Goodbye Facebook

A month ago I did something crazy. I left Facebook.
Now to be honest, I'm not entirely sure who will read this blog as in the past my readers were all my Facebook friends. So welcome reader! You are either my mother who checks my blog relatively regularly despite my poor dedication levels or you are some stranger who has happened across this post by accident on some virtual adventure.
This isolation is, I suppose, one of the downsides of being deactivated as a social media presence. How will I hear about all the parties now? Who will invite me to hen dos or theatre performances? From where will my liberal political views gain their evidence? How will I find out what my friends' lives hold?
The only answer I can hope for here is: real life.
This will take a little more effort on my part. At the moment I am happily living in a bubble of semi-ignorance but of course that cannot continue. With isolation comes ossification and I did not leave Facebook to become out of touch. It may sound counter-intuitive but I left Facebook to feel more involved, more connected, more engaged.
What I hope for is that without the easy option of browsing my friends' walls, I will be more likely to pick up the phone (which I have always been very awkward about using....ummmm.....), or better, arrange to meet. We can have the joy of giving news in person instead of being met with "oh yes, I saw that on Facebook." I can hear the good and the bad: stories about holidays instead of just the perfectly posed pictures; worries that never make it to that not-real world because they don't require a 'like' but a cup of tea and a hug; spur of the moment jokes; debates about the minutiae of life however profound or silly they might be.
I also hope I will read the news, watch documentaries, look with my own eyes and form my own opinions instead of relying what Facebook gives me: carefully selected guardian articles, petitions, armchair activism that means nothing. Yes those sources are valid and I often share the leanings I see on my wall but I don't feel truly equipped to be sure of my opinion that way.
I've been gone for a month now and I'm sure very few people have noticed that I am. But I have noticed that instead of scanning my news feed when I'm on the bus, I observe the world I am passing through. Instead of wasting time clinking on all those silly articles about what child stars are doing now, I am reading a book or playing the ukulele or colouring or...
However!! I can hardly get on my high horse about this. I am still on Instagram. I do waste a little time every few days scanning through the National Geographic posts or getting holiday envy for the travel bloggers. Nobody's perfect and I like the pretty pictures, OK?!
But I do feel so good for claiming some of my life back. I have freed myself from online so that I have time...to blog. Ha!

Not the Fairy Anymore

It's a funny thing isn't it, Facebook? Often annoying and frustrating but it's strangely addictive. Boring yet compelling. But despite its faults it made me realise something quite wonderful yesterday. My life is better now than it was before.
I often feel like nothing has changed for me. I have so far managed to avoid making any major decisions about my life and now that I'm definitely shimmying my way into my late twenties it seems to be quarter-life crisis time. What exactly have I achieved? Why do I want everything and yet nothing in particular? Why does everyone have goals and I don't? You read magazine articles about this stuff so I know I'm not the only one.
And yet, I look on Facebook and all my old school friends seem to be incredibly successful; my acquaintances are constantly on holiday; someone just won the Nobel Prize for Physics. That kind of thing.
Well yesterday, at the top of my Newsfeed this picture appeared:

"This was you four years ago today."
Putting aside the creepy omniscience of this function I was suddenly incredibly happy not to be that me anymore.
You can't tell but this picture shows me very angry, and for someone who is never angry that's quite a big statement. I had to wear that stupid costume so many times. It smelled bad because it was never cleaned; it was too big so was always gaping and yet too small so if I ever had to pick something up off the floor anywhere near pervy boss man...it was uncomfortable. Everyone knew I hated that outfit. I refused to wear it so often and yet here I am putting it on again.
One time my manager didn't even tell me I'd have to go on stage in it to present awards, the client sprang it on me by thanking me in advance for "agreeing" to help out. Gritted teeth: "Oh! No problem."
Can I add that this was a waitressing job? Waitressing not performing. As the fairy, I still had to do all the normal running around but I had to do it in wings and stockings and a forced smile. And I wasn't paid any extra. That was the most galling thing I think. If I was hired to do that in my capacity as a dancer it would've been quite a nice little earner probably. Enough for Christmas presents anyway.
Although actually I'm wrong. The most galling thing was that even though I complained, in the end I still did it when I should have stood up for myself or slammed the door in their face.
It wasn't only the fairy. It was a strange time in my life and the fairy has come to represent everything I didn't like about it: doing things that I didn't want to do instead of things I did. So silly of me!
And now? Perhaps I don't have my dream job but I'm treated well. I don't feel as challenged as I'd like but I watch amazing artists, play games and tell stories. And crucially I'm not the fairy anymore. I left a bit of life that made me angry and never looked back. It's a tiny thing but four-years-ago me is very happy because of it.
So thanks Facebook. That was a nice reminder.

Jobs (many many jobs) and why you should give one of them to me.

