A week without ... facebook.com

I am a Facebook stalker. I am not really proud of it, but I admit my Facebook addiction flies right past the normal obsession level and lands itself in the middle of the sketch zone. It's probably normal to keep track of your friend requests, people's pictures and wall posts. What's not normal? Keeping track of the relationship drama of random (non-Princeton) people who regularly comment in discussion threads of the group, "There are some things girls should do for guys period." Chances are you have experienced my nosiness if you have a) never talked to me before and b) written a popular note about your life that is none of my business. Giving up Facebook for a week gave me some time to think about my addiction and see whether I could live without it.

Since I joined, Facebook has slowly started to replace my rational thinking. In high school, if I had a 10-page paper that was worth 60 percent of my grade, I would have finished it a week early, after having sent a draft to my teacher ahead of time. By contrast, on Dean's Date at 3:30 a.m., I had six pages to go with four pages of crap behind me. But for some reason, I still thought it was appropriate to take Facebook breaks. They were not 10-minute quickies either, but hour-long sessions of thrilling internet socialization.

Still, finishing that paper seemed like a much easier task than giving up Facebook for a week. I usually average one to two wall posts, friend requests or tagged photos a week. But as luck would have it, during my week off, I would get two to three Facebook e-mails a day. Not logging onto Facebook was hard. Not clicking to see tagged photos of myself was even harder.

Webmail became a minefield for Facebook temptation, but I developed a system that produced the least amount of misery. The trick was to delete the Facebook email a-long with a series of other emails at just the right speed. I got into the habit of deleting Facebook e-mails in between deleting the emails from the Forbes College Office and Public Safety to ease the temptation.

Like every addict who stops cold turkey, I had withdrawal symptoms. In preparation for this assignment, I warned several of my friends that my behavior might be different due to a lack of Facebook. I don't think they really took my warning, or even listened to it, very seriously.

About midway through the week, Facebook added a new feature to its service (my editors have great timing). It seemed like this feature, and the drama that came with it, were all anyone was talking about. I kept hearing, "So-and-so didn't give me a present." Or, "I don't know who to give my one present to, they are both my friends." After a day of feeling like a kindergartener who didn't get a Valentine because she was left off the class roster, I had almost reached my limit.

I walked up to a group of my friends expecting to get my mind off Facebook and onto "real" social interaction. Instead, the first question I was greeted by was, "Naomi, have you seen the new Facebook feature?" I did what anyone in my situation would do. I stuck my fingers in my ears and screamed, "I can't hear you! I can't hear you!" Then I yelled a series of indecipherable words and ran to my room. At that moment, the irrational part of me decided that I would just have to give up real friends for the rest of the week, since obviously I couldn't avoid Facebook any other way. But what would I do with my time?

I took up knitting, which became my new obsession. I had recently acquired the skill, predicting it would be another one of my abandoned passions. Armed with my friend's needles and dollar-store yarn, however, I knitted with fervor. The methodic movement of my hands and visible progress seemed to calm me down. After a healthy session of knitting, I no longer felt the need to be a hermit. My friends' chorus of laughter at my "episode" seemed to make a little more sense.

Was this week just a momentary fluke? I probably won't be quite the stalker I once was, but I think my Facebook addiction is here to stay. As for knitting, it became an effective procrastination tool that is just to good to pass up. But at least I won't be deleting those e-mails from the volunteer knitting club, "Hats for the Homeless," anymore! I won't have to delete them with Facebook photo e-mails, either.