Unfollow
I have decided that 2018 will be the year of less. In anticipation, I have just unfollowed 760 people on Twitter, leaving a handful of journals whose articles I enjoy and no - count them - no humans. The journals may yet go. I have muted everybody on my Facebook news feed. Yes: everybody. (Why not just delete Facebook? It’s too entangled in my online life. I need it to log into stuff and to make sure that big data can still track my every move like a demented stalker.) I have deleted my Linked In profile and my Internations membership. I have unsubscribed from innumerable mailing lists. So. Much. Unsubscribing. Mainly from places I never signed up to in the first place, though a few (bye bye Lenny Letter) that I meant to read, I really did. On the other hand I have actually signed up for the New York Times books and movies mail-outs, because I’m going to have to get my cultural information from somewhere, and if it’s from the NYT I’d rather do it without going to the home page first and seeing Donald Trump’s face. If he nukes somewhere I’m sure I’ll hear about it eventually.
I felt a bit guilty as I silenced everyone. Please don’t take it personally. It’s not YOU. It’s just that blanket annihilation is the only way I can figure out how to get out of this social media mess. I don’t understand why something I believe that I enjoy also leaves me feeling so gross. I’ve been trying to make sense of why I feel such a compulsion to spend so much time on social media and yet also keep wanting to quit it, in a way that I never think, say, ‘I wish I read fewer books� or ‘I really need to force myself to cancel my New Yorker subscription�.  I love my friends and want to know what they’re up to, I am entertained by the non-friends whose posts I choose to read, I enjoy the journals and sites I follow, I like posting my own clever / snarky little thoughts: it is illogical that it adds up to something that feels corrosive and exhausting, but here we are. I don’t know what the problem was, but it was a problem. I’ve tried cutting down; I’ve failed. And so it all, pretty much, had to go.
I feel strange now, sad, desperately unconnected, isolated, lonely, out of touch, a weirdo Luddite removed from the conversation, sitting alone at my Amsterdam desk wondering what everyone is talking about. Nevertheless it is, I think, healthy. If I want to know what everyone is talking about I’m going to have to talk to a person. if I want to not feel lonely, I’m going to have to talk to a person. If I want to be in touch, I’m going to have to �  well. You get the picture. Talking to people, real people, is one of my goals for 2018.
What about the blog, Marie?
Yes, I kept the blog. I’m a writer and I like writing, so I will keep this old-fashioned, barely interactive corner of the internet for when there’s something I want to write about, but I don’t expect a lot of visitors, and that’s OK. Actually, as my settings stand, it will still pop up on your Facebook and Twitter feeds, but I don’t assume that what was bothering me is bothering you. Still, if it is, you know what to do. And I look forward to seeing you in the real world.
