the no facebook resolution

One New Year’s Resolution that I’m determined to follow-through is disabling my Facebook account for the year 2013. I had it since 2005, and while I disabled on and off weeks at a time, I’m going to do so for a longer period of time. A year.

I feel the slight strain already. A cousin wondered in her words of my “sudden disappearance” while a friend called me to say that he was mildly surprised when he was unable to invite me to his upcoming birthday. At work, a colleague asked how she can contact me for future gatherings; it seems Facebook was more useful than emailing.

Everyone has their own reasons for using Facebook, whether it be keeping in touch with friends, or sharing wedding photos, or playing Farmville, or stalking old flames. Not every motive is pure.

I began to feel uncomfortable how Facebook was packaging my so-called social life into something tangible, something that can be weighed by likes and comments. On top of that, news of friends and acquaintances (dating, partying, getting hired or married, and having a child) paraded down the endless newsfeed. I know it shouldn’t bother me and play on my insecurities, it shouldn’t. I should instead be glad for those experiencing good fortune. A part of me is, but it is a difficult task to shoo jealousy and resentment off the cliff.

With this time off Facebook, it gives me the space to enjoy the life I have and become a person I aspire to be without the glaring eye of the Social Network looking down on me and pressuring me to keep up with the Joneses.

Also, I’ll admit some part of last year I had one of those meltdown moments. Let me put it in another way. Familiar with the teenage phase associated with rebellion and angst? I thought my phase was finished back in high school during the days of Xanga, but somehow, it found its way into my status messages. In hindsight, this is when a pen, paper, blog, and anonymity (recommended, but don’t abuse it by trolling) would be much more helpful than standing on a virtual soapbox.

Just the other day, I was intrigued to preview the Doritos Crash the Super Bowl ads. It led me to its Facebook page and gently prodded me to log in. Somehow, I was still able to view it without having to do so, and if you were to be a prude and pin me on breaking my Facebook abstinence, this would be that moment. Other than that, I can assure you that I did not reactivate my account like how a guy returns back to his ex-girlfriend with a tail behind his legs.

So what’s keeping me sane, my nicotine patch?

Yelp. Yup, Yelp.

For a long time, I wasn’t interested in this foodie craze. I checked the reviews every now and then, but not willing to create an account and write some reviews. Well, I guess now I’m eating crow at Told Ya So, which I give it one star for not cooking it medium-well so I can digest it properly.

Yelp is mainly about restaurants, stores, and attractions. It’s just some thoughts of the places I’ve been to. I don’t feel like my whole social life is on the table to be examined and probed.

I do find Yelp’s check-in feature unsettling. Like it’s my personal parole officer obsessed with my eating and shopping habits.

And yes, there’s this blog as well where I can think and write. I’m aware there’s the likes and comment as well, but I perceive it as connecting my readers with my thoughts and words.