Why I Don't 'Like' You

When I say I don't 'like' you, I'm not taking about your face or clothes, the morals you have or your outlook on life. I'm talking about Facebook. A little while ago, I stopped 'liking' things on the old Face-Place. There were a couple of reasons as to why, but the main one is how lazy it seemed to be getting. I realized no one was really taking the time to interact with others anymore and, when I looked at my feed, there were hundreds of posts with a couple of  likes and no comments on them.

This brought me to the question - where is the social part of all this networking?

People were posting, but no one was responding. A little put off, I started thinking about how everyone was living in the moment, but no one was paying attention. Here we are with instant access to one another, hundreds of posts from our nearest and dearest being created every single day, but no one is actually interested in what's being said. Or, if they are, they certainly aren't vocalizing it. Instead of commenting, people were pressing the like button and walking away - myself included.

This is when I got to thinking - did everyone actually like what they were liking?

The answer is, in my humblest opinion, no. I certainly didn't. In fact, I didn't like or hate a vast amount of the stuff I was hitting the thumbs-up for. For the most part, I straddled the line of indifference. Sure, there were one or two posts I enjoyed and connected with, but when I sat back and started taking notice of what people were posting the majority of it appeared to be nothing more than a distraction. Fluff. Unimportant noise. Nonsense.

Please don't take this as me looking down on your posts. Everyone loves a good bit of fluff now and again, but too much of it can seriously get in the way of your focus, drive and production. I mean, I'd click on a link and find myself in a YouTube vortex of music and prank videos, or on the never-ending chain of quirky blogs or reading up on what the cast of Bring It On looks like today. Things no one needs to know.

So, why was I liking all this crap? For some, I wanted to stay connected to the person posting. Like it was a way of saying 'Hey, I'm still here. I'm paying attention'. In other instances, I accidentally hit it and felt rude to remove my like. And then there were those times when I 'liked' something just for the sake of liking it. Oh, you made that lasagna from scratch, let me like it so your hard work doesn't go to waste. Strange, right?

Well, I stopped 'liking' things. Actually, I started boycotting the 'like' function altogether. There were a good couple of months where I didn't 'like' a single thing. To be honest, it was liberating. I didn't feel as if I HAD to like things anymore. I figured if I didn't have the desire to write a few words (any words) then it wasn't worth a like. And so I started commenting. Some of those comments actually started conversations. They were my opinions and, while they might not all have been profound or noteworthy, they came from me. I was taking the time to actually interact with the people Facebook considered my friends. It didn't matter that sometimes I only wrote one word like 'cute' or 'awesome' because it meant more than an arbitrary like. At least my brain it did.

Social media is a confounding place. I want people to know I am paying attention, listening, and caring. I'm not 'liking' something simply because someone I knew posted it or because I thought the picture on the article was funny. If you're on my friends list and I 'like' something you wrote or posted, then you deserve a couple words from me. At least, that's how I see it. There are all these people running around with hundreds of friends and not interacting with any of them. And that's the kicker, isn't it? We can't possibly keep up with all these people and yet we keep accepting more 'friend requests'. Baffling, right?

It's why the internet can feel so lonely at times.

In the end, what does this all mean? What does it mean if I like you? What does it mean if I don't?

Nothing. Not really. I mean, it might have been my cat walking across my keyboard. Or maybe I think you're super special and we should hold hands and skip.

Just wait for my comment.

My Friend Rebs

This weekend my friend visited me. She's quite lovely. Inside and out. A slender creature of undeniable beauty with a passion for terrible television shows and Young Adult novels.

I took her adventuring. She found driftwood and sea shells. We saw an owl. This was the first time I'd seen an owl and it was amazing, but because I only had my phone camera the picture came out unexceptional. No, really. This is the picture of the owl I saw:

Like I said, unexceptional. I assure you, the actual bird sighting itself was far more exciting.

Anyhow, it meant a lot for Rebs to come over and visit. As some of you may know, I relocated about a year and a half ago, leaving my friends and family on the mainland. I didn't just move for a boy. I came for a change of scenery and to fulfill the undeniable desire I had to leave the city. Even though I am not far from my friends or family, about four hours including a ferry ride, I sometimes feel a bit alone over here. Not lonely, though. Never really lonely.

