Another weekend, another couple hours on Facebook … yes?
Actually, I wasn’t able to spend much time on Facebook this week or this weekend, and I was surprised at how much guilt I felt. I received an “out of office” pingback from a girlfriend, in fact, and when I hurriedly sent a different e-mail to her home to ask about her absence (her pingback mentioned surgery), she said “Check out my Facebook page for details. …” Gulp. (As in “You obviously haven’t been reading my Facebook page.”) More guilt. Am I supposed to be reading it every night? I got on Facebook to have a little fun, but now I’m wondering if signing up is sort of like signing a contract to spend at least a half an hour on it per day. Or else you might get Superpoked.
If Twitter is the great big networking cocktail party (where you stand around swirling your Manhattan, looking for someone to introduce yourself to), surely Facebook is the raucous Christmas party in your family’s home basement, no? It’s the casual-sweater-wearing crowd, where everyone is sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, passing photos up and down the line.
At first, I really liked this casualness. I loved getting in touch with old friends, and I loved looking at everyone’s pictures. Continue reading