madmonq’s joint

(In which your humble author is mostly kidding but not really)

…and thus spend as little time on it as possible. I was harassed into participating by people I know and trust. Now I must re-evaluate everything I think about them and myself.

There are many many lovely people that I am glad of their friendship. Fakebook enables everyone everywhere to appear that way too, no matter how detestable they are. It  breaks down the wall between a face to face friend and the people you’d rather avoid in real life.

As my human alter ego (not ‘madmonq’) I will send representatives in the form of news articles or goofy videos clips. Otherwise I’m not sure that I’m bringing anything useful to the table. I am far too cranky to deal with the sort of assumed high school level glee, the sort of fake camaraderie affected by many of its participants and best left to high school reunions and years past.

Facebook thrives on a blunt force faux-happiness usually assigned to cheerleaders that, as an adult, I want to nothing to do with. It’s the sort of cheerfulness expected when two clearly miserable people announce their engagement. — the kind necessary when she is too needy and he’s dick. “Oh really?? Well that’s great!!!”.  Secretly you are now pissed you have to buy this future divorce a wedding present.  Such is the continued awkward social bind you’ll repeatedly find yourself in on the Facebook.

Ass-Facebook registration brought me in contact with a host of people, past and present, that I never thought I’d hear from again.  Old high school friends, work associates and relatives.  Some of were never really friends, were annoying , I haven’t seen them in years and suddenly! they want to be “friends”! No they don’t and no I can’t. FaceSpace has placed me in the ordinarily avoidable position of being fake, ignoring “friend” requests (Which makes me look like an asshole. I’m not saying that I’m not) or actively ignoring False -Facebook altogether. I’ve chosen a combination of all three with mixed results.

High School Friends!!!

The most pernicious sect of the FaceSpace cult: Relatively nice people from high school. Really. They are very nice but we were never as close as they think. I have little patience for “Remember the time…??” No I don’t and, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t the sort of life changing “Breakfast Club” moment they remember it to be. Unlike others, I truly don’t hold them any ill will. I just wish them some sort of temporary ill that’ll prevent them from contacting me again with anything less than basic punctuation. Like a small head wound.

Coworkers!!!

I would like my coworkers to take a head injury too, but only seriously enough where they’d forget my name but not forget they have to work. Anything more would just mean more work for me. They have to be functional enough to come to work and remember the good work- related gossip.  Or at minimum, be functional enough to believe anything I’d tell them.  I don’t want to gossip about work on the internet. I want to gossip about work at work, where I’m being paid for it. Otherwise it can wait until the next business day.  It’s probably not the best idea to tell all your business on the Facepuss anyway, dummy.  At work.  Especially before you get hired.  (I have a lot of requirement of my head traumatized work associates).

Relatives!!!

The previous dissociative events should tell you that I sort of avoid my extended family. There are good reasons for that. I thought that avoiding them altogether would be pretty much deliver the passive/aggressive message: Leave me alone. You are annoying. Then SpaceFace came along.   After BookFace contact had been made, old family roles are assumed, refitted and retrofitted like an easter suit long outgrown. I learned to have no expectations of this particular group and for years they’ve lived up to them, why stop now? 

This is a group that could best serve by taking taking a serious head injury and forgetting I ever existed. They’ve gone as far as not taking a serious head injury just to spite me. BookFace has allowed them to resume their familial duty of pestering me over a long distance. As is the habit of unpleasant people, they think I am overjoyed to hear from them. I don’t know if you can tell or not, But This Is Not the Case.

You’d think general cantankerousness and a head injury would be enough to scare people away from bothering me on the UglyFaceBook. It should be but it’s not. Social networking sites don’t play to its strengths. It instead provides a buffer that allows people to believe it’s OK to harass their “friends” with repeated requests for Harry Potter personality quizzes (I am probably the most evil one. Dumbledore, is it?). Or which of the Seven Dwarfs you are (If he existed I’d be Stabby. Stabby Dwarf.*).

Continued in Part II.