So, it has been just over a year since i turned in my Facebook membership card.
My reasons were my own.
Surprisingly, I haven’t missed a thing. I think.
I have tried, and with some minor success, to increase my digital footprint in the Twittersphere. I skirted the Reddit Edge. I Skyped in words with a group of like-mindeds.
My blog has limped along at speeds that would give even the weakest of necks mild, barely perceptible whiplash.
I do feel like I might be a bit out of touch, but not in any of the really important ways.
I am writing in fits and starts. All of it is awesome, in my opinion, Even this. And this.
I guess I expected to have some kind of an epiphany, or that the experience would have a larger impact on me. But it hasn’t and didn’t.
I am, however, left with the reality that if I want to do something with my writing life, then I am going to have to commit to really putting myself out there.
Which may mean shaking hands with the Electronic Devil, and joining, or re-joining, certain social circles.
It’s mere speculation on my part of course, but if I do find myself having to consider the small print, to play wuth the user/privacy settings, and ascertain the relevance of my news feed items, then i will do so on my own terms and conditions.
It will be for my own reasons.
After all, membership has it’s privileges.