No, I didn't defriend you

It's true: I committed Facebookicide. But it really wasn't anything you did or said. (Even you, Kim.) It also -- I swear -- is less about social withdrawal than it is -- I hope -- about engagement.

Here's what happened: German abruptly took a turn for the way more intense and unpleasant with the in-rotation of a real harridan of a teacher (and that character description is why this post appears on this blog and not my shiny new one -- the description is apt enough to overcome my distaste for gendered put-downs, and needs to be said). The resulting stress, plus a couple of other major life issues swirling around, caused the tectonic plates of the relationship to shift, and I sort of realized...hey, we're in for a rough ride for the next six months or so, and do I really want to document every little bump on Facebook? Because if it's there, I will.

Ok. So that part is about withdrawal, sort of, though I prefer the term "strategic disengagement."  But I also couldn't avoid the conclusion -- I tried -- that I was using the crutch of virtual friendships to avoid maintaining real ones. Not good. Then, too, the insta-expression of the Facebook feed was all the release valve I needed to avoid writing in either blog, and isn't pretty much any blog post, no matter how trivial or poorly-written, a better communication vehicle and a better practice of writerly discipline than "Esquiver is insanely happy that she hit a high A in choir tonight"? (I am, incidentally, happy beyond all proportion over that A, which was clear and pure and piercing and hardly seemed to come from me at all.)

Yadda yadda. Does this signal a (re-re-re-re-)renewed commitment to blogging? Oh Grasshopper, have we learned nothing about the futility of asking such questions?