Self Imposed Solitude vs. Abandonment

Abandon: (n)

 “a letting loose, freedom from self-restraint, surrender to natural impulses,” by 1822 as a French word in English (it remained in italics or quotation marks through much of the 19c.; the naturalized abandonment in this sense was attempted from 1834), from a sense in French abandon “abandonment; permission” (12c.), from abandonner “to surrender, release”  

The noun was borrowed earlier (c. 1400) from Old French in a sense “(someone’s) control;” and compare Middle English adverbial phrase at abandon, i.e. “recklessly,” attested from late 14c. In Old French, the past-participle adjective abandoné came to mean “zealous, eager, unreserved.”

Abandon: (v) 

late 14c., “to give up (something) absolutely, relinquish control, give over utterly;” also reflexively, “surrender (oneself), yield (oneself) utterly” (to religion, fornication, etc.), from Old French abandoner “surrender, release; give freely, permit,” also reflexive, “devote (oneself)” (12c.).

The Old French word was formed from the adverbial phrase à bandon “at will, at discretion,” from à “at, to” (from Latin ad; see ad-) + bandon “power, jurisdiction,” from Latin bannum, “proclamation,” which is from a Frankish or other Germanic word, from Proto-Germanic *bannan- “proclaim, summon, outlaw” (things all done by proclamation); see ban (v.).

Mettre sa forest à bandon was a feudal law phrase in the 13th cent. = mettre sa forêt à permission, i.e. to open it freely to any one for pasture or to cut wood in; hence the later sense of giving up one’s rights for a time, letting go, leaving, abandoning. [Auguste Brachet, “An Etymological Dictionary of the French Language,” transl. G.W. Kitchin, Oxford, 1878]

Meaning “to leave, desert, forsake (someone or something) in need” is from late 15c. (Etymologically, the word carries a sense of “put (something) under someone else’s control.”) Earliest appearance of the word in English is as an adverb (mid-13c.) with the sense “under (one’s) control,” hence also “unrestricted.” Related: Abandonedabandoning.

https://www.etymonline.com/word/abandon

Solitude: (n)

mid-14c., from Old French solitude “loneliness” (14c.) and directly from Latin solitudinem (nominative solitudo) “loneliness, a being alone; lonely place, desert, wilderness,” from solus “alone” (see sole (adj.)). “Not in common use in English until the 17th c.” [OED]

A man can be himself only so long as he is alone; … if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free. [Schopenhauer, “The World as Will and Idea,” 1818]

Solitudinarian “recluse, unsocial person” is recorded from 1690s.

https://www.etymonline.com/word/solitude

Apanthropy: (n)

“aversion to human company, love of solitude,” 1753, nativized form of Greek apanthropia, abstract noun from apanthropos “unsocial,” from assimilated form of apo “off, away from” (see apo-) + anthropos “man, human” (see anthropo-). Related: Apanthropic.

 

I don’t cry very often.  If I do, it usually has something to do with the death of dogs.  This could be because I’ve had my dog for eleven years and I can’t imagine life without her, and I assume that everyone feels that way about their dog if they have one.

This companion has been with me through some very trying times.  She has weathered my emotional storms that come rarely but brutally. I know she won’t just run away, our trust and connection is very deep.  We rely on one another.

People, are a different story.  My relationships with people have been a different story and upon retrospect perhaps I have been too dismissive of humans who mean well and matter very much to me.  Perhaps I have taken for granted the love others are able to have for me as a person with meaning in their life.  Perhaps my willingness to be dismissive has created a reality where I am more easily dismissed.  Or, maybe, I am being the center of my own galaxy and taking things too personal. I don’t know, but I cried today over a human.

I cried because this human finally said that they were leaving this (at times God Forsaken town) in anywhere between four and six months.  There is nothing left here for this person, except me. However I am not a reason to stay here and I haven’t made much of an effort to validate that I could be worth staying for.  I’ve been somewhat dismissive.

Today I was faced with the thought experiment of what it will be like to be sort of back to square one when it comes to human connection outside of my living situation.  What it will be like to not see the one person I’ve see almost daily for at least a few minutes for the last six years, who isn’t related to me.

