With all the blase-bullshit going on, I chose yesterday to deactivate my Facebook account which left me time to actually get some writing done. Yes, I blogged, but in addition to the blog, I also jotted down and fleshed out a few story ideas in an attempt to squeeze something delicious from my cerebrally-controlled phalanges into the pages of another speculative fiction anthology.
(Thanks, Duotrope - hopefully my "annual fee" will actually pay for itself considering you started charging in January and it's now September. Better late than never.)
Strange, though, the feeling of "disconnectedness" I have when I don't have a Facebook window open. It almost mirrors the feeling I had last weekend, only this time it came as a result of my own decision; yet I still feel like I owe people an explanation or something. Which I don't. Considering most of the people on my "friends list" have roughly 300 people on their "friends list," so they won't even notice one is missing.
(I'm almost willing to bank on that.)
The strange part about it is that I'm no longer sure where to get my news...or my dog videos.
And now I'm back in writing mode, which translates roughly into the panic one feels when they load their grocery cart with food for the week and then realize--after the cashier has rung their purchases--that they don't have their wallet. Meaning, I have a super cool idea for a story, I just don't know where to begin.
So the whole "living sans Facebook" thing is a reality, and so far it's a good one. I'm honestly not sure if I'll ever go back. Maybe I should have passed out some contact information before I took off--there are a few people I'm going to miss--but if they are crafty enough, they should be able to find me. I mean, hell, there's always Google Plus.
(Okay, that was a joke.)
Cherstin, out.
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