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Au revoir, ma ferme

Sometimes the end comes quickly. We go about our normal routine, thinking very little about what’s most important to us, letting the “lil things” get to us. And then, without warning, something or someone we love is gone. Perhaps even worse than the loss itself is the thought that “we never got to say goodbye.” We replay in our mind again and again the things we would have done differently in those end times. But we are fools, because we will never get those precious last moments back.

I am torn. I am angry and confused. I ask “why? why can I no longer play Farmville?” I wonder why Facebook would not want me to play the game that generates at least half of my visits to the site. I cannot fathom the logic behind Facebook’s suggestion engine that would bring it to this conclusion. Out of desperation, I wonder if I can get away with still playing Farmville while being a fan of the times I am not playing it. But would that be “having my cow and milking it too?”

I have to accept that nothing can change this. Putting my faith in Facebook’s Plan means doing as I’m told. Sometimes we make huge sacrifices in order to support the greater good. So I look on the bright side of things and admit that I have at least been given an opportunity to say goodbye to my farm.

I accept my last Farmville gift. I’m heartbroken that birds will never have a chance to bathe in this beautiful stone bath. (I click No.)

I say goodbye to my livestock, packed hoof to hoof, snout to tail in a tiny, filthy pen, much like real livestock that live on modern factory farms.

I say goodbye to the sad, lonely black kittens who I rescued from a neighbor’s farm, and the pumpkin they have shown affinity towards.

I say goodbye to my swarm of ducks that greet me and all visitors to my farm every day. I say goodbye to my turtles. I grieve for the tormented and ostracized ugly duckling who will never have the opportunity to grow into a beautiful swan, like his brothers have before him.

I decide to send one last gift to 24 of my closest neighbors: a pile of dead maple leaves, symbolizing that there can be beauty in death and joy in suffering.

As I send my final gift, something goes wrong.

Farmville tempts me with trickery - lies about “lost bits” in a desperate attempt to make me refresh, to visit my farm just “one last time.” I have made it this far; there is no turning back for me. I close the browser. The “real world” overwhelms me with a powerful bright light. Oh look, the sun!

Filed under fan farmville

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Becoming a Fan

I’ve been eagerly anticipating a “fan” suggestion. It’s a clue, indicating in which direction Facebook thinks I should grow. Much like a Christian who falls asleep at church every Sunday, I could very easily just click on “Become a Fan,” wipe my hands, and go about my normal life. But I don’t think that I would be “going literal” enough. I don’t think I could proudly say I’m a Facebooker, when I’ve tainted my profile with lies.

So what does it really mean when Facebook suggests I “become a fan?” What does it mean to truly be a fan? I guess that depends on what I am fanning.

I admit, I’ve never been to Tandem Bar Brooklyn NYC, but it has a chill name and a sick website. I view a few pictures of an olde-timey-looking interior on the page.

Looks pretty authentic.

I click Become a Fan… and I feel dissatisfied. It doesn’t feel right. I can’t be a fan of a place I’ve never been to. So I stop by Tandem Bar Brooklyn after work.

I sit down at the bar with a friend who is already a fan. We order “signature cocktails” from their menu, costing $13 each.

I get a Manhattan. My friend gets a spiked Mexican hot chocolate. Both are very tasty. My friend orders some kale and I order some olives. The bartender is thoughtful enough to set me a “place” despite that I am only having olives. It is possible that I could encounter an olive so large that I might need a knife. Can’t wait.

After we’ve finished our cocktails, we decide to get the PBR + a shot of whiskey special for $3. This is an amazing deal in NYC! And it’s a tall boy, to boot. Somehow, all of this is enough to get me feeling “pretty buzzed,” so we call it an evening and head home, bellies and heads humming.

Between the website, the menu, the $3 special, and the quality time had with a valued friend, my experience at Tandem was truly worthy of fandom. I feel grateful that Facebook has introduced me to such a chill spot. I look forward to seeing what other fandom-worthy entities Facebook shows me. I pulse with an excitement so electric and head back to Facebook to see what awaits…

Filed under fan tandem