Facebook Loves Me, It Loves Me Not...

Facebook (Crackbook, as some of my more addicted friends call it) isn’t just for kids anymore. According to a 2009 report on cnet.com, from January to July of 2009 alone—6 short months—the number of users 55 and over grew by 513.7%. Some of us aren’t just FB friends with our kids; we’re on-line friends with our grandkids, too.

Check out TIME’s 2009 article about why FB is for old folks: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1879169,00.html

Here’s my own handy-dandy list of reasons why I both HATE & LOVE Facebook…

Love: I’ve reconnected with friends from school I’d lost track of over the years. Some of them I hadn’t heard from since elementary school (back in the days when we shivered on the stoop, barefoot in a driving blizzard, with nothing but old flour sacks for coats, waiting for the covered-wagon school bus).

Hate: FB made me remember WHY I’d lost track of some folks over the years, and I’m sure they’re now thinking the same thing about me.

Love: I take guilty voyeuristic pleasure in knowing what folks are up to—their travels, their treks down to the river or up Spirit Mound, new recipes they’ve tried, events they’re hosting/attending/promoting, bathrooms they're remodeling, the ingenious way they got black shoe polish out of a beige linen dress. It’s like "Hints from Heloise", Hell’s Kitchen, Wild Kingdom, and National Geographic mixed together and chopped into tiny, tasty bits.

Hate: I love you, but unless you're my son or daughter, I don’t want to know—ever—when your period starts, when you go back on your psych meds, when you have ANY kind of cramps, what pain killers you’re taking for those cramps, when you’re throwing up, the color of the freakish discharge from your nose, or what nasty, gross, or evil thing you did to your girl/boyfriend for breakup revenge. And I don’t think I’m alone here. I don’t think your other 3472 BFF’s want to know, either. Before you post something on FB, how about you take a moment to imagine yourself on stage, standing at the mic, in a cozy theatre that seats…say…a million people (if you count how much of your FB stuff has leaked/seeped out into the ether in spite of your “privacy” settings). Would you announce to those people, face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball, that thing you’re about to post on FB? Really? Call me a puritan (you’d be the first), but I believe some things ARE too personal for FB.

Love: I love seeing pictures of people I haven’t seen for ages. This can sometimes make me believe I’m aging gracefully and still have that plucky Pippi Longstocking impishness.

Hate: Seeing pictures of other old friends can send me into a nosedive of hopeless surrender, where I dig through the pantry for Little Debbie Crème Pies and marshmallow sauce and take to my La-Z-Girl; Ray will find me days later with a marshmallow mustache, wrapped in a fuzzy blankie, rocking, and humming “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

Love: I love that I can eavesdrop on the lives of my family & friends, and instantly share in their joys, celebrations, and accomplishments.

Hate: There’s already a syndrome called “Facebook Depression” (http://www.baltimoresun.com/health/kdaf-facebook-depression-story,0,4742055.story) that afflicts folks (mostly kids) who spend too much time on FB. They develop depression or anxiety—sometimes severe—as a result of comparing their lives to the lives of others. I know people my age who've left FB because they're sick of hearing about other people's "perfect" lives. Seriously?!? You think these people with the "perfect" lives aren't posting selectively? (FB is, after all, the ultimate personal marketing tool.) Anyway, no matter what you see on FB, here's the real deal: Everyone’s life is hard.

Hate: that FB is the narcissist’s playground, where one can chronicle every gritty detail of one’s daily life.

Love: that FB is the narcissist’s playground, where one can chronicle every gritty detail of one’s daily life.