I don’t know if I’m getting too old or becoming a sour puss or have simply reached such a level of connectivity that I’m completely burned out. I haven’t logged into a messenger in ages because, as soon as I open yahoo, AOL or gchat, even when I do it in invisible mode, 20,000 people that I have no interest in talking to start opening me windows – which annoys me to no end as it takes time away from my writing.
I can’t deal with Facebook anymore. Everyone is asking for money for this or that – from foster parents who adopt more dogs than they can afford and expect other people to “chip in” to feed them, to people asking for money for their medical/dental procedures while bumping up the cost (what about me? who is going to pay for my dental treatment at NYU? who is going to pay for my graduate degree?). Everyone is sharing pictures of the first communion of the daughter of a twice removed cousin or their dying sibling in a third world country’s hospital room. Everyone is unemployed or on disability, bitching about not making ends meet, but then posting pictures of their uber posh groceries (I’ve been unemployed and, let me tell you, I wasn’t ordering Voss water by the case). Everyone is oversharing – do what you want on your wall but don’t tag me on every status update or every photo because I don’t need everyone to know my business (a couple of times I’ve been with friends who posted our every move, the only thing they didn’t share were my trips to the ladies room). Then we have (a) the wannabe-writers posting poems written by other people who get offended when you discreetly remind them that you can google anything these days and see who has written what they posted as theirs, (b) the butches who change their relationships status to “just met the love of my life” every 2 freaking weeks, (c) the holier-than-thou wannabe-femmes who say they’re interested in men on their About tab because (while not in the closet) God forbid someone might find out they are living with a butch, (d) the happily partnered butch posting sappy messages on her femme’s wall while trying to get in my pants, (e) and the butch/femme couples who fight, break up, make up, fight, break up again… At some point the proverbial popcorn goes stale and I don’t want to be bothered anymore.
I can’t deal with twitter… I used to tweet a lot, met good people, made great friends, but I quit cold turkey a year or so ago because I felt overexposed as I was sharing waaaaaay too much information. Creepy butches were taking advantage of those TMI tweets to turn up at places I was with my friends (exactly the same reason why I stopped RSVPing for events on Facebook). These days I use twitter (@pdalfileres & @afemmeinnyc) for cyber-activism and shameless self-promotion, but not much more. I’d rather focus on real life.
I can’t deal with WhatsApp. The only reason I downloaded it is because my mother has finally joined the 21st century upgrading her cell phone and WhatsApp saves me a weekly call and her “you don’t call, you don’t write” Jewish-mother-guilt-trips.
I hate, hate, hate my iPhone. I’m a blackberry girl at heart who had no other choice than choosing an iPhone when it was time to renew her AT&T contract.
Getting old… Being a sour puss and not knowing it yet… I don’t know why I can’t deal with technology these days. I spend a good 8 to 11 hours in front of a computer or on the phone with clients during the day. When I leave my office, what I need is to disconnect from everything. Relax. Read a book or a magazine. Go to the gym. Hang out with my friends. Watch something good on TV or Netflix. See fotw. Or spend quality time with my magic wand. In complete silence.