So Facebook went down early the other morning (for like a millisecond).

Instagram did too, apparently.

And everyone handled it really, really well.

Actually, I wasn’t present for the kerfuffle.

But by the time I plugged in and caught the slew of “news” stories covering #facebookdown’s aftermath (and all the corresponding Facebook posts – ‘cause it was back online, finally, an eternity of five minutes later), I really did feel kinda like the dudes in the above gif. It still shocks me a little. Seeing the enormity of social media’s effect. It only takes its momentary removal to witness the magnitude. Last time, people (yes, that’s plural – people who didn’t know each other) phoned last fall’s Facebook shutdown… into the cops. And today was no different. Everyone, their mothers, their mothers’ mothers, and their mothers’ mothers’ live in caretakers had taken to the stweets, hashtag rioting and looting in the only binary town that wasn’t a ghost one… yet. Twitter. What was next? That asteroid coming back around and nailing us after all? Grindr’s demise? Tinder goes “timber!”…? God no! My Valentine’s plans will be foiled!

But then again, if they both die for good, I can come up with an app I’ve been wanting to make in their place with a far more honest title: “Jizz N’ Jet. It’s got a nice ring for those who wish to remain ringless. Espesh since lotsa folk who meet up seem to be mistaking these hookup things for long-term-relache auditions.

Then this girl really threw it back with this reference:

(Yes… I really should dig up my old angst infused entries.)

There was even an I.T. crowd-esque suggestion amongst the lament:

And Wong’s not wrong – about turning stuff off and on again.

And not just for troubleshooting – but for day starting – like, that time between “off and on” needs to last a bit longer than a Snapchat image and more like the length of the last thing I saw on there. I say this because this whole spectacle happened sometime around 6 A.M. my time, I think. I was wide awake and starting my day. And when I hopped online and learned about the ‘bookpocalypse and ‘gramageddon happening tandem to one another before sunrise, I felt… surprised. And maybe a little proud. Proud of myself for having woken up and finally taken that advice people keep telling me about “don’t eff with your smartphone or laptop first thing in the morning – do some exercise or yoga or dogwalking first so you can head into the day with a clear mind”. But, then, like some flaming shameful train car tagging along behind that thought, was guilt about feeling proud. Have I become so addicted to tech stimulation that holding off on delving into an info filled lite n’ brite brick feels like when I was quitting opiates and the hours between doses felt like an eternity? And that I suffer a rotator cuff injury from back-patting just ’cause I’m doing what I should? Oh well.

Shame train or not, this made me realize at least some‘a my cars are awkwardly clacking down the right track.


So that’s a start.