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Monday, July 27, 2009

They Don't Call It Facebook for Nothing

I'm on facebook again.

Yeah. I don't know why. It's deep, people. It's cosmic, this thing. It comes from some primal part of my brain, from the darkest parts, from that part of me that doesn't really want to go to the party, but goes absolutely apeshit if I'm not invited.

So I have to be a part of this thing called Facebook and I don't really know why, but I decided that, if nothing else at all, it's a good psychological exercise because of my privacy issues that at times have bordered on the insane.

See, I figure that if you're like me, a person who is borderline obsessively scary head-unscrewing, rocking/cutting/sitting alone in the dark-hurting-animals-crazyass private, there is no way in the world you can be yourself, mostly because there are only a very few people in the world you feel comfy being yourself around, so to most people you come across like someone who is so dull others would rather throw themselves off very high places after sticking knives in their faces rather than engage in a conversation with you not very popular. You're so busy protecting your privacy and all that that no one really wants to be around you and who can blame them really?

So anyway, that's why I got back on Facebook. I did it for you guys.

And now I'm absolutely hooked. I just love looking people up and realizing that (a) damn it I'm so freaking old, (b) a lot of people of my age don't use the internet much and/or are in the Witness Protection Program (c) some people really look good for their age because they haven't changed much, but these people were the ones that looked 50 when they were 24 so it really doesn't count, and (d) - well, that's it. We'll stick with three observations for now.

Most people say to me "Wow, Janine you look happy!" and I say "thank you" but what I'm really thinking is what the fuck did I look like before???? Holy shit, all this time I thought I looked ok but in reality I must have had this absolutely horrific angry face on all the time. And I'm Irish and if the Irish don't make a point to constantly smile we look like we don't have any lips, so now I'm thinking I've spent most of my life without lips and that explains why my first husband always wanted me to get collagen injections (but I said no way cuz I'd look like Bernadette Peters for sure or Betty Boop) and the thing is? He was partly responsible for my lip-lackage so I suppose it would have been fitting that he'd spring for the collagen treatments, but still. I must have looked hideous.

So now I want to hunt down everyone from my past who might have thought that the face I used to wear (the one without lips) was my real face and I want to show them my real face so they don't go the rest of their lives remembering me as that sad looking lipless girl.

So, anyway. That's what I'm doing these days. Finding people so I can set them straight about me once and for all.

This could take a while.

2 comments:

  1. Facebook is Internet crack. Oh, and I find it is always the people I want nothing to do with that talk to me the most... It's just like life.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Libby - oh yeah. Already discovered that one! Some relative of a friend found me. The exact person both my friend and I (per her advice) stay very clear of at parties.

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