Addicted to you, an FB rant

I used to pity them, these white boys and girls who walk into a bus (carrying their laptop in their bag, wearing heavy boots topped with snow jackets); take out their phones and start “leafing” through it the minute they hit their chairs. The “glowing”-faced, dazed-eyed products of the “brave new world” of social medias and the internet, who won’t be able to rub two stones together and start a fire to save their lives. These wimps who can’t say a sentence without adding half a dozen “like”s, are always “so…” something about something “right now”, and can’t finish a statements without the equivocal question mark. These “social animals” with strangers in their buddy list. These occupy-wall-street-ers who “like” things computer aggregators chose for them, follow “tweets” of people whose life style they faithfully try to duplicate, and would sacrifice God and man to escape the curse of appearing “uncool”.

I used to despise them, mock their need to show off, to “roll” with the flow, to appear full of life when infact all the life they have seems to be contained in a small device that understands only [two] binary digits. 0 & 1. Zero life, and 1 for alone (all-one?!).

I despised them, me with my big books that I hardly start and never finish. Me with my afro and typically Ethiopian unseasonal dress code. Me who rarely listened to music, and only as a transition from one radio program to program on npr [Npr! How much do I love thee. Lemme count the ways].

I despised them, until being away from family and friends; divorce, resettlement and single life made me one of them. Until I had so many things to say and no one to say them to. So much to share, and nobody to share it with. Things to prove, photos to show, opinions to release into the world (like a bird with a note tied to her feet), to go tell all how smart, witty and observant i was, became too much to be kept for self [or two short for blog posts].

Unortunately or fortunately, I hailed from the wrong country for fueling facebook addiction. Most of my [Ethiopian] facebook friends are there to compare notes: to know who stayed single or married, who has procreated and who hasn’t, and who gained weight and who lost it. So they come to look for your photos. They don’t read the news, they don’t have opinions, they don’t know any of the games. Nor can afford to stay online to learn one.

So pressing the F5 button on my “real” facebook account hasn’t been as rewarding [rich and creatively productive] as, say, my decoy account with an italian woman’s name has been.

Long story.

So in a typical fasion of a woman made vicious by an unrequitted love, I pray this day of our Lord February 3rd, 2012; that facebook’s becoming public would be the first step to its demise. I hope it meets “my space”‘s fate. And would shut down, shut down for good, with no legacy to remember it by, like — say — Kodak did last month.

[Photo Assefa: Lijineten yaleMetasebia belteh wede sheQeta sheQet suQinet melewetih…. nefsih bePhoto-betoch genet timar yihon?!].

I want all that if, for nothing else, to wipe that lopsided smile off Zukerberg’s face. I think the only thing I liked about that nerd was Jessie Eisenberg, the cutie who played him in “The Social Network”. The real Zukerberg is not just a bone-achingly boring man (have you seen his SNL skit?! He didn’t stay on the screen for more than half a minute before I begged for a shot of cyanide).

If he was as harmless as his deceivingly dull demenaor gave out, I would have pitied rather than censored him. For there is a geek in all of us “wordy/arty” type-wanna-bees. Whether we can actually manage to play the part depends upon the families (countries) we came from and the type of body size and hair styles we have.

No, I don’t hold his “Nerdistan” (®copyrighted to abesheet this very miniute! Careful not to quote without asking), against him. Its his being a back stabbing little prick who single handedly killed the concept of privacy that I hate [Privacy! A concept that isn’t on the top of the abesheet list, as you may know if you have read more than one entry from my blog. But a concept, like classical music, don’t ask don’t tell and religion … that gives me comfort to know is being adhered to by some!!]. More importantly that he made money off it. Loads of money.

And that girlfriend of his!! *changes voice mode to +gossipy, jealousy, racist-iy* Never trusted guys who like chinese women, btw. (Although some has no other choice but.) Always considered them closeted pervets who are trying to legally fuck a little girl in a grown up woman’s body. If you don’t think chinese women resemble adolescent girls in more than one ways, check out the porn videos that the internet seems to be pappered with. They whine like a baby when they come (climax, ejaculate, orgasm). They are spoiled, narccisstic, and only want to be taken care of. And are almost as racist as their parents.

A friend of mine told me the other day he likes asian chicks because they value stability more than looks. Thus giving “geeks” like him a chance.What is he refusing to look in the eye, boys and girls?! The fact that she only goes for white guys! While most Chinese men are languishing in shy-lonlones. Its the same with african american men and fat white chicks. Atleast, in the later case, its more of a blessing than a curse.

Did you say nothing like facebook’s privacy policy, chinese women and self-proclaimed “geeks” to bring the Grinch out of dear sweet adorable abesheet?!. Got that right. One keeps my need to stay “connected” unsatiated. The other has a countryman who refused to rent me his room, plus smells like garlic every time she sat next to me on the bus (and started scratching at my ear-drum using her pink-colored hello-kitty-ed smart phone and her shril voice). And last, by no way the least, I had a thing for that geek! A “thing” whose consuming fires no amount of abuse seems to put out.

So go ahead. Call me jealous. Color me green. Wonder if “the year of the dragon” was the “yin” side of “yin and yang”. I will wear it like an emblem and keep breathing the fire. When you are done, though, leave me to go search Jim Carrey and *follow* him. I love that dude. Or shall I say ?!