When I signed up for Facebook in 2008, I saw it as a way to connect with old friends and keep up with the self-affirming things everyone was posting about themselves. What I did not expect was that Facebook would become a place where people worked through life-and-death issues. But then Nan Taylor died.
The other day, someone posted a rant on Facebook in which they laid down the law about certain people who have a particular lame habit, which I shall not name here. The point is, their rant totally applied to me, and I involuntarily felt defensive.
If my parents had owned smartphones in the 1980s, I’d probably have more photos of my childhood – but as it stands, there are about 37 of them (including school pictures). Sometimes I feel a little sorry for myself, but lately, I’ve been feeling more sorry for my own children.
I thought I would never purchase an iPhone. I figured I didn’t need it (I had a perfectly functional cell phone), and I was afraid if I got one, I would end up like those annoying iPhone users who were constantly checking their phone like they were looking for their own vital signs. But it was the camera that got me.