After a couple of years of sweating over each syllable, I suddenly needed the words. I hungered to write them. On vacations, my family urged me to take a break and I
became cranky. What happened? How did the words begin to grow like wildflowers
that I no longer had to coddle?
On my neglected Facebook page sits an even more neglected
"Like" button. Although I read what others post and occasionally add a comment,
I grumpily avoid this particular feature. Technology based on personal
preferences-a rapidly expanding group that includes Hunch, Pandora, various
Google products and others-is a source of anxiety for me.
I agree with a lot of Cathleen Falsani's piece
on The Social Network, in which she
praises Facebook's capacity for reconnecting real-world friends and reinforcing
existing community. But she loses me when she suggests this is the site's purpose.
David Fincher's The Social Network, with a script by the monarch of machine-gun banter, Aaron Sorkin (The West Wing), is a smart, funny film that tells the story of how Facebook came into being. It's a comedy of manners about a desperately uncool Harvard undergrad who creates the most popular club in the world and declares himself president.
Rarely do I see a film when
it first comes out, but I'm very glad I chose to see The Social Network on its box-office-dominating opening weekend. It was
brilliant-a fantastic script by Aaron Sorkin, skillfully directed by David
Fincher. It tells the story of Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) and his
friends and Facebook cofounders, but the film isn't just about Facebook.
"Oreon told me she’s praying for you,” my husband, Gary, said in between bites. We were having dinner one night when I was having a particularly stressful time at work. Gary is a pastor at a downtown Chicago church, and Oreon is one of the staff members there. “Why is Oreon praying for me?” I asked. I hadn’t had more than a passing hello with Oreon in weeks. “She saw your Facebook status message,” he said.