My heart is broken and I didn’t expect this.  I always figured if they were going to go, it would be a sort of relief, and yet I don’t feel relieved.  I feel scared as fuck. Despite the times we haven’t agreed and I’ve had to use my words to point out the things that are incongruous or vital to our growth, I am so scared to be alone again.  Friendless.

See, I don’t want to cry over this.  I want to be callus because I fear this loneliness so much.  I felt abandonment to some degree every day of my life because my mom died when I was so young.  That feeling never left.  That abandonment eventually turned itself into self imposed solitude.  “You are the only one you can trust.  Everyone always leaves.”

I’ve used my loss as justification to build a very strong wall around myself.  It is constantly fortified and therefore basically unmovable, un-scale-able, and unbreakable. I’ve told myself that “It’s better this way.”  But is it?

Another thing I tell myself is “Everything works out in the end.  Go with the flow.”  Meanwhile, I am just as scared as the next guy who is scared of being alone forever.  I note that I am currently thirty-seven and that number isn’t decreasing.  My fortress needs to crack.  It needs to break, but all I know is how to build it stronger, not how to tear it down.

I am at a loss when it comes to how to deal with it, other than crying for a while, because I know that tomorrow I will tell myself to shove it back down and keep living without appearing to be broken.  And that life will continue and circumstances will change and I will be at the mercy of those changes.  That’s it, in a “go with the flow” mentality.  You realize you have no real control over anything but your own personal expression in the world. I suppose the impression I try to leave is resilience, strength and emotional independence.  Self reliance in times of uncertainty or trouble.  Am I successful at that?  I don’t really know.

I want to put out some blame here beyond myself, toward the pervasive programming in this world that has helped me fortify my fortress.  The blame goes to the insanity of feminism.  I never once called myself a feminist, but I have inherited many of the destructive belief patterns that are inherent in that movement.  Namely the degradation of the family.  More specifically, the demoralization of men and the positive role they can play in our lives.

I have no idea why I have taken on these views and manifested them into my reality the way I see them in this moment. I thought I knew better.  My dad is a really great person, a really dedicated individual.  My male family members (over all) have been wonderful, non violent people.   Where did all of this come from?

“Hey girl, you don’t need a man, you can do it on your own. Guys suck anyway.”

It just isn’t universally true.  And attitudes like that make you focus on every negative aspect of a person.  It programs you to look for the worst and to somehow capitalize on whatever you find in the most demoralizing way.  I’ve been with kind, supportive partners and with everyone of them, I tried to “break” them.  Why?  Why was I breaking them instead of building them up?  Why was I justifying that breaking them would build them up?   When has that ever worked out for the good of things and people?  It hasn’t.  It’s called mind control.

Mind Control is easily asserted on those whose minds have been broken by trauma.  I allowed an earlier trauma in my life to dictate my future reality with a certain sense of failure.  In turn I would blame myself as being “unlovable.”  If I received a compliment that was true, I would shrug it off as “niceties” or smoke being blown up my ass.   Never feeling worthwhile of praise unless it had something to do with external talent.

My heart is just so full of love, but it’s gotten harder over time to show it.  Express it.  Be it.  I didn’t like being broken like that today.  I didn’t like seeing that truth in myself.  But mostly, I didn’t like crying about it.  I didn’t like the submission of seeing a truth I had been avoiding. I didn’t like facing it alone and realizing that I set myself up for this.  Even though I fell into a program, I am the one who let it go on this long.  I am ashamed of myself, but I will commit to forgiveness.

I’m not sure how this moves forward, “but I am sure it will all work itself out in the end.”

 

 

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The Results of Unfollowing People On FB for a Month.

Well, it’s been a month and a few days since I cleared out my FB feed.  What did I learn?  What happened?

I think this will be a short post because most of it has been covered in the previous posts aligned with this topic.

Ultimately, I got VERY bored with the platform.  I used it as a resource above all and curbed my interaction by over 90%.

That is a big jump.  I no longer had a feed to scroll unless I went to my friend groups, and I only went to my friend groups out of curiosity (mainly about local happenings.)

I continued to get notifications, and any late comers to the game were silenced for 30 days.  Those silenced parties just started cropping up in my feed yesterday.  Namely companies that advertise through FB.  For me, namely, craft beer breweries I am a fan of.  Without thinking, I saw these posts crop up, and silenced them for another 30 days.

