Gooble Gobble.

Well, I finally did it. I broke down and gave in. After months of ridiculous agonizing and attempting to stand in opposition of what I had decided was the 21st century’s version of “the man”, I relented.

I now have a Facebook account.

I’m going to say that I was just being fashionably late, if for no other reason than I really don’t want to be called a Luddite. So now that I’ve made the leap, I’m finding that honestly, I don’t quite get it. I guess not having any friends in real life means you won’t automatically be assigned friends online as a concession. Nevertheless, I have indulged myself by meting out a multitude of Likes with a dedication I can only call forced. I do have to say that looking for things to admit to liking is making me a little more positive. After all, it’s more fun to find things you like than things you don’t. The actual liking of things feels empty, though… I can love a band or what have you intensely… and all I can to is click “Like”. To further cheapen things, I found that after the button is clicked, it disappears. Nothing happens that makes you feel like you’ve actually done anything or shown any real support. You click a button that says “Like” and then said button gets the hell out of Dodge.

So you find something else you like, and do it again.

And again.

And again.

What you’re ultimately left with is a profile that… well, says you like stuff. That’s about it. You don’t really have much to show for it other than the fact that someone could look at your profile and glean from it that you like Mountain Dew and iTunes. Somehow, though, you feel like that means something. You feel like there’s a little piece of you out there that you decided to put on Facebook, and now everyone will know of your love for Mountain Dew and iTunes. No one can doubt your commitment to these things, because you Like them. It sounds so silly, but I’m going to be honest… it’s kind of fun. It’s fun to go to a page for something like MST3K, and see people posting various quotes from the show and being replied to with other quotes. That, to me, was when it started to make sense. It’s about finding people who like the same stuff you do and engaging them, using your common interest as a starting point.

So this is how you make friends, he thought to himself.

I’m sure eventually I’ll have friends on Facebook, even if I don’t have friends in real life. I’ll meet people who like Doctor Who and Skrillex. I’ll meet people who are parents and love subwoofers. I’ll meet the people that I know exist somewhere, but that I can’t seem to find… people who like the same things I do, and will like me, too.

For now, though, I’m going to go “Like” the living hell out of some stuff… this Luddite has some serious catching up to do.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation (Part 2)


It's only good when this happens.

I’m in a crappy mood. My summer vacation is dwindling down, second by second, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Might as well enjoy the last bit though, right? Right! This past week wasn’t as productive as the first, though I did manage to squeeze in a trip to Ohio for a family reunion. It was Small Boy’s first really big trip, and he was a consummate professional. The only time he really spoke up was when we were stopped in Kentucky for what I can only assume was the dumbest excuse for backed-up traffic ever.

There are sports that are sports, and sports that are not. NASCAR is not a sport. NASCAR is someone turning left for three hours. NASCAR is, in a word, stupid. The great state of Kentucky has not been made aware of this, however, and decided to have some sort of race event on the day that we humble travelers wanted to traverse the aforementioned state. We sat there, stuck in Kentucky, at a dead stop on the interstate.

Because of fucking NASCAR.

It actually got kind of funny to watch people repeatedly fleeing into the bushes to pee. Well, hopefully. I don’t know what they did out there, but since the tradition of “men travel alone while women are incapable of traveling alone” seemed to apply to the bushes, I assumed that those people were using the great state of Kentucky as one big toilet.

I was fine with that.

We finally got moving again after adding close to 3 hours to a trip that already takes around 9, and my righteous fury waned. I wasn’t mad at NASCAR anymore. After all, I’m sure that a lot of things that I’m interested in and enjoy wouldn’t be things that NASCAR fans would understand like. What got me really pissed actually came a few days later, when I saw that NASCAR or Kentucky or someone was apologizing to the people who were stuck in traffic and that didn’t make it to the race. Not to anyone else. Not to the people who just wanted to go around the whole thing. They were offering some sort of concession, like a ticket exchange or something. I didn’t pay it much attention because I was slightly livid. Can you be slightly livid? At any rate, I was good and angry. I would have liked an apology. I would have liked someone to say “General population, we are truly sorry that our bullshit “sport” caused you to sit on the interstate for almost 3 hours, causing distress for you and your families. We’re sorry that our pathetic joke of a sport made your respective journeys more difficult than they had to be. Above all, we’re sorry that people are so astonishingly obsessed with watching a bunch of motherfuckers turn left that we effectively shut down the state of Kentucky.”

I’m a little bitter about it, but I’m working through it and have made remarkable progress.

Aside from that great misadventure, the week has been low-key. We watched the first two episodes of Miracle Day (a Torchwood thing) and I found myself greatly enjoying it. I didn’t care for Torchwood in the past, because I didn’t like that they inhabited the same world as The Doctor (which is to say David TennantMatt Smith is not a very good Doctor in my opinion) and I wasn’t a fan of the darker tone of the series. I’ve reconsidered that after the horrible, painful season of Doctor Who so far, and I quite like Torchwood. I might go back and watch the earlier episodes. (Side note: Neil Gaiman is a wonderful, charming man… but he cannot write. He should just make a living being charming, and stop writing.)

I also trudged through the first episode of Game of Thrones, and it was also to be my last episode of Game of Thrones. I’m not sure at all what the big deal over this show is. I got the feeling that it was really geared towards people who had read the book, and to them alone. No exposition was given, not one shred of character development happened, and at the end of the episode I literally didn’t know anyone’s name. The show didn’t make me care at all about the characters. It gave me no reason at all to continue watching. I know that on a show like that, there’s bound to be a lot of fan service, and rightfully so… but there’s another audience that doesn’t already know what’s going to happen, and you’ve got to get them interested enough to stick with it. In that regard, the show really let me down.

That’s been about it. I go back to work tomorrow grateful for the time that I’ve had away from it, yet already looking towards the next break. It’s not a bad job at all, but truthfully… I’d rather spend my time blogging. 😉