Mark Twain said quitting smoking was easy, he’d done it 17 times. At least I think that’s what he said. I could look it up but I don’t want to. And that’s my problem: I’m getting “clear” with my digital demon. I just plain, flat out, spend too much time online.
This isn’t easy—this business of leaving Facebook. I was a lonesome child. Disability in the fifties and early sixties was a ticket to isolation. For me, Facebook has been a wonderful means of connection to a world of thoughtful and ardent neighbors.
But I confess I can’t control it. I spend hours scrolling up and down and worse, I’ve been posting every inflammatory thing I read as do many of my friends. I’ve come to understand FB as a place in cyberspace where people like me throw open their windows and shout to their neighbors: “I’m mad as Hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!” (If you’re of a certain age you’ll get the movie reference.)
Some days I feel like Dr. Jekyll when I’m on Facebook. I love people. In fact I have a wee bit of Walt Whitman inside me. When I walk on the streets I see strangers and think “there’s another soul” and the idea thrills me. The “Hyde” of FB is its lobster trap effect: I’m locked in with too many wild emotions.
Facebook turns me into Mr. Hyde.
Now you can argue and say something like Eleanor Roosevelt’s famous dictum “no one can make you feel bad about yourself without your permission” (I think that’s what she said. I could look it up…)
Mrs. Roosevelt was right about that. She learned that from her encounters with her mother in law. (Everyone do your own joke.)
But the thing is, you don’t become Mr. Hyde unless you’re too preoccupied with London. Hyde is the dark side of the London Victorian flaneur.
Facebook turns me into a lobster-flaneur very quickly.
I’m sorry Mrs. Roosevelt. Permission is too quaint.
A few months ago I said I was leaving FB and the experiment lasted two days. Then I was back. I didn’t even bother to explain my return. Crustaceans don’t have to explain anything.
You see its the lonely kid in me who doesn’t want to leave social media. He was terribly lonesome. But there’s no help for it. You can be lonely and preserve your essential sweetness I think.
If people on FB who like connecting with me want to write me my non-Facebook email is stevekuusisto@gmail.com
My blog will go on as usual, largely because I receive many notes from disabled people around the world and if being a writer has any merit it may reside only in that we can speak for those who cannot do so for themselves.
I will miss you my fellow lobsters. Drop me a note now and then. Unlike regular fish, lobsters can read.
Planet of the Blind 