FOUR CONSECUTIVE EVENS

 

Neither Facebook nor Twitter have yet gone the way of Sermo, the social media platform for physicians, which I successfully abandoned about two years ago.  As I approached three weeks or so almost devoid of participation in either, short of a birthday greeting or a comment about seeing somebody on TV, mostly I’ve not been there.  Tossing around ideas for optimal return, one that keeps me in control though not total control which got me too absorbed, I chose to spin a virtual roulette wheel early each morning.  Even I stay off, Odd I set the timer for 25 minutes and use that as my box of interactive time.  Statistically, that would keep me On just under half the time.  As it turns out, I’ve not returned yet, with all four day’s spins landing the virtual marble in Even slots.  No excuses for my part on not respecting randomness.

While it is unlikely that any of my FB Friends or Twitter contacts care one way or the other if I ever sign in again, and I also feel ambivalent, the two platforms have algorithms that in their own impersonal circuit driven method would like to see me resume typing away again.  It began with email messages notifying me that my children had posted either a comment, photo, or memory.  Would I be willing to miss out?  This time yes.  Then the notifications expanded to include others with whom I have exchanged only friendly comments, those ceremonial though sincere wish you wells for birthdays, vacations, or other minor landmarks.  To my surprise, there are a handful of people toward which my comments have had real content, a measure of machshava or analysis.  No notifications from anyone where my responses have required discernment have gotten selected by the grand algorithms.  And since for all practical purposes I am never hostile in my feedback, their automated methods had no way of capturing my return with the lure of ire.  I didn’t take the bait, even when provided by masters.  But for sure, the Best and Brightest who make it to the FB payroll will channel their talent into various attractions that get me to sign in and express myself through the keyboard or emoticon icons.  Without seeing their screen, I have no way of seeing any words from their sponsors, even though avoiding their sponsors, already largely ignored or asked not to return, had zero bearing on my original intent of a few weeks’ hiatus.

After three weeks, I find it surprisingly hard to define what really prompted me to set the social media forums aside.  I had not really neglected anything I found truly important like my adult ed courses, a certain amount of writing, scheduled exercise, prudent grocery shopping, or even using my access to TV and cyberspace to enhance my mind in a way that social media just doesn’t.  I didn’t feel exasperated with my contacts either.  I rarely send any contact to Herem, that is exile, for views that conflict with mine, though I am much less tolerant of relentless sloganeering in the absence of justification for those views.  Having a justification for the positions you take is just something I personally hold in high value to the degree of looking down on those who evade this.  There are people unfollowed, not many, only one ever who I knew personally Unfriended, and a few others snoozed when comments got a bit beyond my rather tough, mostly tolerant hide.  I did snooze somebody who I really did not know personally for some progressively overt racist statements but I can say I did not want to be bothered more than I was offended or angry. 

What I think I needed more was an escape from the lure of having to be amid the comments.  They range from pleasant congratulations on the new grandchild to more substantial analytical statements of postings from highly accomplished friends.  I just found the need to respond, really more a desire than a need, a distraction from other things I should be doing instead, even though I still managed to allot time to do those other things.  My priorities needed a tap of the reset button and got it.

Many others before me have described their times of separation from the lures of social media in general and Facebook most specifically.  I did not feel any separation anxiety or FOMO, Fear of Missing Out.  I didn’t miss out.  I did feel a smidgen more in control of my habits and in control of my activities.  Unlike Odysseus, I did not have to request anyone tie me to a mast as the lure of Facebook turned out a lot less alluring than the Sounds of the Sirens.  While I always have a fondness for the people I once knew, many of whom I got to know better through social media reacquaintance, I did not really feel deprived of their company.  Certainly not so much that a Facebook message on my personal email that somebody close to me had posted something would reverse my decision to steer clear of their platform a while longer.

Now I let virtual roulette offer a random thumbs up or down to signing aboard for each day.  The first four came up evens and the fifth a 00, with Odds allowing me back on. By now I already have a good grasp of everyone’s political druthers.  I know who likes to cook, who will be eating out a lot, who will greet us from a faraway place, and who likes their pets more than their neighbors.  In some sense, my cohort of about ninety constitutes a tribe.  We probably do not count as an evolutionary driven band of people whose association enhances personal and species survival.  More, we are like a fraternity, people largely assembled based on age and school district mingled together without our specific choosing but still eager to maintain friendships that have endured, and sometimes progressed, long after that relatively involuntary gathering has ended and we have dispersed geographically as well as via individual experience.  They are entirely people of merit, even when their comments irritate.  Being among them remains satisfying.  Insatiable causes harm, satisfying prolongs rapport.  Eventually my daily spin of the virtual roulette will land the ball at an odd number.