Skip to main content

Bloggy Blog #26

        Last week, with just a few short clicks, I put to rest (or likely, a Rip Van Winkle-esque nap) my internet version of an ankle monitor. I've tried this plenty of times before, so I am not putting much stock into it for the time being. The URL still rests in the drop down menu, Google magically filling in what it thinks I must be looking for whenever I type anything with an "f" or the word "book." Chrome auto-fill settings can be such a manipulative little bitch. Come on, it's right here, ready for you. 

No. Not any time soon. 

There were events that led up to this unhinging. For starters, a long time ago I disabled commenting. For some reason, this upset a great deal of people. Birthdays would pass and people would get very angry because they couldn't write on my wall. Okay then. Noted. Interestingly enough, once I removed my date of birth from my profile, the happy birthday notifications died down considerably. 


Another action I chose (or stopped choosing, rather) was to cease updating said wall with anything of my own. It certainly wasn't due to lack of reactions or "likes." I just didn't care to update it. Once again, for some reason others took issue with this. Some thought I was deliberately hiding posts specifically from them. This process was successfully ongoing for about three years before last week's actions. 



The final nail in the coffin came with the absolutely absurd idea to download the messenger application for my phone. This soon became the primary medium to chat with others. Great! However, it also became the medium of me staring at my phone waiting for light notifications. I was finding myself unable to go about my day without having to address these messages. Because frankly, I had to. This application in particular features time stamps whether or not you (or the sender) read a message. I found that others were using such a microscopic feature to paint an even larger picture as to why you didn't respond to them right away. The time stamp feature became unnecessarily invasive, and there was no escaping me feeling obligated to explain why the application said I was active at 3:25AM. After about the 4,267th irrelevant yaks to others regarding such a trifling circumstance, I removed the application from my phone. 

A short time later, I disabled my account. 

In the week or so since I disabled it, roughly five of the two-hundred "friends" noticed such and felt compelled to inquire. I've offered explanations, but I'm sure they merely glossed over the details. The narratives they've developed are already etched in stone. He is blocking me and me alone. And that's fine, they're entitled to feel however they want. 

Just like I am. 

Popular posts from this blog

Bloggy Blog #84

The first time I visited, I had to park across the street in the lot of an abandoned gas station. The lot itself went up a slight hill, and the station's sign would occasionally spin some slow turns whenever the town spirits wanted to have some fun.  She lived in a questionably constructed building on the second floor of this sleepy Revolutionary War town, adjacent to a craft store that was hardly ever open. In the basement sat a four-lane bowling alley and a small bar. It was by appointment only, which really meant the building's landlord had to be there to serve drinks and keep an eye on the action. I didn't get a chance to bowl down there, but seeing the construction of the building, this was probably a good thing. When she moved out of her place, part of the process involved placing a three-foot wide plank over the bowling alley basement stairs, in order to move big furniture out. Needless to say she left the heavy lifting to the moving experts.  The new plac...
Read more

Bloggy Blog #17

     From 2001-03, I called the northwest corner of Louisiana my home. My initial foray into the real world was met with a trip halfway across the country - a trip that consisted of a thirty-six hour bus ride (with plenty of transfers in sketchy towns in between) and a friend in Little Rock who took me the rest of the way to the Pelican State. Prior to this, my only moment spent in the state was interviewing for the position. That was early June, where I hopped aboard a couple planes and was whisked away to campus for hours upon hours of interrogation. The interview process wasn't really that bad, but what was bad was my ill-fated idea to take a walk around campus shortly after the interview ended. I was drenched in sweat upon my return, completely oblivious that the humidity there stuck around much longer than it did back in upstate New York. Regardless, I was in love. I was in love with this idea of continuing (starting, maybe?) my life elsewhere. The first few weeks...
Read more

Bloggy Blog #19

    I was, to put it mildly, an absolutely disgusting high school cross-country runner. No, disgusting is not slang for good. I mean bad. Real bad. A teammate - who wasn't a very proficient runner himself - often competed in what appeared to be casual street shoes or cross trainers. During some races I finished behind him. This happened for a variety of reasons, none of which have to do with him probably being a better runner than me. The most critical reason why I often found myself in the middle or close to the end of the pack of meet competitors is the fact that at some point during the races, I just stopped caring. I mentally shut down. Gave up. Waved a white flag. Why the hell am I even here? , I'd ask myself. Literally hundreds of runners have passed me already, and I'm barely halfway through. There may have been a race or two where I actually stopped running once we got into the woods and knew there was no chance of anyone seeing me. I'd walk a couple steps,...
Read more