Saturday, September 24, 2011

Open Letter to Facebook

Dear Mark Zuckerberg and/or Facebook (oh wait. you're the same thing, aren't you?),
Hi. My Name's Ren--oh wait. You already know my first and last names, don't you? And my middle name. And my hometown, place of current residence, all my friends' names, where I go to school, all my places of employment (past and present), what kind of dog I have, and whether I prefer the Backstreet Boys or NSYNC.
Seriously. This is getting ridiculous. I mean, I absolutely adore the fact that I have a public platform where I can peacock around, parading profile picture after pretty profile picture in front of all my friends and acquaintances. And I'm tickled pink to have a venue where I can grace all my family and frenemies with my delightful witticisms in the forms of hourly statuses. But still. Enough is enough, right? Facebook, you've reached new levels of creepyishness/invasive-ivity. That little ticker on my homepage? Yeah? That's just uncomfortable/nervewracking/makes me squeamish. Because I know that anything, literally anything I do will show up on someone's ticker a.k.a. their Stalker Station. No thanks.
Plus also, I've had no less than four friends "suggest" that I add my college location to my profile. Oh, Facebook/Mark Zuckerberg, I see the game that you're playing. I see it. And I quit. Facebook, you are a narcissistic waste of time, and although I may be slightly addicted to you, I see right through you to the disgusting, voyeuristic soul underneath your sleek, sexy and shiny exterior. If I had slightly more will-power I might walk away from this relationship all together, but I just can't quit you.
One day. One day I will.


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