Back in the 1990s, scholars started calling the contradiction between an increased opportunity to connect and a lack of human contact the “Internet paradox.” --Stephen Marche, The Atlantic
I love Facebook. I love the way it's gathered friends of mine from all age groups and parts of my life and points on the globe and given me a window into their lives, their vacation and family pictures, their interests and even the unfolding of their days, whenever I care to have a look--which is pretty often, by which I mean daily pretty much and often more, even if I snark sometimes about oversharing, even if I overshare. But I am going to cut back, drastically, I hope.
I know that the statement above isn't news, exactly, but it hit me as a truth I need to act upon if only because it so neatly encapsulated what I've been saying less neatly for years about having loved to write letters, then loved to write emails, then loved this blog, then needed to make time to make phone calls, then preferred texts, then preferred to click the like button next to your name. Because I really do like you.
I'm not sure how successfully I'll be able to wean myself. I'm not sure how it works, if you can really hit rewind and if taking FB out of your days means a space will open up. I'm in the airport on my way home from a visit to a half lifetime ago, where people from a half lifetime ago remember me and hold out their arms and say my name, and what I'm saying is that my self as projected on FB is expendable.