It's funny how life can get in the way of what's important, like friendships and road trips and eating nachos for dinner. Sometimes all you need is to invest a few days into someone you love. This was my weekend to do so.

We reminisced about our Ireland trip. How we drove to Montana in one day (1281 KM). And road tripped down to San Francisco on a whim. We gossiped about the people we used to work with and the stories we've thought up. Movies were watched. Television critiqued. Tea sipped. Food devoured. Laughter and tears released. And a serious friendship reboot was given.

It's true friendships can end, but the most important ones are always there. Even if you move away. Or don't speak for awhile. When you reconnect, it's just like it always was: awesome.

For The Love Of Fonts

Today my friend Reb Rebs contacted me on Facebook with a very important question. You see, there's this project she's interested in recreating. Of course, she's pinned it to her 'I'm so crafty' board on Pinterest (really, it's the home decor one). The project is totally doable. A couple pieces of driftwood with places painted on them and how many miles away they are. When she does this project she will choose places relevant to her, instead of Nantucket she might pick Tofino, and she will use kilometres, not miles. (Because she's Canadian).

Personally, I'd choose really far away place just for humour's sake, like Weeks Bay in Alabama. Only 4837 KM away.

Back to the very important question and the point of this post. She needed my expertise in deciding what the writing font on the signs was. After much consideration, I went with Calibri, but swiftly changed my mind to Arial. Then, the conversation took an even more nerdy turn. 

Sometimes there is no doubt who your real friends are. 

Over The Pond

As some of you may know, many of my friends are spread out across the world. Some of them are over the pond. These creatures are both foreign and fabulous, a constant source of entertainment, and a link to a realm I've never been before. They will, hopefully, provide shelter and food if I ever decided to travel yonder, which I fully intend to do. I myself have ventured to Ireland, where I met a handful of delightful chaps and one lass. These were people I got to know off a little known writer website of which the name must not be spoken. 

Still, I walked away with some pretty awesome contacts, stellar advice, and a few friendships, if I dare say. In total, I've met twelve people off this writing website. Twelve! I was not raped or murdered on any of these visits or encounters, which just goes to show,  you can actually meet wonderful people on the internet. Maybe this place isn't as scary as everyone has made it out to be? 

Back in 2012, one of the blokes I was chatting with actually came to see me over here. He's a unique brand of awesome, this one. During his short stay in Vancouver, I showed him all the hot spots and even took him to the hole in the wall Mexican restaurant near Gateway Station. What can I say, he was special enough to allow him to feast on a chimichanga the size of his forearm.  

Anyhow, this evening, I got some news from this gent. He's sick. Not flu sick, either. He's legitimately ill. This bothers me for a couple reasons, the obvious being that he isn't feeling well and that sucks. Also, the distance is putting me on edge. So, I have this friendship with this guy who lives on the other side of the world and sheer kilometres, and the vast blue ocean, are preventing me from showing up at his house with chicken soup and a book on Ancient Greek Mythology. Hey, now, don't judge. We all have our likes and dislikes. Some of us get by with a little help from our Gods. Get it? In truth, he'd probably prefer Roman Mythology. And, if I really think about it, he's probably grateful I'm not showing up on his doorstop and demanding to make him feel better. I envision it as a Mary Poppins experience, but it'd probably turn into a Nurse Ratched endeavour. 

And I'm also irritated by the fact I'm worrying without results. This news upsets me because I care for this fine, young fellow. He's the three B's. Beauty, brains and ... wait, I can't think of a 'b' word for funny. So, I guess he's two B's and an F. Regardless, we are friends and I want everything to be okay. He won't see my worrying. It won't help any. Maybe it's even pointless. Still, it's there. The niggling nurturing ball of wanting to do something but not being able to. I just hate being ineffectual. 

Lastly, I am irked he might not know I care. That's the strange thing about internet friendships. Sometimes you don't know how important they are. I have people who I have met over the internet, who I have only met once, or some never, who I legitimately would do anything for. If they needed money, a place to stay, someone to dig a grave, I would give it to them, but do they know this? I doubt it. 

