because I probably have enough 'imaginary' friends...

“Oh! You have a MySpace page, don’t you?” my friend enthusiastically inquired during a recent telephone conversation. “You must get one! Since I set one up, I’ve totally quit studying and watching television! All I do when I’m on the computer now is kill hours on MySpace.”

“Surely you can’t think that’s a stellar endorsement for MySpace, right?" I asked. "‘Join our community and become a slacker!'’”

This was to no avail, though. She's has been sucked in and I'm resigning myself to the fact that yet another of my friends is now pimping for this community website. At least two others are at me constantly to follow them into a realm I’ve shied away from like the dorky girl at the middle school mixers no one wants to dance with.

(Editorial comment No. 1 - The above metaphor may or may not be painfully accurate to my life. If you love me, you’ll not make a big deal about it. If you actually love me, I’m a little bit humbled and am perhaps blushing right now)

“Oh, you would love it!” she replied, not really answering me. “Seriously, it’s just lots of fun to hook up with people from your past. Besides, you’re so computer savvy, I’m shocked you don’t already have a page!”

(Editorial comment No. 2 – As with all of my “real life” acquaintances, my friend has no knowledge of my blog, therefore, she’s completely unaware of my raging inability to place a simple blog roll here. Therefore, to call me “computer savvy” is the best use of irony I can imagine)

“Sweetie, the impenetrable prison that is my resolve against peer pressure means you’re probably not going to break me on this issue. I got through my impressionable teen years without so much as taking a bong hit. You’d have to be pretty damn convincing to compel me to log any more time than I already do on a computer. Especially if you’re essentially saying MySpace sucks the soul out of you as easily as a lonely housewife getting her first hit of meth while the kids are in school. I’d have to think that wouldn’t be great for my borderline obsessive personality nor my stunning ability to just say no.”

(Editorial aside No. 3 – the above ‘housewife’ metaphor is definitely not about me. "Whew!" right?; however, I do have an obsessive personality, which is why my Rubbermaid containers are stacked symmetrically in the cupboard and the yogurt is organized by flavor, brand and expiration date in the fridge. Who are you to judge me, huh? Oh, OK, fine. Because all my toothpaste is stacked in the hall closet based on brand and size than fine, judging me is applicable)

“Well, if you had your own MySpace page, you could be my friend and we could talk,” was her reasoning.

Upon hearing that, I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at it briefly to assure myself I was using a device invented for sharing communication (also known as talking) with people. People, let's say for the sake of argument, who may be friends. When I returned it to my ear, I interrupted her.

“Um, sweetie? Aren’t we already friends? Don’t we talk a lot now? Face to face? When I want to see you – actually see you – isn’t it enjoyable for us to meet somewhere for coffee rather than logging onto a website to pass random thoughts back and forth as I view your family pictures cascading like rain down the screen, all set to the music of whatever Celine Dion song strikes your fancy that week?”

Clearly, my elaborately phrased question indicated to my friend that I had ventured into MySpace territory in the past. When she called me on it, I admitted I’d indeed been a voyeur a time or two. When another friend started raving about the website with such fervor I thought she’d pass out every time we spoke of it, I did search out her site. Alas, that other friend has used her MySpace page as a means of gathering up assorted men for "recreational activities," so why she continues trying to suck me in seems oddly uncomfortable. After viewing my other friend’s site (and feeling like I needed a shower afterward), it became clear to me rather quickly why I don’t have the desire to join in this particular sociological experiment. In addition to the "hooking up" aspect, my clarity includes the following -

- If I had a true desire to reconnect with the bitchy girls from my freshman year in high school, I’d go to my class reunions and sit smugly at the bar and make “fake nice” with them in the buffet line rather than send out computer requested “friend adds” in hopes they’d include me in their cliques.

- For the most part, I can spell correctly. For the handful of MySpace pages I’ve browsed, proper spelling and grammar is apparently of little use, and that sends my inner editor into a tangent that, honestly, is rather annoying for outsiders to witness.

- I honestly have no artistic appreciation for glittery graphics of fairies and unicorns, sleepy kittens urging me to “just hang in there,” or animated graphics of sloppy men vomiting or other such bodily things.

- The number of friends I have in real life can be easily counted on my fingers and toes. I feel that’s a pretty manageable number. Suddenly having to make nice with more than 200 people (assuming I wanted to be popular) seems like madness. This despite my obsessive personality and burning need to make sure everyone loves me!

I’m not about to judge the people who are enthralled with MySpace or the time they’ve devoted to their seizure-inducing layouts and clever musical choices, because honestly, I admit there have been moments when Blogger has come close to sucking the soul out of me. And don’t even get me started on the mind control properties I believe flickr possesses. I need no more computer-related vices in my life.

Besides, I rather enjoy watching television from time to time, and it's only slightly less mind numbing than I fear MySpace would be to me. However, I'm curious if any of you out there have a MySpace page and what it does for you, or why you've opted not to have one. Tell me all about it while I organize my silverware drawer and make sure all the towels are folded and put away crease side in, ok?