Facebooked

Well, it finally happened. I was clinging to the edge of the Facebook cliff, looking for every reason to hang on. I really did enjoy using the platform. I liked staying in loose contact with a whole host of people that I don’t see on my day-to-day ramblings around town. Whose kids are graduating from high school, who is traveling to Italy, who is getting engaged? Those sorts of things.

But the Facebook B.S. just kept rolling and I finally had to pull the plug. Beyond the shenanigans of Facebook’s C-suite of decision makers, here’s the thing that bothered me the most about Facebook: it forced me to communicate in the same way to my co-workers as I would to my Mom as I would to my kids’ friends as I would to my college roommates. That’s silly. And unnatural. Each of those populations needs and deserves its own dialect and tone. Will this site solve that problem? Probably not, but at least I can deal with those issues and not have to worry about how complicit I am in Facebook’s latest round of moral shortcomings. I don’t like to worry and there are enough things in this world to worry about that are outside my control that it strikes me as somewhat reasonable to scratch one — just one! — thing off my list of things to worry about.