It took me a while. I’ve been threatening to delete my account almost since I opened it. Told that I can’t succeed as a writer without a Facebook account I’ve decided to rename it Assbook. I DO NOT have over seventeen hundred friends and it is hard to believe there are more thronging to have me on their page. I’m weary of checking my e-mail to discover that someone else has determined I need to review images of their neighbour’s grandchild eating cake. Or their dog wearing a dress. C’mon! Sadly, there are several friends and relatives with whom I lose my link but the internet and cell service up here in the backwoods is too sketchy to wrestle with something which has proven to be more nuisance than benefit.
I became completely disillusioned when I tried to unsubscribe. It was a fight. Clearly Facebook does not want anyone closing an account. It is difficult to even find a Facebook has grudgingly conceded control. The account is deactivated for a couple of weeks until it is finally deleted. That ordeal confirmed, to me, I was doing the correct thing. I’ve learned there is a large group of frustrated former Facebook subscribers who hold similar concerns and also don’t want their personal information filed away in perpetuity. Trying to unsubscribe from Facebook has confirmed that I was doing the right thing.
It was extremely difficult. Is there life without Facebook? It feels better already.
I’ll readily admit I hold some “Big Brother” conspiracy paranoia. The masses seem mesmerized by the weaving tentacles of social media. There are insidious aspects of giving up information and control to some faceless force. Whether in Vancouver or Shearwater folks can’t seem to move without texting, texting, texting. Anything that can insidiously persuade masses of people to enslave themselves in common mindless activities frightens the hell out of me. I refuse to say “baa” and I challenge everyone to ask questions.
It is Christmas time. We’ve had a long bout of sub-zero temperatures. Ice and frozen snow cover our world, including the ramp down onto my dock. At low tide it is very steep and too dangerous to use with its slick crust of ice. We’ve had extreme tides in the last few days with a range of up to nearly eighteen feet. For a couple of days it seemed the ramps were inclined upwards at high tide. We were very close to being inundated. Thank the gods there was no wind. In a few more days, our daylight begins to increase in minute amounts. We won’t notice for several weeks.
My obtuse humour is ever-present. A few days ago, while bent to my work I came up with the name of an ancient village. I’ve already invented a community named Klem-Three which is a few miles up the coast from Klemtu. Now I’ve decided that Shearwater is sitting on an ancient site once named Iwannasayphukit. I don’t know what brought on its demise, but there’s still a feeling about the place. Everyone leaves. At this time of year, the name makes perfect sense.
I wish everyone a wonderful Christmas however you celebrate it. May all have someone to love, something to do, and something to look forward to. And…BUMHUG!
“ The main reason Santa is so jolly is that he knows where all the bad girls live.”
… George Carlin