She appears in the lower right hand corner of my screen–a Kelly green dot by her name. My best buddie from the mid-80s in NYC. My once-roomie who abondoned me to LA and a life of alternative folk-rock. There she is, right at my fingertips. I click, and the conversation box opens.
She writes back.
The ice is broken. She tells me about the project she’s involved in by sending a hyperlink, and she wants to know if I had a chance to look at the funny cat video she posted today.
Did you see the video I posted about the turtle raping a shoe?
She has not seen it but tells me to “hold on” so that she can go watch hit now.
I stare at the screen and the blank conversation box, wondering how she likes the video and if she is laughing. I consider navagating away from the page and try to remember how long the video is…a minute, two? I stare at the blank screen, and a message pops up in the conversation box telling me that my friend is now friends with Ted L. She is checking her inbox while I stare at the chat screen. I am ready to navigate away when she pops back on to tell me how weird the turtle thing was…
Yes. I thought so, too. But it was so unusual that I had to post it when I saw it.
Another message pops up.
I have to clean my house and get some Jasmine tea. Give me your number again, and I’ll call you over the weekend.
I give her my number and wonder why she suddenly needs Jasmine tea.
The chat window closes, and she is gone. Twenty years of not speaking to each other…a continent away, and our exchange was meaningless, trite, over in less than 2 mintues. I look once again at the friend list at the corner of my screen and see that her green dot is still beside her name, indicating that she is now chatting with someone else–Ted, perhaps. Not cleaning. Not drinking Jasmine tea. Just having another “chat” with another online “friend.”
I log out of my social networking site and open my blog to think…