“You’re going to be posting your trip on Facebook, right?
Well, maybe… And maybe not.
So far, I’ve been responding to that question with a “probably”: Kind of a definite maybe. I’ve had a personal Facebook page for several years now, and I’ve experienced the good stuff that comes with the medium: Connecting with old friends and classmates, finding interesting groups and businesses, etc. There are some great resources and social aspects too, and I’ve enjoyed them.
But there are some serious drawbacks, as well. There is no better waster of time – and therefore life – than “just checking” Facebook. It’s as addictive as heroin (hence the nickname “Crackbook”) and as easy going down as a rum punch after a hot day.
Don’t think it’s addictive? Well perhaps it’s not for everyone, but I’ve found myself unable to walk by the computer desk without “peeking” more times than I can count, even when I’d made a solemn promise to myself that I wouldn’t ‘Book until after 5pm…
If that isn’t addictive behavior, I’ll eat my metaphorical hat.
So now I’m thinking we probably won’t have a page for the trip, and the reason ties directly into the very motivation for this upcoming lifestyle change. Time.
We’re going cruising because we want to simplify, slow down, and really experience each moment of the life we’re living. We want to actually BE THERE as participants, not witness it as observers or reporters. Facebook sucks time like a black hole sucks galaxies, and I’m not willing to spend my limited time in this life that way. This blog will be bad enough.
And then there are the trolls.
Call me a sensitive new-aged guy, but the constant stream of political idiocy, racist and sexist vitriol and outright vicious attacks that Facebook is so justly famous for just tear my heart apart. I try not to read it, I unfriend people who spout it, and yet I keep getting hit with it. Privacy settings notwithstanding, it finds me. And it hurts.
So no, we won’t have a Facebook Page for the cruise to Where the Butter Melts. Interested folks will have to find us here or – better yet – go make their own, real live adventures. Or both.
But I hope you’re not planning to follow us instead of taking the leap yourself. That would be most unfortunate.
Get out there. Live. Love. Be.