are you on myspace?
I don’t want a myspace account.
No, no, no! I am horrendous at replying to emails, I rarely update this blog, and I can’t even figure out how to upload a picture to my profile. I am not in a band, promoting a movie, a reality TV star, a teenage girl, or a middle aged pervert. While I understand that it is a convenient place to advertise that I might have friends, that kind of validation is not necessary in my world.
Way back in the day, I was forced onto friendster. Again, why? It is a lumbering dinosaur of a site with no redeeming value. I have a friend there that does nothing but add more and more pictures. To this day, she is still beating that dead horse. While I am amused at her photoshop skills, enough already. I don’t know anyone who has made a new friend, acquaintance, or love connection. In fact, I know more people who have met by way of craigslist.
At this point, to get a myspace account would be weak. I have no need for being bleeding edge, nor do I care about what’s the what, but I refuse to buy a ticket for the 2:45 bandwagon. I would rather climb into my wayback machine and jump back to 2003. That way, I could hit myspace when there was a modicum of hipster appeal. Oh, wait. I can’t. No matter. Now that it is owned by Rupert Murdoch, it is way past over.
Just like I will remain one of those few that have never seen Titanic, I will be that girl without a myspace account.
I can only hope that my loved ones will understand, and support my decision.