Kara & Michael’s Blog

I’m a stalker from way back, baby. As soon as I got your phone number, your bus-stop, I was all over you like tasty gluten is all over rice. I would find out your boy-scout troop, your class schedule, your after-school activities. I had friends in all places, lurking, watching and passing the information onto yours truly. This was no-technology stalking and reconnaissance. I creeped people out, made a few friends, but mostly creeped people out.

These days, with the internet, we can all be voyeurs – nay, we are all encouraged to be both voyeurs and exhibitionists.

The stalker is still pretty strong in me, so much so that I have seriously considered becoming a private investigator that insurance companies hire. I used to read the mail at my previous job and whenever one of the PIs wrote a letter, I got a kick out of their activity time-lines (6:42 Subject takes out trash. Observed lifting, bending and walking. 6:43 Subject enters house. Unknown if others are in house. Lose sight of subject until 6:45, when suspect exits house through garage door, carrying gun. At this point, I lost sight of subject because I drove frantically away)

But by the time I get home from work, the only thing I’m really interested in is living my life and not trying to pry into everyone else’s (Unless the naked woman across the parking lot with the open shades is visible). But I don’t really need to try – I can look at your blog, your facebook, your flickr, whatever. Yet, at the end of the day, I don’t know anything more about you, really. I have a lot of information and none of it matters and I don’t know why I waste my time. At least if I was a PI I’d probably be helping someone.

But sometimes all this readily available information can just be damaging to my mental health. Ever try finding people you used to be close to? Whatever information is there won’t make you feel better, well, it might make you feel better because you’re a better person than me, but it doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t change what happened, doesn’t magically make us all best friends, and you’re stuck holding onto this profile or picture or blog entry of someone who isn’t even the person you were friends with.

I think social networking sites are a load – if we didn’t stay friends in the first place, I don’t really want to hang out. There’s probably a few reasons we grew apart. I hate to be reminded that other people have replaced me in their lives, even though I know I’ve replaced those people in mine, too. Well, not really, I haven’t. I’ve replaced them with a cat, mostly. She likes to trip me after workouts and keep me up at night with her mischief.

I hope I don’t sound bitter. Sometimes I’m surprised how offended I still am over friendships I never had. Maybe stalking reveals more about ourselves than it does anyone else.

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