I AM THE ANTI BLOGGER. Which is like the anti Christ, but with less flames.

Speaking as a Facebook addict, I am not adjusting easily to my recent admission into the blogospere.

I love the speed, immediacy and chattiness of Facebook. The lightning quick rolling conversations that can move to private messages for added intimacy. The wonderful silliness in telling my friends about the trivialities of my life, and the joy of reading their daily musings in turn. The memes, the cat pictures, the occasional bitchslap where you go ‘all capslock’ on someone. I love the control of Facebook, knowing that the only people reading my mindless blather are dear and trusted confidantes. Facebook is the sun-drenched noisy tearoom of cyber space. The clatter of cups, the waft of freshly brewed tea and coffee. Delicate cakes and tiny savoury morsels of yumminess consumed between snippets of gossip.

I was never attracted to MySpace, which now reeks like a truck stop cafe that nobody of interest frequents. A limited menu, dirty plates piled high and the odd scampering of a fat cockroach. I can almost hear the boards being nailed up on the windows and the foreclosed sign being hammered into the ground out front. Twitter is the fast food of the social media world. A drive through micro conversation that doesn’t really satisfy as it can never be upgraded to a full meal. Are Wikis just a poor man’s chatrooms? A small club with limited membership and a single minded ideal? Far too reminiscent of the tedious committee meetings I endured during my ‘community spirited overly involved parent’ phase. All stale bun, weak tea and soggy biscuits. And Virtual Worlds – the cyber smorgasbord of escapism. All you can eat – and when you have had your fill, all your multiple personalities can eat. Then there is the Blog. A rant monger’s paradise, open to all who care to peer through its yellowing net curtains. It is the public bar of social media. Poor lighting, sticky carpet and the heady stench of stale beer.

As my heart clearly belongs to Facebook, I can’t imagine there would be room (a chatroom?) in my life for any other forms of social media. Could I ever be adulterous in my social networking? Am I capable of cyber infidelity? Am I the faithful wife who never types her way into another online bed, or will I be seduced by the delicious narcissism of anonymous ranting?