It’s been three days since I quit Facebook, and you can’t believe how much I’ve gotten done without that distraction.
I’ve written blogs ahead of their time schedules. I’m prepped for my book club this Sunday, where I’m the leader on O. Henry’s work in the early twentieth century. (Usually I’m fidgeting to finish the book before the 7 PM meeting.) I’ve cleaned a cluttered drawer and repaired a nick in a doorframe. I’ve napped and played piano and ate KFC chicken for dinner, compliments of Earl who brought a bucket home on Discount Day.
It makes me wonder about Facebook. What is its purpose?
To share information or lull us into scrolling instead of doing other productive things? To learn or become zombies. (No offense to zombies.) To keep in touch with friends and family who live far away or to keep in touch with a myriad of companies pushing their wares in front of our eyes.
Facebook was launched by then-Harvard student Mark Zuckerberg in 2004, which means it is over twenty years old. I didn’t join until after the first decade and only then because a couple friends thought it was a great way to share photos of grandchildren who didn’t live nearby. But since then I’ve noticed there are fewer and fewer personal posts – at least among my friends – and more and more sales pitches. Besides, I don’t have any grandchildren; and my own children communicate with me via other more old-fashioned means.
I might still be on Facebook; but when Mr. Zuckerberg said fact checking was a form of censorship, I decided to call it quits. And, yes, I fact checked this statement about Mr. Z before I posted it.
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