I’ve decided to take a Facebook holiday. I’m not sure how long it will last. Perhaps only a day or two, maybe a week or two, we shall see. I need a break, that’s clear. I think I’ve soaked up too many annoying, worrying, frightening and gruesome images and stories to last a lifetime and need to clean off my mental blackboard and leave it to lay fallow for a while … just to thoroughly mix my metaphors.
There are a number of things that have lead to this decision. For a start, I have had a headache every day for the last week and I suspect this is being caused partly by staring at this damned screen for way longer than is healthy, but in the main by being wound up, frustrated and angry, on a near permanent basis. Only have to take a brief scan down the main wall and in minutes, I’m raging about one thing or another and getting the pulsing vein in my temple like stressed Eric. Not healthy.
Between having graphic pictures of murder and mayhem stuck in my head that make “The Exorcist” look like a kid’s movie and a sickly pain in my upper arm that jolts me awake every couple of hours, which I suspect is the onset of Facebook RSI, sleep is not coming easy and when it does, it is broken, littered with nightmares and I wake up feeling more exhausted than when I went to bed.
All of this is leading to another reason for taking a holiday and that is my temper getting out of my control. People are entitled to their opinions – even when those opinions are stupid – but I’m beginning to lose sight of that and here and there I find myself ripping into folks when they probably don’t deserve it. Then I regret it, swear that I will calm it down and twenty minutes later, I’m verbally (if writing counts as verbal) battering someone else. Then I regret it – and blah, blah, blah.
I think I’m far from being the only one who does this. With all that is going on in the world, with all that is being inflicted on every one of us by cuntish bankers, cuntish greedy rich people, cuntish totalitarian bureaucrats in Brussels and those mega cunts in parliament, I think a large proportion of us are in a constant state of irritation – to say the very least – and that millions of sets of teeth are being ground and many stiff necks being rubbed, even as I write.
I’m sure you’ve seen it yourself. A thread will be running with a mild debate and a little joking around and then suddenly a comment appears calling everyone a bunch of fucking retards and ranting and raving out of all proportion to anything that has gone before. Hands up, I’m guilty – and doubly guilty when I’m dumb enough to flirt with the barmaid’s apron for a few hours and then log on to Facebook, inhibitions lowered, one eye shut, looking for an argument.
I’m good with words and I can argue a point from almost any angle. Not everyone can, which means I’m capable of tying people in knots even if I’m wrong (obviously an occurrence as rare as a blue moon, but nonetheless…). It’s not too far from bullying and I have no wish to become a bully and although I am a man of passionate opinions, I also don’t want to become Mr Angry; not all of the time anyway. My blood pressure isn’t benefiting from this constant ill temper either and I can get a doctor’s note to prove it!
So a Facebook holiday is in order. I took one a while back, but I don’t think I did it for long enough and although I stopped posting and commenting, I cheated and still looked in for an occasional fix of upsetting stories and conspiracy videos and all that accomplished was to piss me off, but without the outlet of a good rant. This time, I want to stay clear completely to give my brain time to cool down and reboot. It will also benefit me by not having to keep buying top ups on my data allowance and being broker than a broke man from broke street, brokesville, planet broke, that is a very good thing.
How long my determination will last is debateable. My life gets pretty boring these days and evening television is a bigger pile of crap than Facebook, but without the interaction. Then there’s the chance of me falling off the wagon and Mr Stella taking control of my actions, with Mr Mischief egging him on. We shall see, I guess, and if I’m back on within 24 hours you and I will both know I’m more addicted to Facebook than I like to think.
Perhaps I’ll spend some time working on my blog, or I could go and revisit my old Myspace page that has lain abandoned for 18 months. Unlike Facebook, Myspace has lots of blogs and opinion pieces, but without the constant stream of upsetting videos and aggravating news items. Or – and here’s a radical idea – I could put my coat on and go outside. I know outside is still where I left it. I can see it from my window. Today might not be the best time to begin venturing back out into the outside as it is persistently pouring, or pissing down as it’s often know, but still the basic plan isn’t such a bad one.
I could even pay a visit to the library before they shut it down, or maybe take a walk in the park before it fills up with litter and all the fences fall over from disrepair; or just generally go for a stroll before all the police are in the job centre and the feral youth take over the streets completely. Who knows, if I’m really, really, really lucky, I might bump into someone who can speak English and have a chat with them. More chance of winning a tenner on the lottery, but you never know…
I’ll be back, question is when. I’m already bored.
TTFN – or ta ta for now, as Jimmy Young used to say.