I’m left wondering how they manage to get anything done. I also wonder if I’m the big oddball here. For a writer, I spend what seems like such a small amount of time hanging out on Facebook.
I check in first thing in the morning with my morning cuppa. I’m back right after lunch with my midday cuppa. Then post-dinner cuppa. After the kid’s in bed, I take one more look around. Just to catch up and see what, if anything, I need to respond to. Once that’s done, I’m outta there. I’m a hit-and-run Facebook user. Wham, bam, thank you spam. I’m in quickly and out even quicker.
I often wonder what people think when I post something or reply to a message and they get right back to me. Then I don’t respond for several hours, because Tracy has already left the F-book. I hope they don’t think I’m being rude. It’s just that I’ve got stuff to do, you know? That writing thing, in fact. Nobeks in particular get cranky and stop talking to me if they don’t get tons of attention. Imdikos pout. And Dramoks...well, you never keep a control freak Dramok waiting for anything.
Sure, the memes are fun to read. The autocorrects make me cry from laughing so hard. And touching base with my friends and readers is the main reason I sign on. Yet I don’t see the appeal of hanging out and watching the newsfeed for hours on end or showing up every few minutes to check on it. If I spend half an hour at a time on FB, I’m really indulging in it. This is not a stab at those who enjoy Facebook, by the way. If you’re on social media, then I feel I can safely assume you’re not committing war, hosing down grandmas, or eating puppies. Carnage and chaos is at a minimum, so it’s all good. Carry on and enjoy yourselves.
I acknowledge that I’m not the most social creature in the world. I hate talking on the phone, I find texting a monstrous headache, and don’t get me started about going to a crowded party. Even my closest friends and family can go for ages without hearing a peep from me if they’re not on Facebook. Once in a great while I’ll have a few days or weeks of being a social butterfly with one or two people...then I’m back in the writing cave, being a hermit again. Don’t ask me why; it’s apparently just the way I am. I seem to be missing the gregarious gene in my DNA.
Facebook is as close as I get to a lot of interaction. As I’ve described, it’s a limited thing. Even the small amount of time I’m on there, I’m lurking more than anything else. So again I have to ask – is it just me? What is the attraction for everyone else that they can spend ages on that site? Especially the writers, who can easily fritter away precious writing time? What am I missing out on?
Anyway, if you want to enlighten me on that matter, I’ll be back to check in a few hours. Meanwhile, I’m back to the writing cave. I’ve got work to do. But first, here’s a cute cat picture (just so I can pretend I’m part of the gang):