Facebook

I did it. I got an account on Facebook. I can't pinpoint what it was that made me do it. It might have been the few friends who asked recently if I was on it. It might have been a comment left on my blog from some old acquaintance who had tracked me down through Google. Or it might have been the fact that my fifty-six-year-old mother got an account and began tracking down old -- err, former -- school friends.

It seems weird having this blog, which I love to keep up with, and the Facebook account. Do I post pictures here and there? Do I communicate on friends' Facebook "walls" even though I email with them, too, or see them at work every day? It seems that the two venues serve different purposes, though. My blog is for me and for the people who are closest to me in life, the ones that aren't just friends on Facebook but day-to-day friends. And of course, the random people I've never met who read my blog and whose blog I read, despite the fact that we've never met and probably never will. For them, too. It's my open diary, if you will. Facebook is what fills the need to find people I knew five moves ago. It's an ego-booster -- people you don't remember but went to high school with ask to be your friend, and you convince yourself those three years weren't as bad as you thought they were (read: Fayetteville).

I haven't quite figured out how I'll balance my blogger self and my Facebook self (or, as my sister is inevitably thinking, my blogger Self and my Facebook Self). For now, I'll try out both my selves and see how it goes.