I have a tradition of admitting to SHAMEFUL SECRETS here. Well, not really, but it'll be interesting to see what kind of GoogleSearchers that brings in.
Anyway, I joined Facebook a few months back and mostly haven't done much of anything over there. Every time I search for someone from my distant past, I wind up finding 12 pages of people with similar names all over the country. Hey, the whole idea is that I'm trying to figure out "what ever happened to ______________?" If I knew where they lived now, I wouldn't have to search for them, now would I. And don't think the pictures help either. No offense old friends, but...uh...you've aged a little.
So, within the past week, I've found myself connecting with a whole slew of people all at once, owing mostly to re-connecting with some people I went to college with and a Group someone set up for people who used to work at Blake Films in Boston, (my first real job in the Biz). Suddenly, I find myself going from having a piddling 15 or so friends to having a middling 70 or so.
Cool? Sure, this could be fun. But then, as soon as I bother to figure out the inner workings of FaceBook, they went and changed the HomePage. Fuck You FaceBook! All of a sudden, I can't find diddly-squat. Where's my 'pokes' (although poking seemed a little rude in the first place)? Where did my 'Groups' go to? I just got talked into playing "Mafia" and now I can't find my master criminal. (I just bought a pistol and a crowbar and a baseball bat and someone's reimbursing me for that shit if you don't show me where I have it all stored.)
Look, I know you're all saying, "Hey, my grandmother has a FaceBook page and she knows how to use it! Hell, my 7-year-old has 1256 friends and he knows how to find them all." Well, I can't find my stuff. Congratulate your grandmother and your 7-year-old on their massive Techno-Fu, but they're not here helping me, are they?
Here's my plan:
1. I'm going to head back over to FaceBook and confirm this guy as my newest BFF. I just know he'll show me he ropes.
2. I'm gonna just randomly click on shit over there and see where I end up. That may not end up well, but my courage knows no bounds and I'm willing to take the risk. (Pay no attention to the "screaming like a little girl" you hear coming from Brooklyn. I'll get over it.)
P.S. I'm going to write a remembrance of my 6 years at Blake Films as soon as I figure out how to do it without getting anyone fired from their current job, dumped by their current Significant Other, embarrassed beyond recovery, kicked out of whatever professional association, disbarred, arrested or just plain pissed off enough to come after me with a heavy blunt object. Let's just say workplace regulations were a little bit more lax 20-odd years ago. And the sentence "Let us speak of this no more", was uttered quite often.