So I joined Facebook recently. I didn’t really want to –or, to be very honest, I never really thought about whether I wanted to– but Dimitra asked me to, so that she could write that she’s married to me. Which was very sweet, actually. Also, not that I am worried about such things, but one should perhaps make sure that no one would send her messages like: “Hey, I’m a bachelor in my late twenties, have brown curly hair and glasses and look a bit silly, but in a sweet way. Also, I never forget to take the rubbish out, dishes are never greasy after I’ve washed them and I don’t do grumpy moods.”

Of course, I didn’t want to appear like a sad loner whose only friend is his wife. (It’s the internet, after all, so we can pretend as much as we want to.) So I asked a few people to become my friend. And then a few other people asked me to become their friend too and since I know them, kind of, I couldn’t really say no. And then someone complained that I didn’t have my photo on the site and that that looked a bit silly, which, admittedly, it did, so I uploaded a recent one. And then there was a rather empty profile too, which looked like I’m a very secretive person. Which I’m not.

So now I’ve spent at least one hour a week in the past weeks, trying to think of more bands to include in my list of favourite bands, so that it would look interesting and eclectic, but still me, and of books I really liked, without naming just my recently read ones, which I really liked too, but which would appear a bit silly as a list of all-time favourites. An hour a week is not very much, no, but it’s still more than half a percent of my time. So if I ever send you an email, starting with an excuse about being busy: that’s a blatant lie.

In other news, I joined this hangout of people like me the other day, which is nice and all, and takes away another percent of my precious weekly time. And you know, it’s good to make friends and all that, even if they’re just people sitting behind the computer at some other part of the country, or even world. It’s just that sometimes I wonder if all these distractions don’t get in the way of thinking about, well, things. About how to make sense of the things in my head and how to synchronise them with the way the world works, for example. I am afraid they do.