"The man in front of me at the ALDI checkout tried to bag his items as they were scanned, quite clearly an amateur".
This is just one of my many Facebook statuses that I ponder, produce and publish for my friends own delectation, all of course done in a bid to avoid spending my life savings on vintage step-ladders from eBay. I write what could be considered very little in comparison to others. Although, what I do write, a frightening proportion of it is about regional train services and pork pies, which, if anything should prompt me to re-evaluate a few things about my life.
I love Facebook, I love Twitter and I am starting to develop substantial feelings for its hipster lovechild, Instagram. Though I cannot help but feel that not everything is mutual between the aforementioned triplet and me, they hold complete control over me, kind of like a possessive ex-girlfriend who wouldn't let me eat halloumi cheese unless it was with her. I feel that if I were Superman, which after numerous attempts of twirling in a telephone box and bugger all happening, I realised I am not, social media induced procrastination would be my kryptonite.
Social media, I maintain, is a wonderful creation. I adore the fact that I can forever keep in touch with people I know with or without speaking to them, it is like you can maintain friendships with very little effort, which of course are the best kind of friendships, right? Although, I think social media has sadly enabled us to take things for granted, though more importantly, it has made us far too self-indulgent and easily distracted. A handful of months ago I read an article in a journal that upon research with a significant sample size, it could be suggested that 53.7% of individuals would participate in activities and events purely to capture proof with the intention of then broadcasting it on any one of the three core social media concepts online.
I think the key issues here is that everyone wants their fellow humans to know how well life is going for them, how successful they are, that they are doing thingz with a z, going places and seeing lots of men about countless dogs. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love hearing about your summer holiday to Ibiza and I love seeing the photographs even more, but must we all persist in trying to impress and outdo each other? I am guilty of this too, of course.
All too often I have enrolled onto a programme of realization at the school of life and found myself sat on the old DFS special, mindlessly and continuously I hasten to add scrolling through and scrolling down to refresh the news feed that presents itself to me. I know that nothing new has been written, posted nor added; yet I still discover myself doing it. What the dickens?
I wonder if I should be reading, writing, watching, learning and engaging with nature and the world that surrounds me. Instead, I am developing a significant addiction to this platform that allows my more naïve friends to write about how many times they vomited before making it to the club, how their ex-squeeze doesn't believe in child maintenance and thus adopts the title of the anatomy from which we excrete. It is jovial, menial and all ineffective, yet it has come close to swallowing the time I have, annoyingly, I enjoy it, and it is problematic of the highest order.
I like social media and most people preach that one should always do what they like, except of course, you know, kill a man or punch a rabbit. I'll continue, plow on, if you will, but I endeavor and apply forth my upmost effort possible to withdraw to a glance every now and again. Perhaps I may be able to catch up every few days or maybe reduce my contribution to just a gentle bit of promotion about what takeaway will make me bloat that week or what life goal I have reached, not necessarily to boast but to maybe tell those who perhaps care about and support me.
After all, it is easier than WhatsApp'ing or Snapchatting all of those people individually, which is a whole different problem altogether...