About Face

I changed my mind, bit the bullet and joined Facebook.

Concerns about privacy caused me to hesitate, but as I often tell anyone who will listen, the privacy horse left the barn a long time ago in this country, so why not?

As of this writing I have a dozen Facebook friends, most of whom I used to work with. What amazes me is how much these people have to share. Particularly the women. They all seem to have hundreds of pictures of themselves. Now I’m three times their age in many cases, and I have a only a third as many photos. And no small number of those are from film, so I’d have to convert them into jpgs for posting. That’s a lot of work. If I wanted to make Facebook a full-time job, I’m sure it would be easy. I think it must be a consuming occupation with some of these folks. And I see how this amoebic acquisition of friendships can become addicting.

But here’s my problem. My life just isn’t all that interesting, and I have no way of holding up my end in the sharing department. I was a journalist for a long time, and spent most of it concerned with what was happening to others, not to me. In this profession, we’re often so involved with others’ lives that we sometimes substitute that for living our own. But maybe that says more about me than about the profession.

I do hope my newfound friends forgives my lack of production. There will be very little to post on the wall for a while -- just for perspective, I have about enough for a Twitter a month, or a Christmas letter every couple of years. As for Facebook, I enjoy reading about what’s happening to people I know, although I’m still partly at the “What’s the point?” stage of the whole experience. I think there is one, which I expect to fully grasp in time. For now, though, please be patient.

There, now I’ve said it. Your friend, Coughswitch.