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slipjig3Yesterday, I couldn't. Could. Not.
To that end, I called in sick from work, and hung a GONE FISHIN' shingle on my Facebook that read, "Unplugging for an undetermined period of time. We'll catch up on the flip side. Take care of yourselves, loves." I was back at work this morning. I was not back on Facebook.
Social media is a concept with an asterisk welded on. It operates under the idea that it's bringing us together, but it does so in the way a pep rally brings us together: bright banners and loud noises and camaraderie, with no room to ask the things we need to ask or say what needs saying. As someone whose friends are all scattered and far, I'm standing here watching the world on fire and wanting to call them, but completely unable to handle the static on the phone line. Facebook is an exposed nerve. BlueSky is an echo chamber of all the things I'm trying to keep out of my skull. Instagram is a decent salve if I skip to the language nerds and owl videos and snapshots of this morning's teacup, but not much more.
I know I'm not saying anything new. What I mean to say is that I need this place. Dear gods, do I need this place, if only because there is literally no other place on the internet where I could have typed the preceding three paragraphs and hit "POST". Everywhere that's not DW feels as safe as a malfunctioning soldering iron.
Today I can't. Can. Not. But I need to start trying. We'll call this page one.
Hi.
To that end, I called in sick from work, and hung a GONE FISHIN' shingle on my Facebook that read, "Unplugging for an undetermined period of time. We'll catch up on the flip side. Take care of yourselves, loves." I was back at work this morning. I was not back on Facebook.
Social media is a concept with an asterisk welded on. It operates under the idea that it's bringing us together, but it does so in the way a pep rally brings us together: bright banners and loud noises and camaraderie, with no room to ask the things we need to ask or say what needs saying. As someone whose friends are all scattered and far, I'm standing here watching the world on fire and wanting to call them, but completely unable to handle the static on the phone line. Facebook is an exposed nerve. BlueSky is an echo chamber of all the things I'm trying to keep out of my skull. Instagram is a decent salve if I skip to the language nerds and owl videos and snapshots of this morning's teacup, but not much more.
I know I'm not saying anything new. What I mean to say is that I need this place. Dear gods, do I need this place, if only because there is literally no other place on the internet where I could have typed the preceding three paragraphs and hit "POST". Everywhere that's not DW feels as safe as a malfunctioning soldering iron.
Today I can't. Can. Not. But I need to start trying. We'll call this page one.
Hi.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-08 11:50 pm (UTC)That's so very true. I think that has equally to do with the nature of long-form content and the fact that most of the people here are here because we remember how it used to be, and have a vested interest in maintaining that spirit. That's why I think even filtering Facebook would fall short for me—even the stuff I want to see comes at me in a louder, more chaotic register, one that doesn't even feel like there's a person on the other side. It has its uses (kind of), but none of those uses are of use to me right now.