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Monday, April 12, 2010

My Fabulous Facebook Life


"I have Facebook, Friendster and I have my very own blog," said an acquaintance of mine. “And by the way, do you have a Twitter account? I do. You should have at least one of these," she added with a smile plastered on her face as if she had decoded the Dead Sea Scrolls and she was about to deliver me from sin. It seems that you do not matter these days if you do not have a least one of these new Internet marvel of cyber human interconnectivity.

So why do we flock to Facebook like virus in heat? Some of us have legitimate reasons to be there. After all, Facebook is just another medium to be used, abused and reinvented. Facebook and the like have made some of us closer to our loved ones and it has tightened our bond with them. Some of us have discovered lost loves and have rekindled old friendships and by the grace of deities, bless them, please. However, this is Dorothy Parker's chair and pleasantries sit here expecting a silver needle ready to puncture the ass.

We have Facebook, Friendster, Twitter and blogs because we want to show everyone, especially our friends, and our friends' friends and casual “invisible faceless” acquaintances that we have better lives than them. We have better experiences than them. We have met more “important, interesting and beautiful” people than them. We travelled more than them. We have gone to more places than them or if we have not travelled that much, we have better families than them. We experienced deeper grief than them. The sum of it is that “we are more attractive and more interesting than they will ever be.” Yes, children, this is the true reason, if, if we are brutally honest enough to admit to ourselves. It is one of the most wickedly ugly truths of the Internet age. One day grace period of denial is hereby granted. Let it sink in. To add, if we stare long enough at the Medusa eyes of truth, they will not turn us into stones but it will actually transform us into gorgeous gorgons. We too become Medusas and we live, feel and understand the irony of her existence. WTF was that?

But I digress.

Remember when visitors came to your house, and your parents "innocently" show your pictures to your unsuspecting guests; your parents saying this and that about you, showing this and that. Your mom is actually the precursor to Facebook, except she is not digitized in cyberspace and tagging photos was simply not in her list of motherly repertoire, but perhaps I am being sexist for using mothers as examples. Unfortunately, in my generation, (and perhaps still true today), men were too busy being drunks, or too busy dipping their willies in other women's woo woos to engage in early parental spin doctoring of their offspring.
                                                                
The reason why our parents bragged about our juvenile achievements and they enumerated our Herculean de faux tasks was (and is) because our parents wanted to show other parents that they make better babies.

Now back to the contemporary terra firma, to be honest, who really cares if you made penne arriabiata in your little soiree last Saturday, unless you invited me in your lovely little sweet soiree and by some force of nature, a twist of fate, and the whims of the Furies, I failed to show up and so you recounting what I missed would be tolerably acceptable. But other than that, your arriabiata twit is about as useful to people as Britney Spears' voice or Ruffa Gutierrez' acting.

On the other hand, I do have a Facebook account so that makes me one of you, and proudly like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, I say "Yes, I am one of you." Call me “Happy Hypocrite.” So expect my penne arriabiata to pop in one of these days in your twitters. I could save myself by saying, ah, never mind, salvation is overrated and when you sit on Dorothy Parker's chair, you're long pass saving.

And yes, I am aware of the irony that I am using a blog to slam some other blogs, Facebook and the rest. This statement by the way is a rephrasing of Sideshow Bob's statement that he made in "The Simpsons." It is not my original work.

Now, the question is why did I write this little ole piece? Well, of course, to help a awaken people from the state of internet-driven delusions, really. I am the self-proclaimed Dalai Lama of the Internet…  Okay, I wrote this because I want to show that I can write better essays than you. So sue me, like you have time to read this.

What!? You finished reading this essay? Get a life!


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This piece was first published in my literary blog for the column "I Sit on Dorothy Parker's Chair" on April 12, 2010. Minor revisions were done on October 9, 2011. 



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