Sixteen years ago I was DESPERATELY trying to get a hold of a certain guy because, well, probably because I was a teenage girl. I dialed his number every 10 minutes thinking maybe he will be home this time. The next day he asked me what I wanted because his mom said my number was on the caller ID like 50 times (a bit of an exaggeration I hope). My face was bright red and my jaw was on the floor. CALLER ID!? I had heard of caller ID, but we didn’t have it. The thought never occurred to me that someone could see who called, when, and how often! I felt so embarrassed. Violated would be another way to describe it, like secret information about me had been unleashed. That was 1995.

Fast forward about ten years, to the first day I heard about myspace. It’s the latest thing, You will love it, Everyone’s doing it, is what I was told. I didn’t get it. Why do we need a space? Are people going to be able to reach me through this new fangled website? I reluctantly signed on and my profile picture was a photo of a chicken because that is how I felt about the whole experience, like a big scared chicken. It didn’t take long however to become completely engrossed. Then there was FaceBook, and then there was Twitter, and Tumbler, and Linkden…The truth is when I said hello to my space (or you fill in the blank) I said good bye to my personal space. The person who was shocked about how revealing caller ID was, is now the one who is blogging almost daily to thousands HUNDREDS a bunch of people I don’t even know.My friend Katie said it well in a post that she wrote about Virtual Life vs Real Life“I have to wonder how these devices interrupt our daily living so that we can keep up with our virtual living. Suddenly we can’t enjoy a delicious meal without telling hundreds of people about it instantly. We can’t take a trip somewhere without uploading a million photos as soon as we arrive home. I’ve even read Facebook statuses of women updating while in labor, usually telling 400 of their closest friends about the measurement of their cervix or how lovely the epidural is.”Of course there is a positive element to this additional life that we live online and we all know it. My friend Katie is a prime example. You’ll have to excuse the exposed film in this photo as if the clothing didn’t date it enough. I lived with Katie (shown left) and her family for a while when my parents moved to Texas in the middle of my 8th grade year. I shared a room with her sister/my best friend Melissa (on the right, and I am in the middle). We shared clothes, we laughed and ate chunky monkey while watching pop up videos on VH1. I was there when Katie revealed her tattoo to her mother. We talked about our new boyfriends, we cried about our latest breakups, there was even some skinny dipping somewhere in there. With the girls, at night, acting silly. NOT the boyfriends. We were wild, but not like that.Then I moved away, and we gradually lost touch. Addresses, last names, and phone numbers changed and I didn’t talk to them for years until myspace came along. Thanks to the connectivity that we have through the internet I know that Melissa has two beautiful girls and Katie has a sweet baby boy. Because of Katie’s blog, Mama the Reader,I know that the people that I affectionately called grandmother and granddaddy are doing well and growing some amazing vegetables, and have goats now! I wouldn’t have known any of this before social networking and I would be left with our memories, and just hope that they were all doing well. So, I will be the first one to vouch that being connected is not a bad thing, but where do we draw the line? That is what I am currently trying to find out.