Quit Facebook

I have decided to quit Facebook.

Not that I am an employee of Facebook.  Quit as in, quit being a FB stalker.

I used to stalk those few friends who are pretty much alike to myself.  New mummies like myself – how do they cope with their new little ones?  Has it been in grace, or was it shagged like me?  Long lost friends who turned mummy too – girls who you thought would climb up the corporate ladder because they were pretty and smart in school last time, but now staying home to look after their toddler twos.  The daily screaming at their kids; the looking forward to the 11 public holidays and 52 Sundays so that they can take a breather from the four walls and the kids.   Colleagues, or rather ex-colleagues, who are still child-less after many years of trying – now seek companionship with pets just so to fill that void while waiting.  My girl friends, who couldn’t manage to jio me out for the past 2 years because of all the reasons associated with Baby1 – now went on holidays and outings on their own without even asking me liao.  Oh, they went Taiwan, and Bali and Sentosa and Henderson Bridge and so on and so on….

And then there were those friends who got very enthusiastic during the elections.  Every few hours it was a Youtube video here, or an article there, or their own thoughts.  And even an innocent thinking-out-aloud from someone normal invoked a string of arguments with 48 comments – just because she is only thinking out aloud, no puns intended not like yourself wor.

Haiz, I have already said before, Facebook in our society now, has become an avenue for the individual to express their own thoughts.  It is usually because no one else is interested to hear what you have to say; no one is keen to know how lonely or despondent you are; no one wants to know what you had for lunch, or where you went, that’s why you had to post pictures of your food and keep clicking on the Check In at every shopping centre or restaurant.

Sad to say, I seem to enjoy more of such laments, because it makes me feel sorry for you, so that I don’t feel sorrier for myself.

Enough.  Why do I have to compare to order to feel that I should actually be grateful for the things that I have?  I don’t need to gloat that your kids are so naughty to know that my Baby1 is actually such a darling.  At 15.5 months, she’s already trying to learn to say “bao bei” like what mummy always call her!  And I don’t need to feel jealous that you ate a $200 teppanyaki meal for two, or is currently in Zurich on honeymoon, because I am actually quite satisfied with my $3.50 kway chup, and am proud that we have survived a Taiwan and cruise trip when Baby1 was only 10 months old.

Facebook is a bad bad place, at least for me.  So I must learn to quit it, and appreciate what I have without comparing with you.

– Dear2


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