Honestly I am not “missing” anything, per se.   I love passing along info.  If a person has a question and I feel like I have a viable answer, it is a pleasure to share.  However, all in all, I only contacted people or posted if I thought some one may benefit somehow from that post.

I feel a need to remind my audience that I do not have FB messenger or FB app on my phone.  If I want to post there, away from home, I have to go to the mobile web page and I am limited in options.  I also need to remind readers that I am able to access FB more often than a person with a “normal job.”  I work from home, or rather home is work, but WIFI is pretty consistent and FB is an easy distraction from mundane domestic duty.

Did I miss it?  No, not really.  At times I noticed myself pressing the refresh button that leads to my own echo chamber and then I was like “Oh yeah, I boycotted this like I would a Walmart.”  I still drive by, I still have opinions, but…. I have no plans on going inside and interacting with anyone in there for the sake of boredom and randomness.”

Honestly, I think that is cool.  To me, it proves I wasn’t as addicted or reliant on it as I thought I was.  I gave myself the power of choice, and the challenge of abstaining.   I do suspect I will fade away and that doesn’t worry me so much.

Today I dug through my senior year book, and I didn’t have a shit ton of signature/ messages, but the ones I did have, reasserted the best parts of me that sustain to this day.  A majority of these messages were not short.   Most of them had connecting themes when it comes to talent; kindness, weirdness, good feelings and impact.  I am still ALL of those things and I didn’t believe it back then.  I always assumed people were blowing smoke up my ass because they, themselves, did not want to be rejected.

I don’t need Facebook to be my daily Yearbook.  I enjoy these throw back features to see what I was saying and doing xxx years ago, but I don’t have to have it to survive.  The thing that makes me feel like I am dying is isolation with no solutions.  In fact, since I have taken the leap of disassociating with my live feed I’ve made a new friend/workout partner; started spending multiple hours during the week to build workouts for M,W, F, AND connected IN REAL LIFE with people who are actually in my geographic sphere.

I feel accomplished.  I see how this type of process can fold over into other situations that may need conscious regulation.  If you feel like you would appreciate slowly pulling away from the intoxicant that is Facebook, hit me up, or read my other posts on how I experimented with the idea.   It really is a challenge of “out of sight, out of mind.”  A break like that allows you to question yourself what you want to use the platform for, and what you expect out of your engagement.

If you want naught, why fruitlessly search and conjure up partially fulfilling illusion?  All I’ve ever wanted is “real life friends who are true and honest.”  I’ve had them in spurts, and maybe it’s time I give those real life connections a chance again.

My hope is that you find this useful, and if you want more info contact me, I love sharing intel.  ❤

Quantum Express~ A Kittery Tale

On November 9, 2018 my friend Devon walked out of my garage to his car, and exclaimed “Do you know this cat?”

From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see what was on the other side of the door.  Immediately I thought “Well, probably not because I rarely see cats just roaming around my neighborhood.” However, much like Schrödinger, my curiosity got the best of me.

“What cat?” I exclaimed, jumping from my chair and racing to the door.  There I saw a slim, small violet Siamese cat with an injured paw.  She sidled up to the drivers side rear wheel of my car and peered at me coyly.   I knelt down and called her to me, to my surprise she walked forward to me.  She allowed me to scoop her up to look at her paw.  A small injury, but it looked  like it had been deep and healing a while.  The gash in her paw almost appeared as if she had been stuck to ice, and ripped away her pad.

She allowed me to take her inside, clean up her paw and add some Vertricyn to the wound.  She was cuddly and appeared to want to stay close.  How could I say no?

I immediately took to social media; the after hours Animal Shelter site on Facebook, and any other local group that I noticed posts of lost or missing animals. I took her to the vet to see if she was chipped. Negative.  I posted on Nextdoor, a social networking site for neighborhoods.  I called the Animal Shelter. I waited a day and then I went out and bought her food; litter, a litter box and a dish and a couple of toys.

This girl was so sweet, someone must be missing her. It was just before the holiday season, I thought to myself, “Well maybe she was being pet sat and sneakily escaped.  Maybe her person is on vacation or deployment and the cat sitter doesn’t want to worry her owners while they are away.”  I was constantly checking my post, and posts about cats in my area.  Pretty much, nothing.