It doesn't matter that I am internet friends with this bloke. Or that he's on the other side of the world. He's my friend and I care. I think with all the banter and posts and teasing and white noise that message sometimes gets lost. 

Well, to clarify. I care and love. And worry. So, get better, you twakward, English bloke. 

  

Facebook Friends

Facebook friends are a perplexing thing to me - both having them and being one. Because of the hodge-podge of thoughts in the swamp I call my head, I have taken a couple moments to put some semblance of order to what I want to say. I am starting at the end. A totally reasonable place to start, right? Yes, yes, as a writer I should understand the importance of a strong beginning, but if Memento can start at the end, why can't I?

Today I purged around two hundred 'friends' from my Facebook. I feel good about the decision. Kind of liberating, actually. A little bit godly, I must admit, deciding who stays and who goes. The truth is, it all began with a purpose. I intended to weed out those I never talk to and the ones I didn't know who the hell they even were. But as the unfriending got underway, I realized something interesting, and a wee bit odd. Facebook wasn't showing me all my friends. Some of you might think I was doing it wrong, but I wasn't. I totally understand the Facebook and all its functions. I clicked on 'all' my friends and it only showed me around half, if that. Right this very second, I have 350 'friends' on Facebook and I just counted how many it is showing me. Can you guess the number?

148

So, where the hell are the other 202? Good question. I have no flipping idea.

Personally, I think if it says 'all' friends, it should actually be ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS. Imagine if I said you could have all of the vanilla cake with fluffy lemon frosting only to give you a sliver of it? You'd be pissed off, and perfectly justified. I mean, I'd rage over not getting the whole cake. And I really can't come up with a good reason why Facebook doesn't let you see all your friends. I can only surmise it's the powers that be not wanting you to see all the people who aren't talking to you - all this ignoring and non-communication on their super awesome 'social networking' site! The horror!

I put the words social networking into single quotation marks because Facebook isn't a social networking site anymore, much like the Twitter. Whoa? You might be saying. What kind of baloney am I talking about? This can't possibly be true. After all, you saw the movie with Jessie Eisenberg in 2010 called The Social Network and it was clearly all about that dude who started the greatest ever of all social networking sites.

Yeah, except that was way back in the day when Facebook gifts were free, people still used the poking function, and you didn't have to use your number to sign up. Now you practically have to pay for anything awesome, it doesn't keep you connected and it pretty much wants your first born, if it doesn't already have him/her.

There are two very different reasons why the Twitter and the Facebook aren't social networking sites anymore. The Twitter is now a place where  the posts people make are mostly pre-programmed updates, the majority of which are selling something. Very few people actually log into Twitter anymore. For the most part, they link all their social media from one hub, like HootSuite, and don't even interact with any of their followers. Did you catch that? If there is no interacting, then there is no socializing, which means there is no networking. I get people following me all the time, only to unfollow me a day later when I don't return the favour. This isn't to say I wouldn't follow them, I'm just not given the opportunity, and also, they aren't talking to me! These people don't comment on my tweets or posts. Not even a hello, for crying out loud. I tried and tried with Twitter, but it is hopeless. Now I just auto post my blogs from my fan page on FB, because if you can't beat them ... you get the point.

Now, Facebook is another monster altogether, but the end result is the same - no interaction. Back in December, Facebook decided they were changing the way pages worked. Basically, any post you put out into the world would only reach about 10% of your followers. This was all done for a money grab. They implemented this whole 'boost your post' option, which basically means you can pay Facebook a bundle of money to reach the people who voluntarily followed you in the first place. Seems weird, right? Well, it is, and shady too.

Massive companies like Coca-Cola and McDonalds won't suffer because of this. They have millions of followers, so even reaching 10% is pretty damn good, and they also have a surplus of money to boost their posts. You know those really annoying advertisements in your feed that you hide because you hate seeing them? Those are people who have paid Facebook so much money that they are boosting their posts to people who don't even like the freakin' company. Ridiculous, right?

