So a few months ago, I put up one of those MySpace pages. I really ain’t into MySpace like most people. I have a page and that’s it. I’ll scroll through others from time to time, but I’m no vested in it like those people that add songs, create layouts, include every bit of personal information they can, and upload enough photos to get dates, modeling contracts, and show love to their children all at one time.
But since I have a page, folks hit me up from time to time. Since I’ve got my undergrad and high school stuff on there, folks from back in the day find me from time to time. It’s cool. Frequently, I’ll hear from people I’ve wanted to talk to for a while, and that’s all right. I’ve always said that the Internet has effectively limited the excuses people have for not staying in touch. For the most part, people will only lose touch with you if they want to. Damn near all of us are one Google search away. Lord knows I am.
But man, we got a problem–we’re getting to the point where I don’t remember half the jokers that hit me. Even crazier are the people that I haven’t talked to since I graduated high school in ’97–oh goodness, I have a reunion next year–who don’t have their names on their pages and still expect me to be able to identify them from a picture they took last week even though I haven’t seen them since I was 16.
Moral of the story–I’m getting old.
I mean, folks from college will swear to me that I should remember them. They’ll give me explicit details of how we met, places we’ve been, mutual friends we’ve got…all that stuff. And I swear to you I’ve never met them before in my life.
But I guess I must have. Ain’t like I was so popular as to be ubiquitous. People can’t just tell me things about myself without me having told them (or me having dated a close friend of theirs, which is its own discussion in itself). So maybe I do know them.
Riddle me this–am I the only person that used to have an incredible memory for names and faces that just can’t remember folks like that no more? Does MySpace do that to you, too?
Off to…*shudder* work. At…*shudder* Dook. What people do for money.