About a month after the kittery had been hanging out, a woman on the Nextdoor site, insisted it was hers.  That she had left town on November 10 and had only recently returned.  I demanded pictures and descriptions.  Her cat looked nothing like the one I had been treating as my own for the past four weeks.  The markings were all wrong.  She felt dead set it was hers, so I took a risk and said “If you feel that strongly about it, here is my address, come on over and see for yourself.”   Fifteen minutes later she texted back saying that she was called into work (at the military base across town, where she lives) and that she would be sending one of her guy friends to come by.

Honestly I got a little panicked.  I didn’t know if this was a demanding boyfriend type guy or what.  I texted her to drop it until tomorrow and come for herself but she didn’t respond to the message.  Approximately 45 minutes later I got a knock on the door from a short, kind of effeminate Hispanic male and a  slightly taller Hispanic female.  Both seemed somewhere between mid twenties to early thirties.  They explained the situation on their end, and I went to get the cat for their inspection.

I brought the cat out in my arms, lazily purring.  Immediately the woman said, ” Can I pet her? ”  And I reply “Yes.” because I have only seen this cat friendly to people (unless hungry).  She is a lover.  The lady pets the cat and says “This isn’t our friends cat.  Her cat literally hates me.  She tries to attack me anytime I am near her.”  Her male companion proceeds to look the cat over and agrees, “this isn’t the missing cat.”

I tell them my end of the story, and of my growing attachment, and how I thought it would be weird for a cat from the west side of town to make it all the way over here and then not try to go home.  They admit that their friend use to live in the apartments across the street, but it had been over a year and a half ago.  We thanked each other for our time and patience, and they went along on their way.   I cuddled the kitty deeper, and decided a month was long enough to wait for an owner to appear, and then I had the weirdest thought.

What if the owner of this cat died, and the cat slipped out when EMS arrived to remove the body?  Cryptic, right?  I got a strong sensation this was the case.  This cat had been stray for a while, and it was looking for the right person to adopt.  I had proven to her that I care for her well being.  Her love was strong and instant.  All of a sudden I felt “chosen” , again; a feeling I haven’t had since I found my Claddagh Dog.

This cat needed a name.  From the first moment, she just somehow integrated so perfectly.  I continued to let her outside, in hopes she would just find her own way back home.  I’d let her out at night, when traffic is less… and every morning I would wake up to pee and think of her and she would magically appear at my bedroom window.  I would let her in, pour her a bowl of food and lay back down.  She would eat her food, and come nestle herself in the crook of my bent knees.  We would sleep a while, and when I would get up she would make the smallest squeak as to say “Don’t move, I like it here with you.”

Some nights it was a battle of the bed.  Claddagh usually wants front seat being the little spoon against my chest, and occasionally the kittery was first to call it.  Claddagh would seem disappointed, nevertheless would curl up at my feet at the bottom of the bed.

See, I am so blessed with my animals.  Claddagh is a dream come true Dog.  She is so perfect.  She had her issues in the beginning but most of that stuff is out of her system.  She has had a kittery before, she is gentle and observant. I trust her to be kind to the kittery, however I do not trust her alone in a room with a dirty litter box.  It’s good to know every ones boundaries.

This cat still needs a name.  What do I think of her, when I think of her?  Well, it’s like she just came out of nowhere.  Like, she manifested from some other dimension in Time Space.  Quantum.   Quantum Dream Cat.  Oh shit, you know that kitty is here to teach you something.

So,  Quantum came into my life, accepted her name and knows it.  If she is outside and I call her name silently, inside of my head, she arrives.  Admittedly I was a lazy owner,   taking for granted the fact that I don’t really know anything about this cat except the fact that she is extremely clean, loving and chipless.   She likes wet and dry food, and as she is getting more comfortable with her surroundings, she wants to be held less.  I still let her out for a few hours each night/early morning.  She continues to return.  Sometimes, she just jumps up on my window sill and watches me sleep, waiting for me to wake up and look at her to let her in.  Her voice is quiet most times, unless she is super urgent or agitated.  She doesn’t beg to be let in, she just waits.  Claddagh wants to hump her and I think it’s funny to watch the Animal Planet live from my bedroom.  Something tells me the kittery might be in heat, so I start to keep her in.

