So, first full day “out of touch.”

Seems strange not to log-in, scroll-down, left-click, comment, enter, and repeat. One hundred and four of my closest friends and thousands of their closest friends are living their lives and posting them: what we’re eating, where we’re eating it, what we’re angry about, happy about, sad about, bored with.

Testing whether or not we’re really friends if we’ll pass on our cancer-victim relatives’ names; whether or not we’re really committed to justice by reposting pictures of candles, hearts, kittens, puppies, polar bears, refugees; whether or not we’re loved in our struggles against obesity, alcoholism, depression; educating us about the societal misunderstanding of our introversion, our ADHD, our OCD, our alphabet soup lives.

Posting pictures of our cute children, beautiful wives, new homes, lunches, dinners, snacks, drinks, homemade baked goods … it used to be a bore with the accordion picture holder in our wallets or purses … or the slide-shows at Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July … now the polite murmurings about our plastic covered pictures or Uncle Bob and Aunt Betty’s 352 slides of the trip to Yosemite are replaced with thumbs-up, blue-hearts, or at the very least a right-click on a “like” button.

“You’re a bad person if you voted for the guy,” “You’re a bad person if you didn’t vote for the guy.”

Day after day, after petty-paced, creeping, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

And I did it too.

I’m swimming out of the maelstrom for awhile is all. No moral judgment, just need a break from hearing about as opposed to hearing from.  And what does it mean, “friend?”