
This is your brain on drugs.
The other day a Facebook acquaintance posted to ask if anyone else had found themselves bored and deciding to check Facebook before realizing they were already on the site. My truthful answer to that was yes. More than once.
It got me thinking: Maybe it was time to take a break. So I set a little goal, just for the hell of it: I’d go a full 24 hours without once looking at the old Facebook feed. That shouldn’t be hard, right? I think it was less than an hour later that I found myself once again idly perusing the memes and noble causes and amusing photographs of animals. I hadn’t made a conscious decision to abandon the vow; just by force of habit I found myself on Facebook with no memory of having gone there.
So now sterner measure are in order. Now it’s a question of proving oneself master of one’s domain. Starting today I’m off Facebook for a week. (Raising hands to quell the howls of protest.) I do this with a heavy heart, but come on: If Facebook is really becoming a lower brain function, right down there with breathing, intervention might be overdue. I’m starting to understand why this service is worth all the billions envisioned in the upcoming IPO: not only do we provide all the content for free, but we may be literally powerless to stop doing it.
And when I say “we,” I mean you. Yes, I’m posting this, but then I’m shutting it down. To guard against “accidentally” accessing the site, I’m removing the Facebook app from my iPhone and trashing the bookmark on both computers. This time I’m not screwing around. If any insights accrue from this self-imposed deprivation, maybe I’ll write about it. Naturally, all the great service you’ve come to expect from the Warehouse will continue as before. Just not on Facebook.
So long. You want to get in touch, you have my e-mail. See you on Valentine’s Day.
Good luck, Dave.
Ha! Luck has nothing to do with it.