I have 923 friends on facebook. That is ridiculous.
I can’t even fathom the fact that I’ve met 923 people. I don’t even really like people that much. I’m pretty awkward and anti-social.
Yes, I understand the irony.
One day, I went facebook crazy. Yes, it’s a thing. I went through every single one of my friends and made the decision that if I couldn’t remember them within seconds, they were getting deleted. I delete people off of facebook like they are getting wiped off the planet. Well technically, they are. They’re getting wiped off my planet. This seemed like such a great idea, until I realized…
I have great memory.
I remembered meeting every person. I even remembered the conversations we had, and sometimes, what I wore that day. At the end of my little mission to cleanse my life through the elimination of “online friends,” I had only deleted five people (who I later remembered—insane.) Three of the five ended up re-adding me on facebook. (I think people may find me interesting.) I then had the brilliant idea to deactivate my current facebook and create another facebook account. It was my way of starting over and keeping my facebook as intimate as I could. I decided to use my alter ego’s name, Scarlett, and only add my close friends. Obviously when one is feeling overwhelmed by social networking, the logical thing to do is create yet another site.
That proved to be a tad problematic.
I’m good at staying connected to people so my definition of “close friends” got a little hazy. Facebook also became boring for me. I couldn’t log on and creep on the people I am no longer close with, yet still find incredibly entertaining (in a they are so outrageous kind-of-way). I received friend requests from all the same people. They figured out my genius plan and realized it was me. THERE WAS NO ESCAPE. Facebook is a black hole.
So, I ignored all my friend requests. Reactivated my old facebook. Actively kept both. Mixed them up. Got messages of confusion from people. And, it only took two weeks for me to go OUT OF MY MIND.
I then wiped Scarlett off my planet.
I realized that facebook is not an accurate depiction of who I am. Facebook is my source of entertainment. I’s not a private sanctuary. I don’t post revolutionary epiphanies. I don’t need it to be a personal sphere. I log on to waste time, submerge myself in other people’s lives and stay connected with friends I know longer see on a daily basis. I realized I can be private—even with 923 friends. Facebook isn’t truthful. We manipulate facebook to meet our goals of how we want to be perceived. Everyone tries to look perfect on facebook.
I am less like myself on facebook than any other social networking site I use.
I never consciously think of how other people may perceive me through my facebook. I think this is because I am never truly myself on facebook anyways. I don’t mind people judging the false persona that I put out there. This can be seen through my profile pictures. All of my pictures are of me smiling insincerely from the same “flattering” angle. There is just one candid picture where I am turned away from the camera. On the surface, I may come off as a bit superficial. No one is happy all the time, and I certainly am not. I’m an open book with people I trust, but pretty closed off otherwise. These pictures reflect that. I want the facebook world to only see that one side of me.
Nonetheless, if anyone took the time to delve a little deeper into my site, they would realize that I’m all sorts of ridiculous. I try to put up a composed front, but I’m terrible at it.
I’m a little obsessed with my family. My siblings joke that I love them significantly more than they love me. (But it’s not a joke.) It’s in my nature to care about people too much. I’ve taken over my siblings’ facebooks through obnoxious wall posts, pictures and comments. In fact, I’m more inclined to be myself on my family’s facebooks, than I am on my own. My true personality comes out through my interactions with other people. I usually will only post statuses on days where I am unusually happy or unusually irritated about some sort of human rights issue. I do not perceive my facebook as a pitiful diary. (Believe me, these harsh words reflect lots of judgement.)
Besides my one active facebook and my sad dormant facebook (RIP Scarlett), I have a twitter. I also now maintain this blog.
My twitter username is my first and last name. I feel like that somehow makes me less inclined to go crazy. On twitter, I mostly indulge in health and fitness articles, celebrity gossip and guilty pleasures. I am obsessed with nutrition. I love soccer. I have a girl crush on Hope Solo. But, I tend to follow many political newscasters that I should ideally be interested it—and I do my best to maintain this interest by refusing to “unfollow” these people. The truth is, I usually gloss over their tweets without an ounce of interest. I remain a follower because I want people to believe I use twitter for academic reasons as well. It’s all a lie. I won’t tweet everything I want to because of the people who “follow me.” I am instead the queen of re-tweets. For this reason, my twitter isn’t an accurate depiction of me. I am too shy on twitter and fearful of being judged. And, let’s be real, I could never fully express myself in 140 characters or less.
This blog is probably the only place where my true self is fully revealed. I wish I started a blog years ago. I don’t believe that facebook or twitter permits this amount of creativity. There are too many restrictions.
I have no filter when I write. I’m a little crazy. I think I do a good job of presenting that here. I am passionate; it is my greatest vice and highest virtue. All this white space allows me to express every aspect of that passion. Writing is personal. I write for myself. But, I am comfortable with people reading about my personal revelations. I am comfortable with the vulnerability and the potential judgment because I know that I am being true to myself. I’m comfortable being me. Although I still choose to use the pseudonym missjasmine. Go figure.
I am a free-spirited, insecure and quirky gal. I hope this blog reflects that.
Oh, and by the way, I really love the word shenanigans.
I think I just may post that on facebook. I really hope my 924 friends enjoy it (just accepted a friend request). Look at me go.