In all honesty, I love this situation but I am sort of weirded out.  All of a sudden I feel some spiritual “Level Up”.

Okay.  So. I know. I should have taken her to the vet the moment I took down all the posts and claimed her as mine.  I should have, but I didn’t.  I checked for a spay scar, and didn’t see one, so, that is totally a “my bad.”  I was handling Quantum quite a bit on a daily basis, and the moment her little teets no longer looked like little pieces of dried rice, I went to Google to confirm what I suspected.  Pregnancy.  Fuck.  But, what do you do, right?  So far as I know, there is no Feline Plan B.  Again, what have I gotten myself into?  Immediately I start a Google crash course in pregnant Siamese Cats.

 

 

Letter to my 30 Year Old Self.

Dear 30 Year Old Mandie/ Madge- whatever you want to call yourself;

You kind of know me, because I am you and so this shouldn’t be creepy or offensive in any way…. but DAMN GIRL!  You are so adorable and just the right amount of weird and sexy.    Farming really looked good on you.  Nature is a place that brings out your best assets. I really miss the entire wardrobe you collected and discarded over the years.

I notice that you looked forward to 30, and you KNEW that once you arrived that you were on top of the world.  No longer a child, and old enough to say you know better… The prospect of thirty was exciting… and it felt like an accomplished age. You weren’t wrong.  You really played strong, hard and responsible with the right amount of reckless.   You learned and observed a lot. Despite normal selfishness, you wanted nothing more than to give and receive the gift of seeing others happy.   Your strength still helps me today.

I know you are still struggling with body dysmorphia at this point. You have a hard time facing it, as you always have.  Your diet is really great, you really try to “work your body” outside of the demands of a physically demanding job, and you still feel inadequate. I just want to say, damn girl.  If you could see me, the potential future you in my today; you would know what I am saying.

If you could really SEE the whole you,  beyond picking the right take from a video meant for youtube,  You would be amazed at how often you’ve demonized yourself.  When things were good, they were great and yet still as avoidable and demonized as when things felt bad.

The You, who made up “Madge Midgely Laycock” and so many other avoidance characters, was both brilliant and sad.  You  honestly always said what it is you are experiencing, and sometimes bad grammar is your partner in crime, but it is adorable.

30 Year Old Mandie, I miss you.  I mean, its only been 8 years, but, WOW, I LOVE YOU!  I feel so much of our internal, eternal  realness was represented in your excitement, boldness and presence.   You didn’t even know you were thinking about Me, now, then.  But, I get it.  I feel ya girlfriend, self I am.

Thank you for being so unabashed, always.  I think that is one of the things I love most about you. You are really strong, creative and resilient.  It’s awesome to know that you are me.

I ‘m sorry if I have disappointed you.  I didn’t expect this, either.  You know how we roll?  With the punches.

I know I feel inclined to defend or explain myself to you, but you will understand when you get here.  And, if I know you, like I know me; there will be forgiveness, compassion and understanding.

Mandie2010-2012, You are a force to be reckoned with.  Thank you for the time we were able to spend together.   You taught me how to really be a friend to me, you, us, and the future.

In Trusting Love,

The 37 year old You.

M.E.S.

Facebook- Refine Your Desires, Define Your Face

This process of refining my Facebook feed has been interesting… and I am not done with it yet.

Slowly I am putting people into groups of demographic.  (Sorry kids, I don’t like labels either but now you each get your own space in a category.)

By clicking on my Friends Lists under the Heading “Explore”, I can see a grouping of posts from people that I have separated.  Which means if I don’t want to see stuff about my home town, music, or babies… I can effectively do that.  When I want to see what’s happening in the music community, I can click on that group and scroll, until the feed ends.

This experiment has been both awesome and gross.  One on hand I am taking control of my input and output and on the other hand I am silently judging and allocating realms for people, they don’t even realize they are now existing within.

