Why I told Facebook to shove itself up its own ass

Today has been a day of activity. I went to class, then went straight to a comfortable seat in HUB mall, sat down and did something I'd been thinking about for a long time.

I deleted my facebook account.

I didn't like FB when I signed up for it last year. The only reason I joined was that I thought I could make more friends than Chloe and then rub it in her face. Then she became managing editor while I've wallowed in close-to-graduation obscurity for the last six months. I have no idea how many FB friends she currently has, but I'd guess that her numbers hit the triple digit mark a long time ago. In the friend-making contest we were having, she destroyed me. No question about that.

There were a few factors that pushed me over the edge with FB. First, it was the amount of friends that it said I had. Something around 80, I think. That's a lie. I can guarantee you that I don't have 80 friends. I wasn't comfortable with this. What broke the camel's back (translated, the camel's back means my opinion of Facebook) for me though, was FB over the last few weeks. People that I never really hung out with when I went to high school started tracking me down and every time I logged in I would hope that someone else hadn't found me. My FB wall had suddenly become an online version of Christmas time at a Fort Mac bar, where people were having the same forced conversations that you don't want to be having but feel obligated to because you can't find the friends you came with and you're standing face to face with this person from your past: So what are you doing these days? Do you still talk with so and so? Married? Have any kids?

Lastly, while I can't prove it, I'm almost 100% certain that the government was using Facebook to track me and eventually try to kill me.

In sum, the FB account is gonzo. If you want to talk with me, call me or email me. I've got all the free time in the world, now that I'm not checking my FB homepage every ten minutes.