Dave Matthews Band

When I first heard about them, I hated Dave Matthews Band. Not necessarily because of their music–I seem to vaguely recall enjoying the first few measures of the chorus to “So Much to Say” in late middle school–but because of what I thought they stood for.

DMB first came onto my radar as a junior in high school. At the time I was something of a metalhead, and into bands like Pantera and Metallica. I had hair down to my shoulders and wore my two Pink Floyd t-shirts regularly in my wardrobe rotation. I couldn’t stand the preppie kids at school, or their music–and not for any particular reason. I was a rebel without a clue.

My fellow long-haired buddy Tom started dating a preppie girl sometime in the fall of junior year, and he basically ditched me for several months. He was the same kind of guy that I was, but he changed when he started dating her. His grades got better, his attitude sunnier, and, much to my disgust, he started listening to the same music she liked. In short, my friend had outgrown me. I remember giving Tom a lot of crap about how he was selling out by listening to the same music all those hair-spiking, collared-shirt-wearing, good-grade-earning kids we hated as a rule in high school–not that we knew any of them first-hand. As my friend continued to spend time with his girlfriend, and I struck out on my own, my feelings for Dave Matthews Band didn’t seem like they would be changing any time soon.

The best thing I did in high school was get a job. It got me out of the house, away from my family (we both needed a break from one another), and away from some poor influences in my neighborhood. I spent time as a cashier and stockboy at the local K-Mart, and later obtained gainful employment at a dying grocery store down the street from my high school. Getting a job offered me a sense of self-worth that I hadn’t had in years, gave me something resembling a social life, and put some money in my pocket. Rather than grow my savings account for college or use it to buy much-needed in-style clothing, I blew most of it on CDs. At one time, my collection numbered over five hundred discs. I would get my check, cash it, and proceed to go to the local used-CD store, Best Buy, and Blockbuster music. Every payday. In that order. I’d typically come home with six or seven new discs at a time, some of which I would dislike, and I would return to the used-CD store and sell my wares, sometimes hours later.

One late-Spring or early Summer night sometime between the end of junior year and the beginning of senior year, I was at Best Buy, scanning the CD racks, when I thought to myself that I should have a Dave Matthews Band CD for my collection. “Even if I only listen to it a couple of times, every self-respecting music collector should have at least one of their albums, right?” Months after my buddy ditched me for his girlfriend, my attitudes had begun to mellow. I knew DMB had a solid live reputation, so I purchased the double-disc Live at Red Rocks 8.15.95. I got home and fired up my family’s Macintosh computer and put in disc one because… well, that’s when I listened to most of my music–when I was messing around on AOL, chatting with friends.

The first track that came on was “Seek Up.” Within the first few notes, I was immediately hooked. Something about the intro to the song called to mind warm summer nights, girls, romance, sex, and the longing I felt for all of those things at seventeen. The song is thirteen and a half minutes long–too long by my standards at that time–but the music was able to cut through my short attention span and captivate me. Then, as now, I daydream almost always when I’m listening to music. “Seek Up” took me far away from my parents living room, or their basement, or my headphones. I had to hear more.

The rest of Live at Red Rocks was pretty good too. Dave was pretty good at ad-libbing creative lyrical intros and outros, and even throws in a reference to John Denver’s “Sunshine on my Shoulders” during one of them. The music was upbeat, fun, and sexy at different parts. I was hooked.

As my senior year began, I did what I always did when I became obsessed with a band: I blew most of my paychecks on their entire catalog. While I didn’t even have a CD player (or cassette player, for that matter) in my car, I managed to listen to each of DMB’s past releases on my headphones before I slept, on my stereo as I wrote in my journal, and whenever I was on America Online chatting with friends.

The music became the background to my daydreams, as I fantasized about cute girls I saw in the halls at school, or in the aisles at the grocery store. Where once I had dreamed apocalyptic fantasies to Metallica, no my daydreams were… romantic. My attitude had changes as well. I wasn’t the dark, negative, angry person I had been before. I was more upbeat and positive that I had been at any time since I was a kid. The music wasn’t necessarily the cause of my mood change, but it was an influence.

I entered college in the summer of 2000, at the tail end of the zenith of Dave Matthews Band’s popularity. Walking around campus, you’d occasionally hear the music blaring from open windows, and posters of Dave Matthews playing a guitar could be seen in living rooms at house parties. The band’s music was the music of fratboys, sorority girls, and some of the stoners.

