Somehow “Yearbook” Doesn’t Have The Same Ring To It

Okay.  Confession time:  I’ve been spending a little more time on Facebook that I should.

Maybe more time than is seemly for a matron of my age.

Way too much time– mostly spent warding off zombie attacks and throwing  stuff at people with SuperPoke!

Yes… it is inevtable: Facebook is yet another thing in my life that will get the label of "evil" while at the same time completely holding me in thrall.

It’s innocent enough to toss those sheep and cows around and take tests to see just how well you’d get along with a friend during a movie-watching slumber party (if any such a one is still had by people working hard on their fourth decade of life), and there are mirthful little groups such as the "I Flip My Pillow Over To Get To The Cold Side" group; one that charmed we with its wordy yet heartfelt and I’m-not-a-weirdo premise.

But then you start looking for people you knew.  In The Past.

Not just the "oh yeah, it’s been a couple of years, how ya doin’?" past.  I mean THE Past.

As in the people that time has either erased completely, only to bring them forth out of the shadows as you see them, arms draped over unknowns or holding bridesmaids’ bouquets or doing any number of poses ranging from the candid, through the innocuous, and arriving grandly at the "total tool" denomination; or others whose faces, names, and actions live in your constant memory for better or worse.

You know that they can no longer hold sway over your emotions or hurt you or even hug you or make you laugh, but there is still that weird feeling that somehow they know you’re looking at their profile.

The shifty glances around and the heart beating faster give way,  in the theoretical privacy of your living room,
to the rationalizations that are inevitable:

* People do grow up and apart.
* The past only comes back to haunt you if you let it.
* Flying livestock is still fun.
* He who pokes last wins.

Happy Monday, all!

(Want to add me so I can toss a cow at you?  Please shoot me an email so I know you’re not a creepy weirdo who wants to slash my throat.)

(Or, well, you know… *specifically* one who wants to bodily harm me.  All you other creepy weirdoes who are already my friends need not fear)

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This entry was published on September 24, 2007 at 4:43 pm and is filed under Pop Culture. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

6 thoughts on “Somehow “Yearbook” Doesn’t Have The Same Ring To It

  1. pokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepokepoke

  2. My sister just looked up an ole flame. He is now a millionaire living in Arizona (her favorite state) who owns his own Fortune 500 company. She left him for a hippie who looked like Jesus who now owes her 15,000 in back child support. Boy did she bet on the wrong horse. πŸ™‚

  3. i’m definitely guilty of looking up old flames but i’ve never tried facebook for that. you just gave me a good idea.
    scratch that. i probably shouldn’t be opening up old wounds. stupid boys!
    anyhoo, i’ve thoroughly enjoyed our superpoke war! πŸ™‚

  4. Hmmmm, I’ve only delved into MySpace, not Facebook. Not sure I dare try any more distractions! πŸ˜‰ But I’ll look you up if I change my mind!

  5. I totally get that feeling that other people can see you looking up their profiles. I have the same feeling when I google people, too (which I do because I really am a creepy weirdo stalker person, I guess).

  6. Ok, it is weird that you wrote about this today of all days, when suddenly people from my class in highschool started friending me on Facebook.

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