Residing in the virtual land of Facebook

I'm not a very good citizen of Facebook.

There are the people who are very active; then there's me. There are people who have a lot to say -- sometimes too much to say; then there's me. There are people who get charged up about every little thing that's going on in Facebook nation; then there's me.

I guess the virtual world there at Facebook is like the real work here. I don't get too worked up one way or the other about the whole thing.

A lot of my tribe -- as in Baby Boomers -- are venturing into the virtual world of Facebook. In lieu of face-to-face visits or phone calls or letters or even email, it's a good way to be connected to family and friends. The updates give me a sense of who's doing what.

According to a recent statistic that was part of a technology post on USA Today's web site, 47 percent of Baby Boomers are active in social media and nearly three quarters of those social media activists have a Facebook account. Only 13 percent used Twitter.

As a self-employed writer for the web (we're called content producers) I'm active on the business side of Facebook with my Broad Cove Media page.

But I'm not so active on my personal Facebook page. I'm just an Average Joe.

It may be because I'm as confused about the Facebook world as I am about the real world sometimes. I just can't figure it out. I don't understand why certain people do what they do.

I kind of hang out at the edges (I'm a lurker, I think I'm called) and watch as the Facebook world spins around.

I don't get involved in the games that people play -- the Mafia Wars, for example. I didn't get involved in Doppeldanger Week when you were supposed to substitute your profile photo with the famous person who could be your twin.

I didn't bother with the 25 facts about myself and Urban Dictionary Week. I don't get too charged up everytime Facebook reorganizes everyone's page layout, which seems quite often.

At one point, the women with whom I'm friends on Facebook were writing comments with a color: purple or pink or black. It was totally lost on me. It wasn't until weeks later did I find out that women posted the color of the bra they were currently wearing to support breast-cancer awareness. Go figure.

"Lost" describes more than a confusing TV show. It can describe my life on Facebook.

The most telling portrait of the Facebook world came from my 22-year-old son David who was a Facebook user long before his old man.

His account was recently hacked; spam and links to potential sites with viruses were being posted in his name to his friends. So he deleted the account. He blew up his Facebook world. Frankly, he said, he doesn't miss it.

If Facebook disappeared tomorrow, would I miss it? Not really. I'm happy to be bopping along here in the real world.