I readily admit that I’m not a “Myspacer”.
Though it may offend a whole lot of people here, and I’m slightly sorry for that, I always thought MySpace was a glorified online dating and bragging service. “Oh, look at me, I’m so hot and my life is so wonderful. Add me as your friend and you’re life can be like this, too.” Again, I’m sorry if this offends anyone.
I’m sure some people would think the same things could be said for the “blogosphere”, but I just can’t see it that way. MySpace is anything BUT anonymous. There are pictures and links to family members and friends and people leave you visible messages related to your personal and private lives. People KNOW you.
That’s not, necessarily, true in the blogging world. You can be completely anonymous if you wish. You don’t have to have contact information, your real name, pictures, heck - - I read blogs that I think are completely fiction. Yeah, I could be wrong . . . but somehow, I doubt it. And as for pictures . . unless it's a picture of me as an 8 yr old or a baby, it's not being posted. I don't want someone I know surfing blogs of Arkansans and finding out I blogged about that time they threw their engagement ring into the middle of a crowded dancefloor.
I started blogging just to vent. I didn’t care if I got comments or not. That started to change somewhere along the lines. I would obsess over how many comments I was getting, who was leaving them and who wasn’t.
“Kelly* commented on my last three posts, but not this one. Gosh, did I offend her? Did she not like it? Has she stopped reading me? Oh crap, what did I do?”
And, I admit that I started making blogging friends. E-mails, IMs, I even exchanged phone numbers with a handful of bloggers. Last New Year’s Eve was spent with a blogger. We met for the first time two days before New Year’s. She drove down to AR and we spent a few days together partying and having a good time.
I could never say I regret involving the blog in my real life. I’ve met some amazing people who, at times, are even closer to me than the people in my real life - - because the anonymity is comforting. I don’t have to worry that they’re going to go running to the people I vent about and cause some huge 8th grade dilemma of he said, she said. It’s (for the most part) drama free.
From what I’ve heard about MySpace, it’s nothing but drama. I can’t count the number of grown-adult-people I’ve heard start a conversation with “And this crazy ho that I don’t even know left a comment on my profile talking crap about me!” Lord save me.
But now we’re getting to the point of this whole post.
I DO have a MySpace account. Until today, I’d never even visited my own profile (which, by the way, is completely devoid of any information).
I signed up for it to view pictures and blog entries that friends had emailed me about and said “Please check this out!”
And since stupid MySpace is completely unlike Blogspot and you HAVE to have an account to view ANYTHING, I very reluctantly typed in my email address and a password.
And after a few brief stints checking out Tara’s new baby pictures, Grant’s blog entry and about his jack-butt boss and photos of James's new husband (I admit that this one was “spying”, he had constantly denied he was gay – but suddenly got married to a boy when he was safely out of AR), I forgot all about it.
I knew I had signed up for it, it was always there in the back of my mind, but I never visited, never put any information on my profile, never nothing.
Well, I woke this morning to an e-mail from a friend saying “Get on MySpace and go to my profile, then click on my pictures. I had Michael upload all the pictures of the new house and you’ve GOT to see it!”
Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go look at the pictures.
I type in her MySpace url. I click on pictures. It kicks me to the “You must be logged in to do that!” page. I type in my email address, type in my password and am greeted with “Invalid password”. Do what, huh?
I try it two more times before having the MySpace gods e-mail me a new password. When that finally occurred, I signed in to look at the house pictures. But before it let me view the pictures, it kicked me to “My profile”. Something I’d never even looked at. There’s a little icon on there that says “New Messages.” Call me curious, I clicked on it.
Oh my goodness.
I had like 98 messages.
Messages from people I didn’t know.
Messages from people I’d known in college, but hadn’t spoken to in years.
Messages from people in the blog world.
Messages, messages, messages.
Most of which made NO sense to me.
Some of which were HOSTILE.
“Oh! You can’t return people’s calls anymore but you can spy on me on MySpace. I’m going to set my profile to private so you can’t see anything anymore!” (from James and his new husband)
“Glad you’re finally on MySpace! Add me so you can see the new pictures up of me and Charles!” (this from some girl in New York that I have NO knowledge of)
“I didn’t even know you’d signed up! Why haven’t you commented on my page, snob??” (a blogger I adore much!)
Why DO so many MySpacers use exclamation points at the end of every sentence?
But what freaked me out were the hostile messages. Or messages from people I didn’t’ know, but seemed to know me somehow, someway.
And now I’m all completely paranoid.
It’s not like it’s hard to figure out my password.
Easy, breezy. And, I do that thing that NO ONE is supposed to do because I have NO memory: I use the same two passwords for everything on the planet.
It’s more than obvious to me that someone has been using my password and account to play Super Stalker.
But what I can’t get is who these people they were stalking were and WHY they were stalking them.
It has to be someone I know: Who else would care about James and his new husband?
But it must be someone that blogs, too, because there were bloggers on there with messages like: “You’ve finally converted! And you said it would never happen! Leave me a comment!”
So now, I’m going through the process of visiting the profiles of all these messages and trying to figure out how they link up. Maybe, just maybe, if I can put the pieces together just right I can figure out what psycho has been using my good name to spy on other people.
Drama. The one thing I was avoiding by NOT being a MySpacer, still somehow manages to jump up and bite me on the butt.