Dear Facebook,
I hope you know that I have tried very hard to like the new you that you have served to me on your Ethernet platter. You have even garnished your serving with a great variety of tantalizing tidbits, all intended to please me.
I’m sorry, Facebook, but I am not pleased. All this involves change, and these days I am leery of change.
Change involves energy and I’m conserving mine. Yes, I know I am usually sitting down when I’m scrolling through Facebook, making that a low-energy project, but I’m referring to the energy my brain’s going to use as I sort through all the benefits being offered by your new look.
And, yes, I realize the brain needs exercise, lots of exercise, to ward off those dreadful things that happen when the brain is allowed to become idle. I read all this kind of stuff. That’s why I’m stingy in using my brain’s energy on your changed system; I need to put my brain’s energy toward keeping up with these latest brain-improvement projects.
I’m sorry, Facebook. Keeping up with your whims is not on my brain-improvement list.
But Facebook, I am annoyed that you have taken my friendship for granted. I am surprised that you did not realize that I would be vexed by your taking every click on the keyboard, every link I have followed, every “like” I have clicked, to create a computer image of Dannie Woodard. Didn’t you even care? So many relationships have ended this way. It’s sad.
Ah yes. Facebook, you rascal you, I remember the occasional innocent questions you’ve asked, the new opportunities that have been introduced. Now I understand! All were a prelude to the biggest opportunity of all…that of navigating the new Facebook and facing the challenges of finding an option that will protect the remnants of our privacy.
You know so much about me, Facebook: your computer brain has analyzed all my keyboard clicks, you know where I live, my age, that I’m Caucasian and female. That last should have warned you. A woman can be helpless or capable, she can be fickle or faithful. She may be stuck in one persona or she may be as changeable as the weather. So remember, Facebook, that what you think I am may be changed by tomorrow. Please don’t assume you know my preferences. Remember…tomorrow I turn a fresh page.
Dannie
PS. I am so thankful that I did not write this when I was angry.
