Saturday, December 27, 2008

I really never thought this'd happen:

My mom rang me this evening. After I said "hullo," she briskly got to the point: "Why can't I be your friend on Facebook?"

I had rejected her request only minutes ago, one that had baffled me because I had long ago patiently explained the social shaming I would suffer if I did not, and she had accepted the situation quite gracefully, knowing it met the boundary we had set for the other things I did with my friends.

"Your cousin has you on Facebook and I was talking with your aunt and she knows all these things about you to which I would like to say 'I knew that already.' Do you realize how it makes me feel to say otherwise? You must add me as a friend."

Already at this point, I realized how many times she had said "friend" and that she would be much too hung up on Facebook's use of the term. Secondary to this realization is the sinking feeling that I would never be able to explain that Facebook's definition of "friend" shares almost nothing with its meaningful, real-world use.

So, what earth-shattering things do my Hong Kong relations know that my own mother is not privy to? That I went out to get groceries last night? That I took a particularly satisfying shit a couple of minutes ago?

"Many things." (It is noteworthy to say now that throughout the entire conversation, despite several requests, she never gave me an example.)

"Right, well, no, I'm sorry, I'm not adding my own mother on Facebook." Because this surely violates some ancient internet rule, and I attempted to convey as much.

Eventually, it escalated into me threatening to de-friend my cousin (who apparently finds my online activities fascinating conversation fodder -- a small and alarming comfort) or merely quit Facebook entirely (if my mother can't know my hour-to-hour YouTube selections, then nobody can!). 

As I finally declined for the last time, her voice took on a distinct tone of dejection. She stated that it was her belief that I had gone and misunderstood her deeply.

"I guess I'll simply remain your mother," she declared with the air of an imminent martyr, "and never your Friend." There was definitely a capital F.

Argh.

posted at 8:29:37 pm

Gloria
January 8, 2009   03:59 PM PST
 
Mmm. Bread.
J f Z
January 5, 2009   08:13 PM PST
 
Create a twitter account and she can follow things like:

Buying bread tonight after work.

Yep. Buying bread again tonight.

Out of bread.

Must. Go. Buy. More. Bread.
Halcyon
December 28, 2008   01:10 PM PST
 
Take her to a strip club and buy her a lapdance to maker up for it
Deirdre
December 28, 2008   09:57 AM PST
 
I completely understand your reasoning. Such a tough situation, though.

Sidenote: My Mom is my "friend" on myspace but we rarely interact there. Funny how that happens.

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Glo'ri'a'na, noun:
1. An alternative form of "Gloria."
2. As "Americana" defines itself as artefacts of American culture, "Gloriana" consists of the artefacts of my culture.


   



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