In the end, it's the little guys who suffer. In the beginning, I used to get comments and likes on my fan page posts, it used to reach hundreds of my followers, now I am lucky if twenty people see it, no one shares them anymore, and life is a little bit lonely over there. And it's fine. I mean, Facebook is a free site and I am using it as such. I'm just a little old blogger doing this in my spare time. Where it really gets tragic is small businesses. Companies and people who relied on Facebook to reach out to their fans/viewers/readers for a minimal profit. Those people are getting shot in the face by Facebook's greed, and that frustrates me.

What's even more annoying is the changes implemented to fan pages back in December are also being enforced on your personal pages. Don't act surprised. You've already noticed it. People you used to talk to all the time aren't showing up in your feed. No one is liking or commenting on your statuses. The readers on your blog have dropped drastically. The only time anyone connects with you is when it's your birthday, because Facebook reminds everyone you still exist.

In the past couple months, I've seen a plethora of updates from friends asking if people can see their posts, or complaining about the lack of support lately on Facebook. Do you really think all those lovely people who used to take the precious second to like your statuses don't like you anymore? No, they do. They just don't see you in their feed! Like they aren't appearing in yours! So, how do we get over these staggering limitations?

For a while now, I've figured the more you interact with people, the more you will see from them in your feed. This is true, for sure. But when you have over a hundred friends, it's near impossible to interact with them all daily. Heck, ten is tough for me. The really important ones get starred, like my sister and brother, Scraps, Rebs, Noelle, my mom and dad) so I always know what they are up to. But I can't star all the ones I love, then my notifications would be out of control. There has to be an easier, less cluttered way, right?

Ages ago, I started changing my news feed to 'most recent' stories, instead of 'top stories'. (Yeah, it's totally aggravating that Facebook takes it upon itself to switch my feed back to 'top stories' all the time, too. Don't even get me started on 'top stories' either. How the hell do they choose what is a top story? Most of the time it's something with three likes and one comment. Let me tell you, that algorithm is off.) Anyhow, I find 'most recent' stories has helped a bit with staying connected to all the beautiful gals and guys I used to romp around with on the internet.

Back to the point, I shouldn't have to star people or interact with all my favourites daily, or keep putting my news feed to 'most recent' stories. Facebook should show me the posts my friends make. All my friends. Because if I didn't want to see them, then I would remove them from my feed, or Facebook altogether. And if you just so happen to be one of those people who don't use Facebook all that much, you're out of luck. No one will see you. You won't see many other people. It's like a needy girlfriend. Facebook needs constant reassurance and love in order for it to perform adequately. Notice how I didn't say 'well' or 'good'. Because with the recent changes, I doubt Facebook will ever be good again. Harsh, right? Well, that's how I feel.

None of this has much to do with why I removed 200 of my friends, though. Not really. A small fraction of it stems from not being able to interact with a lot of them and how there isn't much social networking going on over there anymore. But most of it all comes down to friendship. The people I culled today weren't my friends. Heck, most of them weren't even acquaintances. They have never commented or liked anything I have ever posted. So, why should they be there? I'm not seeing their updates. They aren't seeing mine.

So, I brought out my axe and hacked and slashed. Now I am comfortable with the people on my list. People I've had interactions with. I recognize their faces (or avatars, because some of them never even show their faces). We've chatted, laughed, exchanged witticisms, or maybe even road tripped somewhere together. Left behind are people I like, or would like to know better. By ousting a few shadows, I am hoping to reconnect with a few people who have gotten overlooked in the madness.

Now my spring cleaning is done. Or at least I think it is, I have 202 friends I can't see.

Don't Tell Me Your Secrets

Here's the thing about secrets, no one keeps them, except my friend Rae-Anne (who I call Bots). She is, literally, the only person I know who can keep a secret. When my ex and I broke up we only told a select few people. Mostly because we didn't want to have to deal with all the questions and people prodding into our private lives. My ex, we will call him Jay, had this crazy group of friends who were pretty close. They told each other everything. Even things they probably shouldn't have told people.

