And yet, for a long time I couldn\u2019t get rid of it. Did I use it? Barely. Was it a way to look up people I\u2019d lost tabs on? Not really. Did it connect me to long lost friends and family members? No, because we either used Instagram (another Facebook extension \u2013 but let\u2019s not get into it) or realized there was a reason we\u2019d lost touch and barely engaged to begin with. But it was still Facebook<\/em>. It was still familiar. What if I needed to get in touch with . . . somebody? So I kept it, cursing it daily.<\/p>\n Until I got a message from somebody I barely knew, the contents of which annoyed me to my very core. Granted, it wasn\u2019t offensive or rude or mean, but it was a shining example of that quote in King of the Hill<\/em>: \u201cAre you attempting to know me?\u201d The tone was a little too familiar and the message itself was completely out of the blue. Plus, since it came from somebody I hadn\u2019t seen or spoken to in years, it was annoying and it irritated me, which are two unforgiveable offences I\u2019ll hold a grudge over until I\u2019m long dead. So I deleted the message, did one last feed scroll, lit Facebook on fire, and salted the earth where it once stood.<\/p>\n Or, more literally, I deactivated my account and evolved into that meme of Nicole Kidman celebrating her divorce from Tom Cruise, those many moons ago. I was free. Free from status updates from that girl in first year who has intense feelings about her child\u2019s daycare. Free from misspelled song lyrics. Free from videos accompanied by the \u201cmakes you think\u201d caption or the surprise revelation that who you sat next to in grade 12 law champions a right-wing government. But perhaps even more importantly, I was finally free from the parts of my past that should remain in the past. Because as much as I love to reflect and remember, I love Don Draper saying, \u201cMy life moves in one direction: forward\u201d even more.<\/p>\n Nostalgia is one thing. A perpetual high school\/college\/university\/first-real-job reunion is another. It\u2019s okay not to stay connected with every person all the time. We lose touch for a reason, and why is that a bad thing?<\/p>\n It\u2019s not. But in the same way I once got FOMO scrolling through Instagram (I\u2019m too old now \u2013 go to your parties, I\u2019ll see you in hell), I had the fear of FOMO every time I thought about deactivating Facebook. What if so-and-so said a thing? What if someone had a baby and I didn\u2019t acknowledge it? What if people I wanted to impress from 2008 didn\u2019t see the work I was doing now? Well: too bad. It doesn\u2019t matter. Because if someone is my actual friend, we likely have each other\u2019s phone numbers or Instagram handles, and I am too tired to stick around a party I haven\u2019t wanted to be at in a long time, anyway. Especially since it usually means I get stuck in a digital corner, fielding messages from someone asking for a free download of my audiobook. (It\u2019s like, $10. Please just download it normally or honestly even illegally and leave me in peace.)<\/p>\n And I know none of this is a revelation. I know \u201cI left Facebook!\u201d isn\u2019t some gold star-earning proof of being cool. But goddamn it, you guys, I\u2019m so happy it\u2019s over. I\u2019m so happy I don\u2019t have to see relics pop up, reminding me that ten years ago I had a DIY blonde shag and wore three polo shirts at the same time. I\u2019m so happy I don\u2019t have to sift through event invites to improv shows or stag and does. I\u2019m so happy I\u2019m out of the loop because the loop I\u2019m still in is just fine. I\u2019m so happy I get to be Judy Garland in that clip of her singing \u201cI don\u2019t care.\u201d Because I don\u2019t! I don\u2019t care. Maybe I\u2019ll miss bananas-level status-announced news. Maybe I\u2019ll wish I could see that photo what\u2019s-his-name posted alongside lyrics to a song that\u2019s oddly dramatic, but peppered with Emojis that don\u2019t relate. Maybe I\u2019ll be less of a voyeur (probably not), and learn to keep my eyes on my own paper (until I have to consult somebody\u2019s tagged images on Instagram).<\/p>\n But also, who cares? I do not. I haven\u2019t for a long time. And while I would love to end this with some profound revelation that I left Facebook for any reason other than it annoyed me, I cannot. Because ultimately, I just wanted to stop caring about something that didn\u2019t matter. And I finally have. At least until I get bent out of shape over someone I thought I was cool with unfollowing me on Instagram. But that\u2019s an essay for another day.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" By: Anne T. Donahue Every one of us hates Facebook. You hate it. I hate it. The elderly woman who uses ski poles to power walk in my neighbourhood every day hates it (probably). If I ever heard anybody sing its praises, I would assume they\u2019d recently awoken from a several century slumber and stumbled […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":67426,"featured_media":117174,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[81718,64591],"tags":[83613,64627,83292,81720],"class_list":["post-117172","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-pop-culture","category-wellness","tag-anne-t-donahue-musings","tag-facebook","tag-top-story","tag-topstory"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/digiblocks.ca\/29secrets\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/06\/King-Of-The-Hill-Are-you-attempting-to-know-me.jpg\")
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