The Fakebook Experiment

I'm a fraud

In the shallow end

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I HATE sports. Let me put that another way, I hate watching sports on T.V. I don’t follow sports. I can’t name one player. I can’t quote one statistic. That evidently makes me unique among the male species. Don’t get me wrong, I played football from the age that I was old enough to play peewee ball, up through my sophomore year of high school. There was something therapeutic about it for me. Or maybe it was just a release of all my aggression I had pent up as a result of being a child of abuse. I was actually quite good at it. I was a star, a leader. It kept me on a tightrope walking between the people I related to (the outsiders) and the people who respected me for my football playing abilities….whatever. Anyway, so I don’t hate sports intrinsically, I just don’t get the fan-dom and cult following of professional sports. I live in Texas. We have to have the most annoying sports fans anywhere. They treat their sports like their philosophy of life – the world revolves around them – the survival of the fittest – they are the deserving ones.

So under my now deactivated “real” identity, I had to watch as my “friends” watch a damn sports game and then comment on it on facebook… they’re yelling at the T.V., except they’re posting it on facebook. I got so I despised how much I would see one of my friends yell BALLGAME!

I attended a wedding recently. Did I say it was in a small town…no? Well it was in a very small Texas town. I’m standing around a group of 30 or so guys. The entirety of the conversation centered around 1. Sports 2. Women 3. Booze

I’m like please get me out of here in my head. This wedding has turned into a bad cliche. I’m not saying there weren’t very nice people there. I just feel like a fish out of water in the middle of such petty conversations. This is the world we live in.

For me to comment on Politics, Philosophy, anger that a guy got shot by police holding a peace sign in one hand, filming with a video camera in the other and the whole time asking the police, “is this ok”….that makes me the grumpy guy. Talking about the vilianization  of school teachers and the direction of public education, that makes me the guy to ignore. Talking about the plight of the poor or the state of the nation or the economy. That makes me the asshole to be shunned.

We can’t talk about anything real in society. We have to stick to the bullshit niceties. I guess that’s why I don’t fit in. I was never allowed to say what I really felt growing up. I was told by my mother that “now, now, we can’t say anything that would hurt anyone’s feelings”. I grew to despise that point of view so greatly that I’ll be damned if you are going to shut me up. I’m not out to offend anyone. I’m not out to hurt anyone’s feelings. But what the hell is wrong with being real? We’ve gotten to this stunted stage of development exactly because we can’t have discussions about anything of substance for fear that someone might get their little feelings hurt. No one will dare say to me….hey, I’ve got a problem with you and here it is. I have no chance to process that kind of feedback and neither do you because it’s never offered. Of course these types of things should always been done in love and compassion….but they should be done.

But I’m stuck in the shallow end….in life and….well I guess not so much on facebook anymore since deactivating my real profile. But how many of us are stuck in the shallow end?


Written by fakebookexperiment

November 12, 2011 at 7:33 am

Posted in Uncategorized

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