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.

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.