Doing this has significantly cut down on my time scrolling my FB feed.  Now, if I am curious about something or someone, in particular, I go to the list I put them in.  I get the added benefit of seeing posts from people who are also existing in that category.  In relation to that and on a side note, the algorithms are putting similar posts in alignment.  This is when I see two strangers talk about the same thing, even though they are unaware of one another.  I like it for research purposes and find it creepy as fuck on another level.

I have to face the fact that I will be invisible to people I care about, who I thought cared about me due to the “unfollow.”

The “unfollow” means that two people are responsible for their interactions.  If they stop interacting online, eventually the dialog will dry up.  Who knows if you still call each other, send letters and talk, if you don’t do those things, expect that relationship to take a hit in the cyber realm.

I’m not sure yet if the menial contribution I have after this point, will be useful.  I’ve basically told you how to take baby steps in completely disconnecting from the most major social media site on the planet.

I haven’t missed the mindless scrolling, but I miss the late night banter on a controversial posts.  I suppose that says a lot about me, and the types of things I like to engage with.

Regardless, I want to feel confident and happy with my online social experience as well as being real with myself about how I do not want social media to dominate my social existence.

I will continue to post updates as I notice, notable things.  Such as the featured image on this post which begs the question of how badly I want to be involved in one of the largest data collection experiments in human history.   That isn’t as easy to answer as I do appreciate the platform for reference in the world.

See, even if I am isolated, I know what is going on around me because of this platform and it allows me to do something that I enjoy doing, which is to assist others with requests or needs.  I imagine that pretty soon everything will be powered by auto-bots virtual assistance (this is a growing trend and being marketed to individuals who don’t have the time to man a busy page all day, and have no trust for a human Admin.)  The program will scan for questions and deliver answers more quickly than waiting on a human to share their input.

There is a need to sincerely look at this from a higher perspective and not just the selfish nature of desire.

Until then, may you interact with social media with balance and responsibility.

My Unabashed Wyoming Bias

I have to admit it;  I am completely enamored and biased by people from Wyoming.  Specifically Cheyenne, Wyoming.

I was born there; raised there, excited to leave there, and reluctant to come back.

I’ve said it once and I will say it again; I think I came from a really special “breeding ground.”  It gave us everything other than what we wanted, and we made do  with what we had.

I stepped outside my FB echo chamber today, to check out my Cheyenne Friends List.  I set this up almost ten years ago, as a new offering on the FB platform.

See it automatically set up a “Cheyenne, Wy” friend group, but it was purely based on the people who listed Cheyenne as their current home town.  At that point I created my own list including people I have known over the 18 years of growing up, and then adding people I met living there, from real life and online interactions.

Some of my favorite people from my past, exist on that list.  I root for them the hardest.  I believe in them the most.  They rarely disappoint.

By this point in my life, I thought I would be the type of person that  would be “followed” or “friended” for this specific type of list but somewhere down the line I really stopped giving a fuck and I am sure people have noticed and unfollowed or unfriended me along the way.

I am no longer the over achieving-personality pleasing person I thought I was.  I am not jumping large social hurdles, or even putting up much appearance at all.  I am okay with that because it leaves me time and energy to root on other people.  It gives me something outside of myself to “believe in.”

Personally, I feel pretty solid in the fact that I have to keep myself in balance  enough to the point that I can’t really rely on others for supplemental encouragement or energy; nor do I want to be an energetic vampire.  So we sit in stasis.

I will admit I know some amazing people who  continue to exist with amounts of personal drive that I have a hard time fathoming, but probably could have trumped in my earlier years.

These people are from my home town.  These are people I want to follow. People I knew, “once upon a time.”

I want to see how they thrive and fall.  I want to be there to encourage them no matter what.

But I feel this way about other people who have fallen in and out of my periphery since then.  I never want to see them hurt.  I do not want to contribute to their pain.  I believe in them and their purpose.

Perhaps it is just those old stories, of when we were young and lacking confidence and suddenly found ourselves falling into a new group of friends, or perhaps it is just that rubbernecking attitude like watching a car wreck on the highway; I will never leave on a purposefully mean note.  I may not agree with everything they say, but I feel that they represent me on some level, whether due to geography of once upon a time or some other relating factor, I believe deeply in who those people are and what they have to offer.

I love my Wyoming Kin.  I love having a list to check up on, when I am curious.