For some reason, Jay didn't tell his friends we broke up. Trust me, I understood why, it was a really hard breakup and even I only told four people. We didn't want to go through it, let alone talk about or post on Facebook for all and sundry to comment and query over. Bots happened to be one of the four I told about the demise of one of the most important relationships of my life and she happened to be dating one our other good friends, Nick. Off the cuff, I mentioned to her that Jay wanted to tell his friends himself, so not to say anything to Nick.

Well, weeks past. A month. And one day Jay and I decided to go shooting guns with Nick. As we were sitting there, we realized ... Nick didn't know! He had no idea we had broken up. Bots never told him! That's hard to believe, right? I mean, we both thought she would have said something. When it finally did come out in the wash that Jay and I hadn't been together for over a month, it was mighty awkward. Probably something Nick will never forgive. I always joke with Jay if we ever got back together we shouldn't tell Nick. Just because it'd be hilarious.

The point is, Bots can keep a secret.

For the most part, other people don't have that kind of tight-lipped-ness. I certainly don't. Truthfully, I don't have a lot of friends. That said, I tell my Sidekick and sister everything. They know all your secrets. Probably. Sometimes things just don't come up. If your secret is amazing, they will know about it. Even if they don't know about you.

Sorry, it's just the way things are.

And if you want to be sly and get up to something, don't involve me, especially if you are trying to be sneaky with someone else I know. Because they are probably going to find out. Either by me hinting at it, or by me accidentally messing up and telling them about it. Like the time we were throwing a going away party for Claire and we were all exchanging emails and I CC her in on them. What's wrong with me? I don't know.

Just don't tell me your secrets.

Take Me Home

One of my most lovely friends posted an interesting blog about home. How he longs for home, even when he is in the house he is living. In all my wisdom, I replied with my own thoughts on home. How it's more a feeling than a place. They, whoever 'they' are, have two different sayings.

Home is where you hang your hat.

This isn't the case. We can have an apartment, house, or basement suite and still not feel at home in our space. Because our hearts long for something more. If you are alone in your dwelling, or if there are toxic vibes or ill will from those you live with, well that space can be very un-home-like.

Home is where your heart is.

This is more apt, I think. I remember growing up and well into my twenties, my home was where my parents were. In the beginning, it was because that's all I knew. When I got older, it was because they offered me a space where I could simply be and not be judged or have anyone expect anything from me. I loved them. They loved me. Being in their presence was my home because they gave me peace and safety and a comfort zone. Nothing was ever going to happen to me while I was with my parents.

You can find this peace, safety and comfort in the presence of other people. Like your Sidekick. Or, for instance, friends and family. My sister is most definitely home for me. When I'm with my sister, there is this overwhelming home feeling. There are other people too, like my ex-boyfriend, which seems kind of weird. Still, when I am around him, in his space, at his house, in his truck, I am comfortable and at peace and loved. So I am home. Friends like Rebs and Bots and Leppy all extended themselves to me for such a long time that I will never be uncomfortable around them. They have offered me their homes and made it my own.

So, I truly feel home is where your heart is.

Even more, though. Home is where you are. I think you carry your home within you. I am at home in the woods and at the beach. I am at home in my truck driving down island. I am at home in my bed with my boys. I am at home wherever I am.

Maybe that's because I love myself. Accept myself. Enjoy my time alone. Because my heart is inside me and it doesn't want to be anywhere else.

Regardless, home isn't a structure in my opinion. It isn't made of wood or brick. The amount of rooms or type of flooring do not matter. Sure, you can build a house and raise a family in it, you can fill it full of the most wonderful memories and that house can feel like a home. But those memories will still exist if the house doesn't. Don't get me wrong. I want that sort of home too. A safe haven where everyone I love can come when they are broken and I will heal them with baked goods and magical forest walks.

But isn't that wherever I am. Wherever I go. Which is why I say home is a feeling. You should be carrying it inside you every day. Whatever place you live in. There is this world. Our world. And everyone you love lives here, or has lived here. Isn't that comforting? Space and time are inconsequential when love is involved.
You are home because you are here. Because you exist and the word is yours. As it is mine.