I'm procrastinating.
Almost an hour ago I sat down to do some work and instead I've made myself a cup of tea, caught up with My Dad Wrote a Porno, wandered around the house in an aimless fashion and now I find myself blogging. It's amazing what you catch up on when you are avoiding filling out application forms.
I'm sure you all know the feeling. I'm sick of my own address. I'm even more sick of my (lack of) qualifications and employment history. It's hard work spinning dancing, giving people food and standing around in case a building burns down into an array of employable attributes. But I'm persevering and one day I'll be rewarded. I will. Yes.
Of course the application form is only the first step. There are cover letters to be written: a fresh one for each of the many jobs I really want and am absolutely perfect for.  I want no one but you, I swear!
And getting through that bit brings us to the real trauma of interview time. How is it that they always ask you questions that you don't know the answer to? Maybe more appropriately, how is it that I find I don't know the answer to such basic questions as "why do you want this job?"
"....because it will pay enough for me to go on holiday?..." BUZZZZ. Incorrect. Try again.
"....because...erm...I'm really calm under pressure so...what was the question again?"
"...so I read the advert on Arts Jobs and yes...um."
And seconds before the phone rang or I walked into this peculiar meeting I knew exactly why I wanted that job. It was because it sounded like something that I would enjoy and be challenged by and I would like myself for doing it. And despite the advert saying I need a degree, a thousand years of experience and ambitions to save the world, I believe I could do the job well. Just as well as anyone else. It is simply unfortunate that my biggest weakness (because we all know about that classic question) is a complete inability to sell myself.
But it's something I'm working on. (Apparently that's the key, you know: self-knowledge followed by self-improvement. A handy hint for the future from me to you.)
To prove I am working on this difficult self-promotion, here are some strengths for your reading pleasure.

1. I don't give up. I sat here for a surprisingly long time thinking of these strengths. I did not go and make myself another tea, and I did not delete the challenge I just imposed on myself.
2. Sometimes I write silly poems or draw funny pictures or make fairy cakes which I will share with you. That is not bribery. 
3. I am unafraid to eat the last Jaffa Cake. None of this "you have it, no, you have it." I will be very decisive and bold. I may not always know what I want but I always want Jaffa Cakes.
4. Despite my lack of proof on the matter I am actually a bit clever/not unintelligent/a smart cookie (pick whichever makes me sound modest yet confident- I struggled). I regularly get more than five answers correct on University Challenge. Sometimes I beat the contestants. Boom!
5. This morning I deleted the Facebook app from my phone. If that doesn't take great strength I don't know what does. My five year plan involves leaving altogether. Don't let anyone tell you I don't have ambitions.

Obviously the list could go on and on but I don't want to seem vain. No one likes a bighead. 

But wait! People Google people now don't they? It's a strange new world and perhaps I shouldn't write about my job hunt whilst job hunting. Or is this an opportunity? If you are reading this potential employer I should at least say:
I love you! Pick me, pick me!! 

Deleting friends

How satisfying is a clear out? You buy stuff, you collect, hoard, can't let it go. "Maybe I'll wear it again...?" You think, "I can't get rid of it, I used to love it. The holes mean nothing to me."

And then one day you start to tidy up, sort out, make a pile for charity, and suddenly you can't stop and your wardrobe is 50% smaller and you start to complain you have nothing to wear.

Cathartic, isn't it? 

Well, this weekend I did just this. Instead of clothes though, I had a Facebook sort out, and once I'd started deleting friends I couldn't stop. I'm still going back to the list to de-friend just one more. It's an addiction.

The first to go were people I didn't know/recognise. I thought I didn't have any of those so they were a bit bewildering to find. Next was anyone particularly annoying, whiny, a little bit too racist.. Then people I wasn't really friends with at school, people who I'm sure are equally unlikely to wonder what I'm doing with my life as I am for them. 

And of course people I just didn't like. 

Oh, and a couple who I actually do like, are interesting but invite me to some event or other every 2 days. 

I felt mean. I felt powerful. I felt godlike. "Like flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport." Except somewhat less violent. 

I wondered briefly if anyone would notice, or care if they did. I suspect not. 

It's possible my reader numbers will take a hit. I can only wait and see.

All was going swimmingly and most satisfyingly until I realised that I had been defriended! What? Someone I used to work with and was actually quite close to. Someone who once tried to spoon me. That crossed line I forgave him for. This is unforgivable. I would defriend him immediately if he hadn't already got me first.

So I'm curious to know what his reasons were for a clear out, and why I didn't make the cut. Did I complain too much? Did I post too many self-indulgent and badly spelled blogs? Or did he just decide he didn't like me after all?

I can't ask him. If he's not on Facebook he doesn't exist anymore. You know how it works...you aren't real if you aren't there. I can't even remember his name now. 

But does that mean I don't exist now for all those people I deleted? 

I don't think I mind that actually. So farewell Facebook friends. I probably won't see you around, which is exactly the point really.