Facebook: An unlikely fire under my ass
Several things happen to me a couple of times a year. It used to be more like once every year or so. With the advent of Facebook and, well, aging, I find that I hit this pothole more frequently. Everyone—well, everyone I know, anyway, knows this pothole. It’s the Oh-my-God-what-the-hell-am-I-doing pothole.
Get ready for seriously egotistical Sarah, alright? In a long list of neuroses, this is a big one.
I just watched The Social Network for the first time while buried up to my eyeballs in snow a few weeks ago. Generally, I thought it was just sort of—meh. I found myself on Facebook while watching the movie, which is sort of ironic. Brian managed to completely file our taxes while watching it, if that tells you anything. However, to its credit, I did ponder for a moment of two how different our lives have become, namely in terms of romantic relationships. I mean, driving by your ex-boyfriend’s house four times after you’ve had a few beers at happy hour (this is NOT me endorsing having a few and driving) has become a completely ineffectual method of stalking. The drive-by method simply does not provide the same information than a little bit of Facebook surfing does.
And yet, when you get old and married and boring, Facebook stalking your exes just is far less entertaining. It is, I’ve found, replaced by the random stalking of old high school and college friends. This is no less, um, weird. I mean, don’t we all have a little bit of curiosity about where our friends are now? What they’re doing? Where they’ve been, what they’ve done in the oh, um, ten or fifteen years since we last saw them?
That’s not the unhealthy part.
The unhealthy part is when we (read: me) suddenly wonder what the hell I was doing while my friends have traveled the world, fought in wars, written amazing pieces, acted amazing works, discovered cures to cancer, yadda, yadda. What was I doing?
Apparently I was going to happy hour and doing drive-bys.
Seriously, though. I was once told that I wasn’t reflexive enough. That maybe I should take more time to think about what I’m doing rather than just doing. As much as that comment rankled me, I have taken it to heart. In my vast free time these days, I think an awful lot about where I’ve been, what I’ve accomplished, what I’ve seen and where I’d like to go.
I’m always ready for a new adventure. I am so ready I can taste it. And now I have a fire under my ass again to do something, something that matters. I want to do something that makes a dent, and something that those that come after me can say, hey, how cool is it that she did this?
And so I find myself making big plans. Plans that are so big, sometimes Brian looks tired. Sometimes I think it’s tired of me talking, but no, I think it’s really tired in anticipation of what is to come.
He knew what he was getting into when he married me…a stir-crazy rabble rouser with a lot of words.
Also: I travel the world via my friend’s photos. I’m itching to do some of my own again.
Stay tuned. It’s coming.