Wasabi Eye

Since moving to Vancouver Island, I have cultivated only a handful of friendships. By a handful, I mean no more than five and most likely around three. Don't get me wrong. I'm friendly with a lot more people, it's just hard for me to bridge the gap between 'being friendly' and 'being friends'. Maybe because I think things should unfold organically and, though it may come as a shock, I'm actually fairly introverted and, even more telling, I have a fondness for being a lone.

Because I work and interact with the public every day, I don't need anymore time with 'people'. After hours and on weekends, I go home and read, write, edit, do a puzzle, bake, knit or watch bad television. This is in fact ideal for me. Going out once a month isn't a problem for me because I'm a low key lady with a predilection for being alone. Also, I really like my Sidekick, so when I'm at home with him, I feel as if I am with a friend and socializing.

Still, it's nice to have a friend or two in real life, other than the Sidekick, that I can chat with and knit silly things for. So, in an effort to be more social, I had a date with two feisty females last Friday. We had sushi, watched Divergent (it wasn't the worst movie ever) and went to The Whistle Stop for drinks. No worries, I stuck to water with a bit of lemon and didn't force myself on anyone unwilling.

It was nice and very revealing.

See, by some weird twist of events, I ended up with wasabi in my eye. The right one, if you must know. Now, I was wearing glasses and a hat and I can't honestly tell you how it happened, but I'm pretty sure magic was involved. All I can say for certain was it hurt like all kinds of hell. If I had of been alone, this would have been a horrible memory for me shudder over in the future. I would have had to stumble to the bathroom, probably ram into the table of the people behind me, and chances are I would have tripped and fallen flat on my wasabi stinging face.

As it was, I had friends with me. One of those beautiful individuals took it upon herself to help me clean the wasabi globs out from under my eye and off my lashes, while I remained seated. Oh, don't think I was composed. The tears were flowing and whines came forth.

There is a lesson in this story. Don't eat sushi alone. Or maybe that it is nice to have friends.

Did you know wasabi looks like this? 

I always thought it looked like this pretty flower of green paste. 

And did you know there are wasabi Kit Kat bars? 

Yeah, I'm not sure how I feel about this either.

I'm Tired

Today, I am tired. I woke up tired. Not sleepy. Just tired.

Tired of feeling cautious. Uncertain of my surroundings. Not sure of what to say or do. Or why I want to say and do what I want to say and do. It's complex, I suppose. Or maybe not. Maybe we all know exactly what I mean when I say I am tired of feeling cautious.

The tiredness goes beyond the uneasy feeling. I am tired of feeling heavy. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

Exhausted over money. Not having any. Like none. Being poor. Unable to buy groceries. Or a dress. A badly needed pair of shoes for work. Travelling is out, because gas is so expensive. Ferry rides are out. So my friends, those real life unvirtual ones, seem so far away. I did this to myself. No need to remind me. The bills are piling up. I'm getting frustrated with myself. And the worry, well, I'm so tired of worrying over money. Of having it be the soul thing I'm fretting over and having the lack of it mess up the good things, and taint the happiness I was feeling.

I'm tired of wanting a hug. And not wanting to ask for one at the same time.

More so, I'm tired of feeling fat, even though I know society's idea of what women should weigh is far under what is healthy. And though I know that. I still stress about my weight. Cellulite. Stretch marks. The jiggle in this wiggle. Even things I once loved aren't looking the same. Not while I'm wearing these tired glasses of mine. They make everything look so much more unattractive than it is.

Ugly. Tired of it as well. It's a beast. And it takes over.

The lack of undisturbed slumber is making me tired. In the true sense, though, not in the metaphorical or symbolic way. In the I-am-actually-tired sort of way.

I'm tired of having these random days where nothing seems to go right. Waking up angry, burning the toast, messing up breakfast, banging my head on a cupboard, staining my clothes, tearing my nylons, not being comfortable in my own skin, seeing the flaws and wondering where the fabulous is, biting my lips and making it bleed and wanting someone to say yes to something but they just keep saying no.

It's draining to feel as though life is simply slipping through my fingers as I worry and fret and lose sleep. It's scary to think I'm getting older and the bullshit keeping me awake is the same. It's crazy that one day I simply won't exist anymore and none of this will matter. It's strange that it really doesn't even matter now.

It's funny because it's all in my head.