The cure

I read a fact on Twitter about a month ago. It concerned Facebook and was something along the lines of: “Women with Facebook profiles tend to have lower self-esteem.”

Needless to say, I deactivated my account later that week.

I’ve been off Facebook for almost a month. It has been a refreshing one. I’m finding that I now spend more time studying, reading and going outside as opposed to logging in to see what my friends are up to. I design more on my computer and blog more. I have more ideas now.

I don’t have low self-esteem, but I wasn’t about to start having it. I built my self-esteem up for years and don’t want anything to bring me down. Facebook brought me down.

The people on Facebook make me angry. One time I clicked on someone I was supposed to have known, via the “People You May Know” tool. Boy, was that an experience. I definitely did not know her, but several of my Facebook friends were friends with her. I decided to check her out. I couldn’t help but screenshot (bet she never thought of someone doing that) one of the statuses this girl posted:

Younger teens like this make me not want to be on Facebook at all. The Facebook profile pictures that popped up on my sidebar showed more tweens than I thought possible, and they’re not mature enough to even have a Facebook account. Kids like this girl on the left are why cyberbullying exists and why thousands of kids commit suicide every year after being harassed on the Internet.

Kids at this girl’s age cannot even spell words or use grammar correctly to get his/her useless point across.

Kids at this girl’s age – including this girl – don’t seem to realize that there are privacy settings on Facebook that he/she might want to look into. Anyone can go in and read what this girl plasters on her wall. If the supposed “dumb bitch” referenced in the status ended up going missing or found dead somewhere, based on Facebook evidence, this girl could be a suspect. The status, not to mention the horrible comments that followed, could be the proof that police need. Yeah, bet she didn’t think of that.

I am disgusted by what people post on a network that was built to help people reconnect. Now it’s just pissing people like me off.

We’re not in high school anymore, fellow members of the Class of 2011, so grow up. What really gets me is when I see photos posted from a party in my hometown in which several college kids are featured. Everyone from my hometown claims that they can’t wait to leave the place and go to college… so why the hell are you going back to party with the high schoolers? It is especially incredulous to me when even older kids still party with kids in high school. Stay at college. Party at a place where you don’t have to think about how you’re going to get home to your parents’ house safely. (Dear Danielle, who the hell are you? Sincerely, Emily.)

Another thing about Facebook: It’s a huge brag fest. Everyone’s trying to one-up everyone else. Parents get involved on Facebook and all they do is brag about their children.

In short, I’m sick of the ever-popular “new hair,” tongue-sticking-out, bathroom pic (oh hey, there’s your toilet!), sky shot (where we can clearly see your arms), “Edited” photos in everyone’s Facebook photo albums. I’m sick of the Iam Anidiot Photography pages, where a kid has instagram on his/her phone and then is suddenly a professional photographer and offers services for senior pictures. I’m sick of living with these people (not necessarily the lovely girls on my floor) and then seeing them in their slutty, “Going Out!” pictures when I log in on Facebook in my bedroom.

I deactivated my Facebook. I’m cured.

Giant flip flops

I just tossed and turned for over half an hour. On nights like these, I tend to get out of bed and do something somewhat useful while my eyes are open. Why waste perfectly good time?

I read for a little while until the clock’s proclaimed time of 1:00 a.m. alarmed me. I should be sleeping, I thought. So I tried. I lay there, changing positions, switching arms, fluffing up my pillows.

Smoke wafted in through my open window. I fight the urge to scream out my window every time I smell it. Before our old R.D. left, people were not allowed to smoke outside on the stoop outside my window. Now that he’s gone, they don’t seem to care anymore. Sometimes marijuana floats up and into my lungs. I’m left with a headache and the prompt to deliver a nice “fuck you.”

I got up and shut my window, stifling the scream I wanted so badly to shriek. I heard the outside door open and close. Footsteps up the stairs next to my room followed. I opened my window again.

It’s quarter to 2:00. I haven’t seen this hour since Easter break. I spent all day today (technically yesterday) studying and stressing about statistics. It struck me as funny that, though I loathe statistics, I obsess over viewing “My Stats” on my blog.

On a different note, I squashed an ant today. It approached my foot, so I squished it. I heard it crackle under my grey flip flop. To my surprise, it scurried away as soon as I lifted my foot. It looked damaged, sure, but it still managed to get away from me and further harm.

I yearn to have the resilience of that ant. It sounds silly, but I gave it a lot of credit for carrying on. Too many people give up after little things. At least we never have to deal with getting crushed by a giant flip flop.