I have joined facebook. Which is weird and very non-anonymous. Non-onymous? It’s like being AT the party, where people can see you from across the room as you’re catching up with your co-worker from your very first big girl job at the mental health center million years ago. And then hey! There’s that guy that worked the night shift at the group home and he wants to know your daughter’s name.
But you know about Facebook. Apparently everyone knew about Facebook except me.
It’s overwhelming, the activity level and the live action of facebooking. I feel like I’m playing whack-a-mole, monitoring all this action. I mean, yeah, I had a myspace, and yeah, I started this blog there, but it felt a little more “yearbook” and a little less “Reunion,” if that makes sense to you. I’m used to a different level of anonymity when I go about my business here on the internets.
I know, you’re all like, “Whatever, not only do I know where you live, I have used your bathroom.” And now I’m all like, “oh geez, sorry, was there underwear on the floor?”