A Month off Facebook

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After a month off Facebook, here’s what I’ve missed and not missed.

I miss:

People I barely knew being involved in my life. Because I’m an author, a lot of people I had never met but who read my books friended me. We kept up casually, oh so casually. There would be an occasional comment on a cat picture, a like for something I’d crocheted or canned, a laugh at the picture of me falling in mud. I miss the casual camaraderie of people I only knew because they read my books and decided they liked me.

Getting advice. I know a thousand people who are smart and savvy experts at something, often something obscure. I miss hopping online to ask “Is it okay to do the stitches backwards when you’re edging the blanket” or “what columns should a household budget have” or even “does this look like poison ivy to you?”  While there is a website response to every query put into a search engine, I miss the voices of people familiar to me, ones I trust not to steer me astray. That little blue star appearing in query responses now gives me the heebeejeebies. Its advice is just flat WRONG half the time, and in some cases that could result in blowing one’s house up (clearing a gas line; how long to pressure can meat). Ain’t listening to the little blue star; I miss those thousand or so smart, sensible friends.

Ironically, I also miss GIVING advice. I’m good at some specific things, but here in Wytheville where we know hardly anyone, people don’t ask me about radio reporting/storytelling/writing/canning/crocheting/swimming/foraging/homesteading/cats.

Where’s Wendy? I thought this was a dumb game I played because travel took me so many places where there were pretty pictures to be taken. Turns out, it grounded me back to my home base. When I traveled, it made me feel like people cared where I was; plus it was silly clean fun. A lot of weight for a small game, but there it is. I miss that.

I do not miss:

What I’m eating pictures. Most of my friends are foodies. Sometimes I got good ideas from them. Mostly I just had greens envy.

Feet pictures. For some reason, every time someone gets hurt, they post these pics online. It stands to reason we injure our feet more than other parts of us, given their suboptimal working conditions and general lack of care in our society. But yeesh. I don’t want to see your naked feet unless I’m teaching you to swim, kay, thanks. Now you know.

People talking politics in punchlines. I love a good political debate with a well-informed friend who challenges my thinking. I have a fair few friends who fall into this category, and I look forward to seeing them in person more now, because my ears are not full of the white noise from online memes and punditry. Savoring a good conversation has become an art form, but it’s almost weird to ask friends to Zoom with you just to see each other because, hey, you know, we have social media for that. We don’t have to be intentional. Do we?

People I barely know getting involved in my life. Yes, I know. While I miss the casual, friendly reader who decided they liked me, I don’t miss the friends of friends who showed up to yell that I am part of the Great Evil because a) I don’t attend an evangelical church (we are Quakers) b) I don’t agree with all the parts of all the scripts of the political party I align with (“BUT HOW CAN YOU DENY THE RIGHTS OF…”) I do not miss the virtue signalers convinced that dismantling unjust systems means only those who deserve to will get hurt. Ha.

Reels. You suck, Zuck. Great timewasters of unsafe viewing; some of those “animal rescue” videos are pure evil.

Doomscrolling. I’m astonished, absolutely astonished, at having enough time to learn a new pattern, write the notes for the last chapter, try a new recipe, learn why carrots and cauliflower should be planted near each other, research writing grants at the end of the day. I always told myself I was too tired, too emotionally and intellectually drained to start something new after dinner. Ha. New life, new fun, new ideas, new ways to pursue old interests. The time I’ve gotten back is indescribable, and I don’t want to sound like someone who is encouraging others. We all make our own decisions. Just, don’t let anyone tell you the time is not real, when you get it back. It’s amazing. And fun.

More things to talk about later, but here it is a month in: no regrets. Not even the advice. :]

White Noise

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I’ve been talking with a few friends about Mexico, and it’s interesting. My sister and her husband work with some people who came to the States in order to escape cartel violence. Other friends mentioned cartels as well.

I used to teach Cultural Geography and one of my favorite exercises was to ask students to write down a country, then write down five things they knew were true about that country. They liked this: showing their own expertise.

Then I asked them to explain why they knew each of those things. Their faces would fall. “What do you mean how do we know it,” one of them would inevitably say. “It’s, like, common knowledge. Everybody knows Russia is always cold.”

Slowly, inexorably, through a process that had some of them rolling their eyes and others looking thoughtful, we peeled back the layers of movies, parental attitudes, and casual news snippets that had formed their “certain knowledge.” (College students aren’t big on news; they tend to be the core around which their own world turns so any important info emanates from them.) And they began to recognize, at least the smart ones did, how little of what they knew was based on either direct experience, or actual verifiable information.

There’s a metaphor in there for the age of disinformation white noise we are in, and the fact that the volume will go up to 11 on Monday, but let’s go back to those Mexican cartels. One per square foot across the country, right?

Wrong. It’s not that they are not there, it’s that they are not everywhere, controlling everything, any more than we are a nation of nude beaches bent on pulling all young men into corrupt lives (waves cheerfully to Iran). If we want to believe of other nations the propaganda that our nation (or a few allies) have put out about it, we might be, you know, easy to manipulate.

Just thinking out loud here, folks. No biggie.