Community Update

"Turn off your mind, relax and float down stream.  It is not dying..."
- Tomorrow Never Knows, The Beatles

Tomorrow I will begin a journey into self discovery.  No, I am not joining an ashram, taking a new age class, or going on walkabout.  I am simply logging out of Facebook.

As we've all heard by now, the experts say it takes 21 days to make something a habit - so I'm going to attempt to get into the habit of living.   I have found in the past few months that my body is angry with me - I have pains where I didn't have pain before.  My head aches.  I get dizzy for no apparent reason. And, my blood pressure is rising as rapidly as the numbers of my scale.

At last physician's assessment - there wasn't really all that much wrong with me that couldn't be explained away by the inevitable. I have, after all, been pushed firmly into the land of middle age-- over the precipice, onto that downslope that leads into the land of AARP membership, Geritol and, lord help me, boxes and boxes of Clairol Nice and Easy.

So when we take away all of the potential medical/physical pitfalls (clear) - there's really only one good explanation for my discomfort.  Yep, you guessed it.  Facebook.   Now, I don't mean to put all the blame on Mark Z and his Social Network cronies.  Let's face it, I doubt any of them spends very much time on Facebook.  Just like any addiction, the substance isn't the issue - it's misuse.

Were we truly meant to know the every waking thought of every person we've ever known - and even some we don't?  Were our psyche's programed to filter out the knowledge that our best friend from college is now a born-again Christian, who spouts Fox News diatribe like it was a late addition chapter to The Bible?   Or, did I need to know that a former co-worker from a part time job I held in 1988 is now under investigation for domestic terrorism?  What about the fact that a friend's husband LOVES David Letterman and still thinks he was robbed of The Tonight Show?

Many things we read daily are innocuous.   Today for example:

• Dan D - posted a story about how people in Forks Township are outraged about a possible new McDonald's in their neighborhood
• Lucy L - let me know that there was a fire at a neighboring business in downtown Bethlehem
• Steve B - posted a picture of he and his wife on a date night in Atlantic City
• Steve D - told me of the upcoming demise of "Flappy Bird"
• Todd W - posted photos of his band's tour in Florida

But, somehow we, or at least I (I can't speak for you, of course) find myself getting irritated by things that aren't intentionally posted to provoke me:

• Who CARES if someone builds a McDonalds?  Perhaps the addition will create competition and drive more people to eat a small businesses.
• What would happen if MY small business caught fire in downtown Bethlehem?!
• Why am I not in Atlantic City having an awesome date night with my husband??
• I never even got to play Flappy Bird and now it's going away!
• Why am I stuck in ice-locked Pennsylvania writing this blog, while Todd is soaking up the sun in Naples AND getting to play awesome music with his bandmates?

These guys didn't do ANYTHING to rile me.  Yet, their sharp, pointy Facebook sticks are bruising me up and down, inside and out because I am inundated with information that makes my mind work over-time.  Good, bad, completely useless (Which "How I Met Your Mother Character AM I?), and hilarious  (Lady Parks in Guys Spot in Bethlehem, So He Snows Her In).

I run a small business with 40+ staff members, four locations and pile of paperwork from city, country, state and federal government that would make your head spin.  Facebook stress should be child's play - but sadly, it's the driest form of kindling piled on to a well-made fire.

So my experiment begins tomorrow.   I won't shut down social media completely.   I will blog daily.  I will post no more than twice daily to Twitter and I'll use Instagram as part of my documentation of my "drying out".    I hope you'll join me. Offer insight.  Suggestions.  Anecdotes.   Just no pointy sticks please.  My doctor says their hazardous to my health.  (Oh yes, and my husband's sanity.)