterate that I which fuels my fear even more.
I have received these little “knocks” from Facebook notifying me that I’m a friend of a friend who recommended a friend who wants to be my friend. These knocks have gone unanswered until a few days ago when I got a knock from someone I met recently who is really a cool dude and his wife is a really cool dudette. Now, it’s one thing to ignore your own family since they expect it, but a cool couple who just wants to say howdy? That’s another bucket of fish altogether.
I found myself in a sticky wicket of a social nature and I do not like sticky wickets of a social nature.
So I ventured in.
I did not like it.
But I wrote something on their “wall” anyway even though I had no idea what I was doing or what this wall was or where my words would ultimately end up. I think I actually said that on my post.
Then WHAM-O! I got a flood of other Facebook notifications.
Is this like an Internet marketing thing?
Does Facebook just wander around searching for people’s e-mail addresses that members put down as friends and whenever that e-mail actually enters Facebook for the first time they grab it, put it in a stranglehold and then pepper you with so-and-so-wants-to-be-your-friend notifications?? Holy shit! To me, this is sick and twisted and propels me back to my grade school days when I’d lay awake at night and pray that all the other kids would like me and that big mean girl, Karen Bluer, wouldn’t pick on me like she did poor Lisa Brooks? (name has been changed to protect the innocent). Poor Lisa, she always smelled of urine. I remember it like it was yesterday. But I did manage to win over Karen by giving her access to my board game KABOOM which she seemed to be fascinated with.
But alas, if I ever want to pictures of Canadian nephew ever again, I suppose I’ll have to conquer my fear.
I have to resign myself to the Facebook learning curve and familiarize myself with prompts such as:
Write on so and so’s “wall” or give a “gift” to so and so. I have also heard speak of something called the Ring of Fire, or Pit of Fire or something of that nature that requires some sort of ransom or pleading for one’s cyberlife.
I want no part of that fire thing.
By the way, it appears that I, too, have a wall. But I don’t know how to find it.
Facebook has also told me that my profile is naked.