I did not even care to be on Facebook.

A friend created an account for me so we could play Scrabble, because he logged into Scrabble via Facebook, I guess, and needed me to also have a Facebook account so we could play together.  Thus, BA Barakus was born, and I learned about Mr. T’s “real” name – and the pros and cons of social media since MySpace.

Facebook turned out to be pretty fun.  I connected with people I hadn’t seen since college, some who lived across the country once we found each other again.  I connected with people in different countries.  I connected with people I met once who seemed likable.  I have “friends” from friends’ bachelorette parties whom I’ve only seen that party weekend, and then at the wedding, and maybe at a wedding shower.  Some of their spouses were also my friends.  Facebook is good like that, showing you whom you have in common.  I have a friend from Asheville who now lives in Texas who’s friends (at least on Facebook) with my husband’s friend (or friend’s wife?) who lives in South Carolina and also was neighbors with my friend who used to work with me 3 law firms ago.  The South Carolina bunch ended up at my lawyer friend’s wedding and recognized my husband. 

I love that stuff.  I love Facebook’s 6 degrees of separation even if it still hasn’t led me to Kevin Bacon. 

But the longer I am on Facebook, the less of it I love.

My husband told me once – and I don’t think he claims this as his original thought – that Twitter is where you go to find out strangers are assholes and Facebook is where you go to find out people you know are assholes.  You can replace asshole (which is a gross word, albeit accurate here) with idiots in this instance, too.

I realize as I write this that no change will come from anything I say, other than the change I am effectuating in my own behavior, which is to spend less time online. Because it isn’t fun anymore. It is a mindless chore of sorts, hoping I will scroll across something delightful or useful receive a thoughtful message from someone while also cringing through the minefield of junk, opinions, criticisms, and ads.  And although I am making Facebook my subject here, because it is more often the site I’m on when I feel my blood pressure rise, I’ve long avoided Twitter’s seemingly hostile chaos, and Instagram isn’t flawless.  It’s not even the apps I’m mad at (as Facebook tries to become Pinterest and Instagram tries to become my life coach and Twitter tries to make me my best keyboard warrior self) – it’s the people whose content creates spaces I want to avoid.  I am avoiding people.