I say : Go dominate the world with the amazingness that  you are my fellow Wyomites.  Always ask Wy-Om-In(g) here?  Wy-Om-I- (will)ngly to stay or go?  You know the Wind will always blow you in the right direction, if you are listening.

Wyoming- sometimes you aggravate the shit out of me, but for some reason, I always have your back; the people you produce and spit into the vast space of time and separation are worth keeping and holding close.  I will remember this when you forget.

Wyoming you are more akin to the dandelion than you are the Indian Paintbrush… unless of course they are plant cousins, and then I can see the relation and purpose in distinction.

Here is a bowl-full of love for the vast, beautiful creativity that was able to dissipate outside the square we were living in.  I hope to see your beautiful faces, sooner than later.

In the meantime, we will still be here waiting for you to return with your wild seeds, ready and willing to plant a new and colorful generation.

Facebook Catches Up to My De-Clutter Mode

As I suspected, my news feed was a self propelled echo chamber, with random results when it comes to engagement.  I was certain that the systematic program needed to catch up with my swift and drastic changes in platform usage.

Here and there, people were starting to pop back up, into my feed because someone (not on my list) had tagged them in a post; in addition to that the Ads feature seems to be attempting to “hone in” on me.

To remind you of my process; I have done the best I can to unfollow every person, group and page.  I am actively hiding ads that I find irrelevant to me, and I am snoozing people if they reappear on my feed.

See, much like you, I want my best experience on Facebook to be productive, insightful, and easy to walk away from.

I know I am great at research, assistance and connecting on deeper levels.  I know I primarily use my page to share what I am doing, otherwise, well… next to no one will see it, and I still like engagement on my creativity.

So.

I got my first relative ad today.  A local coffee roaster is having a sampling.  I like coffee, I like local, and I like samples.  This is relevant.

The only ad I have not blocked was for this pen, that acts as a mouse and a stylis, so it’s easier to draw with than your average full-palm mouse, or finger mouse pad.  Useful for things I would like to do.

Part of the perfect experience on FB, is going to be the ads since we know those aren’t going to go away soon.  If they are going to work hard to tailor the ads to me, I hope to see stuff I would actually consider spending money on, rather than multiple ads about pregnancy supplements and funnels.  I will leave that to the pros.

The next piece to make a great experience is to eliminate the repetition of singular reoccurring posts within a few scrolls of the screen.  At times I’ve wondered why I have seen the same post from the same person with only a break of three to five posts between them, (not to mention one of those three to five posts would be an irrelevant ad.)

The third thing that would add to the experience, and also give leeway to walk away, is only showing deeply relevant posts.  They rely on us, to pick our audience to some extent; this is why we can set up contact groups, regulate posts to public, friends, selected audience or private.  This is why groups can choose to be private, or closed.

I am pretty open.  I am interested in seeing a bunch of different things; the one thing I DO NOT WANT is repetition.   If the program feels inclined to repeat a post, that is when I want the “There are no more story posts to share at this time.” prompt.

Cool.  Let me walk away.  I know someone will post something in five minutes, but if I can walk away before that happens, or I press “refresh”  I have a better chance of walking away until later, when a group of new posts are ready to fill my feed.

I wouldn’t even mind if you had the option to set yourself timers for your online engagement.  Perhaps it would just cut you off at a certain time, and only let you back in after a set duration.

What I do know, is that I am thankful that I haven’t put the app on my phone at all.  I don’t have mobile FB messenger and to reach the website in public is tedious.  Even from the web page, messenger is unavailable, so I definitely do not have the problem of being engaged with FB when I am away from my house.  ( I love being at least three years behind in mobile tech than most people.)

I wonder if more people decided to take proactive action in how social media platforms SHOULD operate, instead of waiting for the platform to slowly develop by adjusting our engagement for the purpose of the company; how our interaction with these platforms may actually serve us better and add into productivity vs. distracting the hell out of us.

What do you think?  Have you taken a social media break that didn’t pan out?  Did you basically leave social media at one point?  Are you a late social media bloomer, and wonder where this has been your whole life and why you didn’t jump on the boat earlier?

I’d love to hear your stories about life with social media.  Stories of love, hate and ambivalence.  Please share in the comments and as always, thank you for your patronage.

 

A portal of inner exploration