Life After Facebook

Last Tuesday morning while I was at work, I decided that I needed to cancel my Facebook account. Many times, I would come home from work and head right for the computer chair, check my email, check other websites I frequent, then I would go on Facebook. And I would stay on Facebook, almost the whole afternoon, maybe stopping for a few minutes to take the dog out or scoop the cat boxes, or get a snack that I didn't need. I have a lot of time to think while I'm at work, and one of the things that I think about is what I want/need to do when I get home. Sometimes I make a list, sometimes I don't. But nothing ever got done, because I was constantly on Facebook. I know my tenses are all over the place, bear with me.

You might think I spent all of my time playing the games, but I didn't play any. It would have been a lot worse if I did. All I did was search for people, look at pictures (sometimes from people I didn't even know, who were linked to by friends), and constantly update the main page to see who was posting what (I hid all of the game-related postings). If I did actually do something productive away from the computer, I would take a lot of Facebook breaks.

What about moderation? I hear you cry. The first step in moderation was to take Facebook out of the Firefox bookmarks bar, so I didn't have a direct line to it. Pretty stupid, right? It's still right there in the most visited drop down menu, it just takes an extra step. Then I tried limiting my time on it, but there was no way in hell I could manage that. So on Tuesday, I decided that I had to go cold turkey, or I would never get off of it. And I decided that it had to be that day. So when I got home, I posted "bye bye" to my status and got every one's email address that I really wanted to keep in touch with. The only sticking point was that I created a group for my favorite podcast, Tank Riot, and I thought the group would shut down when I canceled my account. So I made my wife an admin of the group, thinking that I would ask the group members if someone could run the group while logged into her account. That was actually resolved pretty quickly, someone else is now running the group for me.

Facebook is definitely internet crack, because I'm having major withdrawal symptoms. One of my favorite things to do on Facebook was to try and find people that I met during my day, whether it be cashiers with a name tag at stores, or waiters or waitresses. This kind of borders on stalking, but many times I couldn't access their pages, and if I could, I gave it a perfunctory look and went on my way.

I miss interacting with family and true friends on Facebook. I don't like talking on the phone, so messaging on Facebook was great for me. I also was interacting with relatives I rarely see, which was really nice, especially when they posted pictures of their kids, some of whom I haven't met yet. My cousin Rob is fixing up his house and posting pictures of the progress, which I liked seeing. But I'm afraid if I go back just for this, that it will get out of control again.

Ultimately, I think Facebook is a great thing, as long as you don't abuse it like I did. One of the best things for me was when I found my friend Steve. He was my best friend in elementary school, and he moved far away right before junior high. We kept in touch for a year or so, but then we drifted apart. I haven't seen him or talked to him since those days. Last year he joined Facebook and we found each other, and we discovered that our lives took similar turns, which is cool and kind of sad at the same time, because maybe it would have been better to experience those things together. But what can you do? The next best thing: We are going to see Steve and hopefully his wife this summer, more than 29 years after the last time I saw him. So thank you Facebook, for improving my life in some areas, and ruining it in others.

Mango

This sweet girl is Mango. She unfortunately escaped from her home and ran into a person who poured lighter fluid on her and set her on fire, giving her burns over 70% of her body. After being cared for by Merced CA vet Dr. Christine McFadden via rescue group New Beginnings for Animals, she was taken to Best Friends Animal Society in Kanab, Utah. She was well cared for there, but she developed a reaction to the anesthesia that she needed when her bandages were changed. Mango had to be euthanized a few days ago due to the complication from the anesthesia.

How do you look into that face and do something like that?

Remember Sammy Jankis

After a delay of close to 10 years, Sarah and I finally saw Memento over the weekend (thanks be to Netflix). It's one of those movies that we both really wanted to see but never got around to it (just like Shawshank Redemption, which we finally saw last year, despite my love of all things Stephen King). It was a very good movie; I had heard a little about the sequence being backwards, so I was able to follow what was going on in that part (the color part). The black and white part was a bit more confusing. I did kind of suspect what would happen in the end, but I got the details all wrong. For me, any kind of entertainment that confounds your expectations is good entertainment, and I think Memento falls into this category.

I did not care for Guy Pearce in the main role, which is odd, because I really liked him in L.A. Confidential, but I didn't like the movie, because I read James Ellroy's book first. But this is actually not a review of the movie, it's about one short scene in the movie, which I found to be very harrowing and haunting. It's not the murders (yeah, spoilers, but the movie is out of the statute of spoiler limitations after 10 years, sorry) or any of the violence. It's a scene with Sammy Jankis and his wife (played by Stephen Tobolowsky and Harriet Sansom Harris, respectively). If you haven't seen the movie and don't want to know any details, stop reading now.

Leonard (Guy Pearce's role) tells the story in flashbacks of Sammy Jankis, who suffers from the same fate he does (anterograde amnesia, which means he is not able to create new memories, so he forgets that he has already met people, etc.). Sammy can't remember things from one moment to the next, but he is able to administer insulin to his wife when she reminds him, because it is something he did for her before the car accident that caused his condition. Leonard works as an insurance investigator who has Sammy's case, and he denies Sammy coverage because he is not able to learn new things through habit and routine (like Leonard now does), which suggests that Sammy's problem is psychological, and therefore not covered.

All this obviously takes its toll on Mrs. Jankis, who can't really leave Sammy alone, and is having trouble coming to grips with who her husband is now. The one scene I'm referring to (about 45 minutes into the film) has Leonard narrating most of it, but some dialogue between Sammy and his wife comes through. She is visibly upset because she missed a phone call from someone, possibly when she was out, and the call was taken by Sammy and forgotten. She is angry and berating Sammy, who knows he did something wrong, but doesn't know what, and only knows it because his wife is angry. And possibly because in the back of her mind she knows he won't remember, in her frustration and anger, she slaps him. Just once, and not that hard, but to me, it seemed like that slap caused her to break down, and then Sammy tried to console her. It's a very short scene as I said, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since we watched the movie on Saturday night.

First of all, the two actors are absolutely stunning in the anguish and grief they portray. I've seen Harriet Sansom Harris in a few things, both comedy and drama, and she does both very well. But Stephen Tobolowsky is a revelation. I've seen him in comedy and drama as well, but the comedy side of him tends to stick out (Do you have life insurance, Phil? Because if you do, you could always use a little more, right?). His eyes in this scene were incredibly expressive, and today I found myself downloading all 25 episodes of his podcast and putting his own movie where he tells stories about himself in my Netflix queue. I wish I knew more superlatives or could write more like a critic, but I can't. The guy was in a band with Stevie Ray Vaughan, how awesome is that?

The actual reason this scene caused me to write this post was the moral question it raises. There's no excuse for hitting someone in this situation, but what if the person being hit won't remember? I know in my case, I would remember very well and feel incredibly guilty about it. And it's not really a premeditated act, it stems from frustration or passion of some kind. I get frustrated easily and I have a temper, so I'm worried a bit that if I was in this situation, I would do something stupid and then have to live with the regret. I took care of my grandfather for a few months when I was 20, but I had help and it wasn't hurting my finances, and he was just unable to care for himself for a little while. Still, it was very frustrating sometimes. I don't know if my grandfather ever got wind of my frustration, I certainly hope not, but I do think about it sometimes.

Having someone totally dependent on you to live is a very scary thought for me. I hope that I am up to the challenge if I am ever faced with it.