Feral Geographer

i joined f@cebook today, after many years of resistance.  i gave in because i never know about any of the parties or bike rides or even the protests anymore, because i’m in school all the time and no one talks about these things face to face like they used to.  (let alone the old promo techniques from my anarcho-punk-activisty days in toronto… phone trees?  handbills? wheat-paste postering expeditions? what are those?!!)

le sigh: the end of an era.

my original objection to the whole thing was the idea that some corporation would know who my friends are.  then, once my paranoia settled down into the dull background roar that accompanies my everyday life like a really bad musical score, i decided that i just don’t have time for it.  my anonymous pseudonym online life (this one!) has become so very very rich and connected that i didn’t want anything else competing with it:  certainly not friend requests from the kids who bullied me in elementary school, and *definitely* nothing from the ones i went on to bully in high school (bullying creates bullies, let this be a leason to you!).

but i *do* want to get involved with planning the annual anniversary party for the local community bike shop, and i want to know about the potlucks and dance-a-thons and late night bike rides and all the other things that are happening with my friends, and it looks like this is the means to that end.  not participating was not getting me anywhere.

so here i am:  connecting, socially, online, with people who know my face and my real name and where i live.  it still weirds me out, but i’m trying not to think about it too hard.