All my exes live in cyberspace

I'm a big fan of Facebook. I love that I can keep in touch with friends and family I wouldn't otherwise talk to. I enjoy looking at other people's photos and commenting on statuses. I appreciate that more than 500 people have called me friend.

Facebook has even changed the face of dating. No longer are we forced to trust our well-meaning friends when they talk about a guy's great personality when trying to arrange a blind date, because chances are, he has a Facebook profile we can peruse. We can discover his hobbies, likes and dislikes, and, if we're really lucky, we may stumble onto a few hundred photos of him to browse.

But one of the thorniest issues to me is whether or not to friend your exes. Granted, it's fun to look at their profiles and see if they've gained weight or lost hair, but do you really want to know what he's doing 24/7 unless you're stalking him?

Someone I know has an ex who sends her a friend request every Thanksgiving and she's declined it five years running. I suppose the phrase "I never want to talk to you again" didn't sink in for him.

I admit to being friends with a couple of exes on Facebook, one of whom occasionally makes comments on my wall that make me uncomfortable. I didn't really have a problem accepting his friend request since I'm totally over him and am genuinely happy for him on his marriage, and I don't spend hours pouring over his posts and tracking his every move. That's probably because things didn't end badly. In fact, I don't even remember why we broke up. But that doesn't mean that his wife would find it cool that he's sending private messages to his ex-girlfriend. And I don't find it cool, either.

One of my exes actually has a fan page on Facebook (throwing up in my mouth here). I've never received an invite to become a fan (trust me, I am so not a fan), but a friend of mine did, and he found it hilarious before hitting "decline."

So yeah, I may spend time looking at profiles of exes on Facebook, but do I accept their friend requests? On one condition: if I no longer wish them ill. After all, I'd rather be updated about random people I barely know than ones I know too well and regret wasting time on.

The write stuff

I find the blogosphere quite intriguing. I suppose it feeds my narcissistic belief that all the world needs to know what I'm thinking, or perhaps I merely find it a creative outlet for the many random thoughts in my head, but I seldom stop to think about why I blog. I just do.

Whenever I'm gliding along in my ultra-fashionable and exciting life and have a profound thought, I feel the need to write it down. Share it with others. Impress you with my wit and insight. So I publish it on the "interstate" (as Peyton would say) for all the world to read. Occasionally even Google finds me profound enough to track, for the G-girl does love her some fresh content. (Yes, Google is a girl, because she gives you options and lets you choose what you want to do instead of making a decision for you and then dismissing you. But I digress.)

This past week, on the one day I actually showered, dressed and went to the office, I found myself on a conference call discussing how I use social media. Do I tweet? Way too often. Do I Facebook? Too many hours to count.

Am I published? Not in a traditional sense. But I do write a totally thought-provoking and informative blog, and I have over three faithful readers.

So no. No hardbound leather book exists with my name on the spine, but thank you to the handful of folks who diligently care what I think, what I say, and how I am.

Publish, smublish. I am a writer.

Social media and the implosion of reality

Evidently some groom recently updated his Facebook status while still at the altar. On the one hand, that makes me feel much better about my social media addiction. On the other, it concerns me for the future of our society and our need to be constantly wired.

Granted, it did make sitting in traffic in Bentonville at 5 p.m. this afternoon a little more tolerable since I was able to tweet about it during my inching forward (yes, I know it's illegal... shut up). I suppose that's what most of this boils down to after all. Social media has become a venue for the narcissist in all of us to make ourselves heard. Let's face it, when 72 people are reading your 140-character updates 27 times a day, they care about your innermost thoughts, right? They want to know what I had for dinner. How I feel about work. What I think about Alex Tejada missing that field goal.

And so it validates us. Some of life's biggest weirdos have a lot of so-called friends on Facebook. Anyone can be cool in cyberspace I suppose.

But at the end of the day, all the tweets and status updates and text messages in the world don't make up for human interaction. Isn't that right, random person reading this whom I don't know?

Memory lane

Been scanning in some pics, so I posted some of my favorites on Facebook. In case you don't have access, here's the link. Enjoy!

Flattery will get you everywhere

Thanks for all of the sweet comments on here and on Facebook yesterday and today. You guys are too nice, and you totally motivated me to get off my lazy butt and drag out the yoga mat tonight. Granted, I ate chips right afterward, but still...

I think I'm still recovering from my wild weekend, because I was totally dragging this morning. I was up late baking cookies last night and I showed the house to someone at 9:30 p.m. (they loved it but are not ready to buy). I had a ton of excess energy that seemed to dissipate by this morning, when I was awakened by the 4 a.m. storm and not able to go back to sleep until nearly 6.

I worked from home most of today which is great in theory, but always means I spend more than 8 hours at my laptop. I finally stopped writing around 7, when I unrolled the yoga mat and took out my frustrations on downward facing dog. Thankfully tomorrow's a (relatively) short day, and with a late meeting on campus, I'll be at home early enough to work out and catch up on my DVR a bit. This commute is going to kill me when fall TV starts.

Obviously my creative juices are dry after writing web content all day, so you'll have to excuse my lame attempt at blogging. However, if you'd like me to espouse the merits of college enrollment, I can write about that all day.

All for now. I'm crashing for the night.