Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Stand! In the End You'll Still Be You.

Nothing to report in the food world. Made a cute BLT on thin bread. Actually had success on some small fried potatoes. But in the food world, that is just what it is, small potatoes. Been in the cyber world recently, had to develop a Facebook account for P's music. Ended up in a blast from the past blackout. Ended up looking up every living soul I knew and found quite a few, including my 80 year old uncle. Cousins and their families, old friends, teachers, people at work, people from old work places, people from my home town, people's kids. Holy crap it never ends! Its a black hole. You can waste your whole life. And the bad part is that now I feel I need to keep going back to that place. Like it was magical or something. A place where I could look but I didn't have to speak, my ideal. I have the fever now. I desire to interact in this odd way. I want to 'poke' people and say hey. I want to upload a ton of pics. I want to see my timeline and post my favorite movies and music. What the hell is wrong with me?!

But why? Why do I feel the draw to do these ridiculous things? I talk to my close friends via phone and email, in-person. Most of them are not on Facebook. And that is a very tiny 'group' mind you. I don't have 187 friends. I don't want 187 people to see what I'm up to. I take great steps to hide my comings and goings even though 99.9 percent of the population could care less. So what is it that compels me to step into this fabricated banquet hall of mingling. Am I seeking God? Am I looking for acknowledgement? Acceptance? Human contact? Probably all of the above but that's not it.

Do I fear dying like a tree in the empty forest? Yes! I'm afraid of dying and I'm seeking some proof that I do exist or have existed. If I make a Facebook profile than surely I have lived. Its all right there in lit up black and white. I was born, I moved, I have friends, I have photographic proof that good times were had. Maybe they shouldn't be called friends, but instead witnesses. I would gladly take 187 witnesses at my funeral, all with their little blue thumbs up.


Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?