I got sucked into facebook purely for facebook stalking (as me and my friends call it) reasons. What kept me going, though, was refinding all the people who meant so much to me in elementary, middle, and high school. Those people I’d swore I’d be friends with forever, who I wrote international mail to, who I haven’t spoken to in years. Though, in defense of childhood friendships, it isn’t so much because I don’t want to as I am missing the e-mail/phone gene. E-mail tends to be purely business to me (though I love receiving them) and phones are for weekly conversations with my mom and brother.
Anyhow, facebook quickly lost me, as have all those other similar things—myspace, friendster, etc. It’s exactly like e-mail but with pictures and lots more people to keep up with. What I still find interesting about facebook though is that people can post pictures of you and tag them. So I open my e-mail and it says H has posted 3 pictures of you. I go to check them and they are pictures of me, yet not. Seeing myself in other people’s pictures is kinda like seeing myself in other people’s eyes lately. Facebook shows a girl who lets monkeys play with her hair, who hugs children in Bangladesh, and who looks extremely happy to be 26 in a red dress. I don’t feel like that girl, though I wish I knew her—she seems far more self-confident than I and I would even say she has together.
The real me, the me in the mirror, who wear purple sweatshirts and pajama pants at home and sits in front of a book or a computer ¾ of her life is usually frazzled, she runs late all the time (and excuses herself by saying things never start on time), she almost puts milk in the cupboard and cereal in the refrigerator, she abandons her vacuum cleaner at another person’s house for months, she writes blogs instead of studying for a final, etc, etc, etc. Not together, but kinda spread out all over the place—even in that little crack of space under the refrigerator where lost things never reappear from…
Anyhow, maybe I should look at other’s people’s pictures some more. Being overconfident isn’t good but not recognizing your good traits isn’t either, and I haven’t quite grown out of judging me from how other people perceive rather than from the virtue of my actions…
So that’s it, back to studying. Congenital heart disease—usually not a good thing.
Anyhow, facebook quickly lost me, as have all those other similar things—myspace, friendster, etc. It’s exactly like e-mail but with pictures and lots more people to keep up with. What I still find interesting about facebook though is that people can post pictures of you and tag them. So I open my e-mail and it says H has posted 3 pictures of you. I go to check them and they are pictures of me, yet not. Seeing myself in other people’s pictures is kinda like seeing myself in other people’s eyes lately. Facebook shows a girl who lets monkeys play with her hair, who hugs children in Bangladesh, and who looks extremely happy to be 26 in a red dress. I don’t feel like that girl, though I wish I knew her—she seems far more self-confident than I and I would even say she has together.
The real me, the me in the mirror, who wear purple sweatshirts and pajama pants at home and sits in front of a book or a computer ¾ of her life is usually frazzled, she runs late all the time (and excuses herself by saying things never start on time), she almost puts milk in the cupboard and cereal in the refrigerator, she abandons her vacuum cleaner at another person’s house for months, she writes blogs instead of studying for a final, etc, etc, etc. Not together, but kinda spread out all over the place—even in that little crack of space under the refrigerator where lost things never reappear from…
Anyhow, maybe I should look at other’s people’s pictures some more. Being overconfident isn’t good but not recognizing your good traits isn’t either, and I haven’t quite grown out of judging me from how other people perceive rather than from the virtue of my actions…
So that’s it, back to studying. Congenital heart disease—usually not a good thing.
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