I don’t regret filling in the blanks of my life with what unfolded on the internet. I actually regret not doing it more often.
3. What 9/11 is.
There is this idea that female writers’ appearances somehow are “free game” for commentary, and appraisal of a female writer’s appearance somehow equates into the worthiness of her story. This, of course, is bullshit. Total fucking bologna.
2. Duck tape your mind’s mouth shut.
When your audience is this big, how can you really “know” it?
In the past year I have consolidated most of my online activity onto Facebook. This is as surprising to me as it is to any Facebook naysayer reading this. I used to be one of you.
When Myspace first became popular, I put forth a Caulfieldian theory of how people behave online: People put forth the person they want to be, not who they are.
I don’t want to move there after the inevitable, “20 Ways You Know You’re A True New Myspacer” posts come out.
Holy responsiblity, we are adults now. When did that even happen? I’m pretty sure I was just watching Lizzie McGuire and Even Stevens after a long day of middle school like two months ago, tops.
I guess I should be thanking you. Sure, your OkCupid photo is of you posing shirtless in the mirror, trying not to make it look like you’re flexing when it’s blatantly obvious to everyone in the world that you’re flexing, but it could be worse.