Day Eight!

So, I fought with my inner conscience and cravings, and while I desperately urged for some facebook, did not give in.  Hallelujah.

But I really want to.  It's not about the thirty days any more.  I desperately miss writing stupid things on people's walls, posting photos, and commenting on the photos.  Gahhh.

That's about it.  I'm hoping that my cousin's visit will keep me distracted enough.

Day seven... what am I doing here?

I had a good friend nearly beg for my return to Facebook today, with the promise that she'd make sure that I didn't get out of hand again.  This made me contemplate what I'm actually doing here:  yes, I've quit cold turkey, but if I return after a thirty-day hiatus, and return to being just as bad as I was before, was this experiment worth it?  Am I learning anything different about myself that I wouldn't have learned while being on Facebook?  Am I keeping up my promise to myself of using this spare to time to do other fun things?  Not really.  I now blog, I now stalk my pretty much dead Myspace, and I now text more often.  Okay... so I texted a lot before, so I don't think that has changed.  But I'm still spending all of this time not on Facebook, still online, AND missing the opportunity to wish other people Happy Birthdays.  And  I LOVE wishing people celebratory birth wishes.

Perhaps I'll discover what I've been missing.  I guess the question I'm pondering is:  should I have just restricted my facebook use rather than tossing it out the window?  Does this pattern emerge anywhere else in my life (crash, hardcore calorie counting diets with no failure allowed, perhaps?).  Is this a pattern I want to continue?

Day seven.  Hrmph.

Not really interesting...

Nothing really to report here on Day 6.  I had the general cravings... and I actually had a friend call me in the wee hours of the morn’ (close to midnight, I believe) to report the comments that followed my new ex’s facebook status of our break-up.  For some reason people feel that I still need to be connected to this world, although it was my choice not to be.  They seem determined to keep me updated, either by reading posts via phone or telling me in person.  Very funny.  Though, I must say, the comments were quite delightful.

Day five... I may not go back.

It may be rather early in the game, but I'm quite happy without the book of faces.  I had a discussion with a friend last night about how addictive the social networking site really is, and how it's even worse for those who can access it on their phones.  The iPhone makes it all too easy to check it daily, hourly, every twenty minutes... etc.  We talked about how often we checked it (well, how I used to check mine) and he admitted that he probably couldn't give it up for even a week.

Makes me feel pretty good.  I really may not go back.  It doesn't bother me not knowing what other people are doing every minute of the day, and it doesn't bug me that they don't know what I'm doing.

I really am going to have to get an online album, though.

Day four... feeling good.

When life gives me lemons, I promptly slice the lemon and stick a quarter in my mouth, grin as though the peel were my teeth, and suck the sourness out of the fruit until all that remains are the rinds and that slimy, acidic taste on my chomps. “Simplify, simplify, simplify,” chants the author who preached a great word to many about living independently and then went home for dinner and cookies at his mother’s house. Granted... I love my mother’s dinner, and I love cookies. I just don’t preach simplicity... except in lemon rinds. My point in this: my simplified, free from Facebook life, plus the idea of a random adventure tomorrow equal one very happy, lemon-sucking womanchild. If life were my lemon, I’d quarter it and share it with as many friends as possible. And then I’d go home, eat dinner at mumsy’s, and bake cookies. That’s how I’m feeling about life currently.
Day four without Facebook is glorious. My co-worker and dear friend has launched the threat that I either return to Facebook or risk my mother getting friended. I told him to go ahead and friend my mama, she’ll like it. More status updates. I do miss being able to share photos, so I may create one of those free online albums. That way people can still enjoy the photos and take from them what they will. I’ll loophole a ladder into social networking; I just won’t call it Facebook. I also find that my iPhone battery lives a lot longer without me using the Facebook application nonstop: ultimately giving me more bang for my charge. Other news: I have I purple hair. Granted, the box said “black cherry.” In certain lights, black cherry is what it is. The woman who cut my hair called it “eggplant.” I like it. Sometimes it looks red. Sometimes it looks like I sucked a little too hard on a purple popsicle and the color shot up my roots like trees pulling moisture from the ground. Despite the mixed feelings from my mother, I like it. If I stop liking it, I’ll get a buzz cut. Simple. Hair is hair. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

I apologize for the scowling appearance.  When my face relaxes it gives the impression that I'm frowning.  It was post work, I was tired, sleep deprived, and just wanted a decent picture to demonstrate color.  But hey, sort of looks black cherry in this lighting!  Woot.

Day 3 done and a pamphlet under wing

Minutes ago I finished completing the dry, painstaking pamphlet for my father. I managed to ignore the temptation of signing on to Facebook and scatter the social network with irked status updates and whiney wall posts.

I have to say, still at this point, the most irksome thing about not having facebook is not that I don't know what people are doing, but that still that my friends feel that I'm more likely to unfriend them than delete the beast. Sheesh. Was I really that much on addict? Probably.

I've had two requests to join up again, but I'm sticking through this sludge. It's quite freeing to know that only those who know me well or who care to ask know what I'm doing. Sometimes I just don't feel like sharing. As for not knowing what my friends are doing: well, that's a little irksome. But mayhaps I should just pick up the phone and inquire in person.

I am now off to get a hair cut - I am beginning to resemble a sheep dog... except less cute and drooly. Okay, maybe just less cute.

The first real struggle

I'm sitting here, attempting to edit this extraordinarily boring piece of pamphlet for an organization my father is part of (and which he volunteered me to do it before I agreed), and I’ve realized that I am now facing my first real anti-face struggle.

In the past, when I tried to delve into writing or editing, I'd open the word processor and type a few craptastic sentences, and then open the web browser and play on Facebook until I figured out which direction to take with my paper. Through this venture, I’d learn which other classmates were doing the same thing I was as I was via status updates, and in return leave panicked wall posts about not doing the work. I’d read what I could be doing and the fun I could be having if I would just finish the damned paper/project that I’m not working on. Sense the pattern? It was sort of a motivational and joint support group for procrastinators. Le sigh.

NO FACEBOOK. So I turn to blogging, not only because it’s helping to loosen my fingers, but because this is a prime example of me needing the Facebook. Gah.

And now I sit, staring at boring, almost unreadable pamphlet full of confusing history with no chronological sequence, contemplating an additional cup of coffee and a frozen Reese’s peanut butter egg.