megfowler.com

Yes, yes… Facebook.

If you’re not on it, you probably have a good reason not to be on it (as in PLEASE WILL EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP ABOUT THE DAMN WEBSITE AND GET BACK TO SENDING YOUTUBE LINKS), or you’ve decided that you’re too old or too reclusive to be interested in reconnecting with your entire personal history.

I honestly can’t believe some of the people I’ve come across on this little networking site… people that I wouldn’t have crossed paths with in a jillion years, had I not clicked through the friends lists of friends of friends (and he told two friends, and she told two friends, and so on, and so on…)

It’s pretty magical. I love knowing what people are up to. And overall, here are the top three things they are up to:

1. Getting married.
2. Having babies.
3. Going to grad school

Now, this isn’t EVERYONE, mind you. These are just the people who a) used to go to college or camp with me; or b) are within five years of my age.

This could easily leave me feeling a little behind. Well, not really. I haven’t felt anyone’s behind all day, let alone a little one.

But it’s strange to see all the wedding photos and the baby photos and say things to myself like,

“THAT’S who you married? That’s AWESOME.”
“Your child looks exactly like you.”
“Wow, you put a photo of the birth on the internet?”

and my favourite…

“You went to Saskatchewan for your honeymoon?”

(Not that I wouldn’t do the SAME THING.

Regina is for lovers.)

And the curiosity isn’t one-way, either. People send me messages every day asking what I’m up to, if I’ve “found someone” (like he’s hiding behind trees or shelves of clothing in stores, just waiting for me to notice a flash of movement and slip a ring on his finger) or if I’m “happy.”

Well, yes, I’m happy.

Granted, I’m happier when I have coffee in my system, happier when I’m dancing, happier when there are plans for sushi, happier when words are coming properly through my fingers onto the page, happier when my friends and family are happy, happier when my hair isn’t frizzed out like a Brillo pad with Vancouver humidity. But yeah, happy. Generally.

That doesn’t mean things are perfect or ideal, or that I don’t have entire bucketfuls of growing to do (I’m going for 5′6″!), or that I wouldn’t mind spotting some cute boy hiding behind the clearance rack at Banana Republic.

That doesn’t mean that I don’t feel a twinge of something when I see pictures of dear friends looking about to pop with impending parenthood.

That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to go back and get my Masters in somethingorother more applicable to my life’s vocation than, say, A Comparative Study of Pre-War Germany and Post-Cold War Russia, With Consideration Given to Alternate Theories of Commerce.

That doesn’t mean I don’t wish I’d gotten John Legend tickets before they’d sold out.

It just means I’m on my way.

But how do you express that in a Facebook status bar, in 30 words or less, or through a small collection of photos that don’t have wedding cakes or scrunchy new baby faces or house renos in them?

I guess you can’t. And that’s fine.

I don’t need to be in the same place that everyone else is in to feel some sort of progress in my world.

I went through that angst in my twenties — that odd sensation when you realize your mother has made wedding dresses for half your friends and you’ve emceed more weddings than you remember attending and you’ve bought new sheets and towels for everyone you know except yourself.

In fact, your towels and sheets suck. Why do your sheets and towels suck?

Now, in my thirties, I think… well, Girl? You better just get over it. Even when it’s hard, just keep walking.

And get your own damn towels.

My plan might take shape a little differently and on a slightly less accelerated timeline than other people I know, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to be less content or satisfied in the end. In fact, all this waiting is giving me a chance to learn to communicate effectively, to figure out what I REALLY want, to become slightly less dependent on caffeine for personality development, to work out my health issues, and most of all, to finish the Wedding Ideas Scrapbook I’ve been working on for 15 years.

I’M KIDDING.

I DON’T HAVE ONE OF THOSE.

PEOPLE WITH PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORIES DON’T NEED SCRAPBOOKS.

STILL KIDDING.

No, all I know regarding my wedding is the following:

1. No cake
2. No long speeches
3. Outside
4. Quick ceremony
5. Long party
6. Even longer honeymoon

Oh yes… and the groom? I’m going to love him like the whole world depended on it.

Because it will.

What with him being a superhero or secret agent.

Or, you know, an accountant.

I don’t really care.

So here is to you, Facebook, for bringing me back to old friends, for making me think through my own priorities, and for making me frustrated that I can’t express my marital status as having a complicated relationship with Justin Timberlake.

Because it IS complicated.

He just doesn’t know it yet.