Thriller

Last week, I eavesdropped on a woman and man at an East Village, Manhattan, coffeeshop. Him: a web designer and computer expert; her: a yoga instructor. He was teaching her how to use Facebook, as she won an "Introduction to Facebook Lesson" in an auction at her daughter's school. He left, she closed up her lap top, packed up, coated up, and started for the door. This is when I stopped her, and learned most of the above details.

I told her I was jealous that she was Facebook free. That she had managed to live this many years without being so overly plugged in. She said she knew it was a blessing and a curse. That anything she resists in life, she realizes she must address - yoga instructor jargon, of course. We chatted a bit more. I told her it was addictive, but also crucial for marketing her yoga studio. That's just how it is, these days, we both agreed. And she left.

A few years ago I met a man at Starbucks, also in the East Village. We talked about the publishing world - I was writing my first book manuscript at the time - and we exchanged information. He only had a land line, and a mailing address - no email. He called himself a Luddite. Of course, he was, ironically, frequenting Starbucks. I think of him from time to time, when I can't pull my fingers or face away from my BlackBerry or Facebook or Twitter or my email inbox.

I have a handful of close friends that aren't on Facebook. I envy that sometimes, assuming they must still have some control and autonomy in their lives. That they must be more productive as artists and activists without existing in both the human world, and the Facebook world.

Because really, that's what it is. Facebook - the Internet and all other social media sites - is another world in and of itself. It feels like this space where things happen, and I can't yet figure out if these things that happen replace connection in real life, or supplement it. I used to think it was supplemental. Back in the day. Back when there were only 15 colleges on Facebook and I only joined because my friend told me he expected that I would have the best Facebook profile ever. So I took the challenge and joined. That was 7 or 8 years ago. I logged on every few days. Wrote novels on my friend Neely's wall. Poked a few friends. We thought it was a funny joke.

Now, it controls so many of our lives.

Yet of course, I embrace Facebook. It's an incredible tool for staying in touch with people and reconnecting with friends. Entire events happen in the Facebook sphere - for better or worse. Relationships come out of Facebook. My friend and his wife just had their second child - they met via Facebook. My boyfriend and I have Facebook to thank. We first met at a poetry show in which I was performing, and he was the photographer. Days later, he friended me. I sent him a message. We chatted for hours. That was almost two years ago.

I just wonder if we'll ever go back to a time when Facebook is supplemental to our lives, rather than an escape from, or instead of, or because of. I feel like it has lost control - that we have lost control.

I think about that mother. I think about her yoga practice. I think about resistance. The Luddite in Starbucks. Has he made it this far - still - without an email address or Facebook account?

And then of course, I will hit the "publish post" button here in Blogger, and my post will publish. And very few people will look at my blog and notice that a new post is up for the first time since November. Then, as I have linked them automatically, the post will feed through my Facebook account, and show up as a note. Which is the only way most people will ever end up reading this.

And then, of course, there's this: http://nyti.ms/h13NzB.