Foosebook

I'm addicted to Facebook (a.k.a. Foosebook). I am, and admitting that is the first step in recovery. I have a love/hate relationship with the Book of Face, as I've heard some friends call it. Smart phones, specifically my iPhone, have fueled my relationship with the site. Subsequently I also have a love/hate relationship with it, too. There are days I am tempted to go off the grid, but we'll save that for another post. Thanks to the society of instant gratification that we live in, I was probably checking FB 6-10 times a day. WHY? Because I could. Because it was there. One tap of my fingertip to the smooth face of my smart phone and there I was again, peering into the lives of whoever posted what they wanted people to read. My visits were never long, but they were most definitely frequent. If that were all there was to it, I guess it would be fine. Except things are rarely that simple. When you tap an app on your phone 6-10 times a day it begins cutting into your time at work, the attention you pay your family and pets, you become less of a considerate driver. The site was getting time that I didn't even have to give.

As most people do in the new year, I made a resolution. I will check FB one time a day M-Sa, not at all on Su. I've done well with not at all on Sunday, but ironically I struggle with the once daily M-Sa. Again, things rarely being simple, this resolution ties in with my recovering spirituality. To be blunt, the Spirit has prompted me to rid my life of the superfluous. The unnecessary things that have made their way into my everyday life were distracting from, ARE distracting from, my potential as a human being on this earth. And what potential am I speaking of? Family. Relationships. I wish to give those who mean the most to me, the most of me. And how can I do that when what's competing for my time is social networking sites, rag magazines, gossip sites, etc.? So I will make Facebook what I want it to be. A medium to keep family and close friends updated with pictures and information relative to our family. I will use it to keep up with them. I will check it once M-Sa and not at all on Su.

So why blog, some may ask. Well, I'm no Hemingway, but I am a writer. I've written my name on my mother's walls, I've written my own books so I could read them to myself as a child, and today I write as a part of my job. I have to write. I don't know how else to release what's in my head. Some sing, some dance, some take photographs or paint. I write. For years I wrote in journals, and have several finished ones lying around, but despite buying a pretty journal this last time, a pretty book mark, special pens, I have been horrible about writing in it. Losing my writing mojo couldn't have happened at a worst time, either. I have this amazing 2-year-old angel that a few quips in a FB status update just can't cover. For example, for Christmas Ava got some stickers. For anyone who knows where a 2-year-old is developmentally, you know they're into identifying body parts (E.g. bum-bum, eyes, nose, hair, etc.) and so it was no surprise when she put a sticker on Jovi's nub (a.k.a. tail) and says "bum-bum!" Chuckling, I said "yes Ava, you put a sticker on Jovi's bum-bum. Can you put a sticker on Reese's bum-bum, too?" OK people keep in mind that while I know she knows what a bum-bum is, since she had just identified Jovi's bum-bum as his tail I naively assumed she'd do the same with Reese. Wrong! That girl dropped to her knees with a sticker behind Reese and placed it squarely on her rectum. What's worse - it stuck! "Bum-bum!" Yes Ava, bum-bum indeed. Insert heavy sigh, half-grin and eye roll here.

To that end, no pun intended (sorta), it is here that I will be recording everything from my thoughts to the day's events to whatever life rolls out before us. I will not filter myself on here like I do Foosebook. Consider yourself warned. As I find time I plan to redesign the layout, update pictures and more. Stay tuned!