Whether you are finding friends on Facebook or tweetin’ on Twitter, there’s a limit to the time you should be on the internet. There are 24 hours in a day, and even for online writers, there are other responsibilities, i.e., exercising, cooking dinner, checking mail, and cleaning house.
I’m not an internet expert, but I love surfing the web, and more recently clicking on “like” in response to comments that my friends leave on Facebook. Last year, I joined Facebook but didn’t have the foggiest idea about how to use it. On Christmas day, I wrote my first online article and decided that Facebook would be a great place to promote it.
But between then and now, my casual acquaintanceship with Facebook is becoming an obsessive, full-blown love affair. I used to check my articles to see if anyone had clicked “like” or made a comment and quickly log out, then I changed the settings so an email is sent to me each time someone clicks “like” or when my Facebook “friends” make a comment. One of my friends is quite verbal and has profound things to say, along with being a fellow writer. I always read the posts she makes to her wall, and sometimes I comment on them. I have to, literally, log off Facebook to keep myself from typing long responses to her, and others’, comments.
I’m at an age, and no, I’m not going to tell you what that age is, where I shouldn’t be obsessing over social media or the latest craze; I will date myself by telling you this, but I remember my nearly fatal attraction to the “Pac-Man” video game. Recently, I relayed a story to my son of my former single life, working in a downtown building that was next door to a hotel; the hotel had a game room where “Pac-Man” was prominently featured. Before work, at lunch time, and after work, I became intimately acquainted with “Pac-Man.” I started stealing away with him on the weekends too, because I had to be in his presence. Today, I wish I had all the quarters that I freely spent on “Pac-Man” because of my love, or rather, my obsession, for him.
This evening, my son accused me of internet addiction, but I vehemently denied it. I told him I was writing articles, because I need money. He reiterated, “That doesn’t look like what you’re doing. You should power the computer off, so you can take me skateboard riding.” I promised him, “In 15 more minutes,” because I was “finishing up an article.” Well, it took more than 15 minutes . . . and concerning those denials about the alleged addiction, “the lady doth protest too much, methinks.”