I craved new releases by the band and when Everyday finally came out in February of 2001, I downloaded a few of the tracks on Napster (remember that?!) on my roommates’ desktop computer and… found myself disappointed. Everyday wasn’t the sound of Dave Matthews Band. It was the sound of Dave Matthews, studio “magic,” and producer Glenn Ballard. The release was popular, and produced a couple of hits that I didn’t care for, but I was nearly heartbroken. It wasn’t just that the sound of the band had changed or evolved–it was that the band had gone in a completely different direction, leaving it’s unique sound behind. The band’s first four major albums, Under the Table and Dreaming, Crash, and Before These Crowded Streets represented a natural evolution of the band’s unique sound. For my money, Everyday was a total departure from what made the band fun. Their sound had became sterile and uninteresting.

Slowly, I began to lose interest in the band that had been my favorite for years. I enjoyed Busted Stuff when it came out, but the music on that album had actually been written several years before it was actually released. I saw DMB a couple of times in concert, at the New World Music Theater/Tweeter Center/Whatever It’s Called Today, and was disappointed. The venue, whatever it’s name, has a horrendous sound. Seeing Dave Matthews and Friends at the Allstate Arena in December of 2003 was good, but my heart wasn’t as into the music as it had been before.

For a long time, I got away from DMB until I bought my own place shortly before I was married. Once my wife and I started spending time on the deck in the backyard, I started playing some of my old favorite from the end of high school and early college. I still found the music to be fun, enjoyable, upbeat, and perfect for drinking beers outdoors in warm weather.

The music I was daydreamed to has now become the background music and summer get-togethers with friends. The music today often serves as time travel for me, like all great music does from past periods of one’s life.

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A Look Back, Part II

My second entry in an intermittent series of flashbacks to old journal entires. This one finds me at Christmas break, age twenty-one, in my junior year of college. The previous fall I had gone though a bad breakup, and was still recovering months later. 

January 7, 2003

Christmas break has been enjoyable, if boring at most times. I’ve spent time with Becky, Jeff, Tom, and my family, which I miss at school. Becky’s visit went by in a breeze and it seemed that she was only here for a couple of days. Jeff and I have seen each other quite a bit, and we always seem to miss each other more than we think. He’s a great friend, my best friend, and as the breaks have ended, I’ve always been sad to leave him on his way. He knows me well, like most of my friends at school, but Becky and him know my history, unlike the others at school. As always, I promise myself that I’ll keep in better touch with him while I’m at school. 

My attitude towards girls is changing. While I’m lonely here at home, I think those feelings will change once I get back to school and get busy. I definitely don’t want a serious relationship now. I’d like to just date, but I worry that I’d give off the wrong idea and hurt someone’s feelings. It seems that most girls want a serious relationship or nothing at all, rather than just a date, a kiss, and that’s all. Between all or nothing, I’ll take nothing–for now. However, I intend to keep my eyes open. If the right girl comes along, I’ll jump at the chance to be with her. So I’m not really looking, but if a girl comes along I’m up for it. 

I wonder what the new semester will bring. I hope it’s just as fun as the last one. There’ll be drinking and girls and adventure I’m sure. 

I still go for walks every night here at home. I talk to myself a lot, mostly about friends and where my life is going, where I may end up. I feel alone out there and safe enough to keep my thoughts private as I speak them aloud. I’ve done it nearly every night that I’m home on break, and it’s something that I’ve done since I moved into this neighborhood in 1994. I got into the habit of it in the falls and winters in high school and now it’s a regular part of my routine here at home. It helps me clear my head and gives me some time alone. I talk to myself a lot–always have–and I enjoy doing it as I enjoy the night. Tom used to go on them too, for the same reasons, I think. 

The year 2003 was good to me. I ended up meeting some girls, having fun at school, and earning good grades. In the summer, I followed the Chicago Cubs in their most ill-fated of seasons. And I kept in touch with my friends. 

I still go for walks. 

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On Journaling

I started my first journal when I was seventeen years old, in the Fall of 1998. After a turbulent start to high school, I began to turn things around for the better in my junior year. I ditched a few of my friends that weren’t good influences (and some of them ditched me), and I went on my own for a while. I had a job as a cashier at K-Mart, and in the time spent apart from my former friends and the life-sucking black hole that had become my neighborhood, I became more introspective.

The first journal, which I probably bought at K-Mart after work one night.

My first journal, which I probably bought at K-Mart after work one night.

I don’t remember the specifics, but I picked up two notebooks one fall day, probably from K-Mart with my ten percent discount. One was going to be used as a journal and the other was for writing down the short stories, daydreams, and poetry I had had growing in my mind for years.

During my junior year of high school, I filled both of them up completely with my thoughts, writing during study halls, in my parents’ basement at night, and occasionally in class. Writing in a journal helped to center me, and became a regular ritual for me throughout the second half of high school. It also made me a better writer, which in turn made me into a better student, and I’m convinced that it had a lot to do with helping me get accepted to college–something that I didn’t think possible a year or two before. I grew tremendously as a person during those final years in high school, and I feel that keeping a journal and reflecting regularly on my life helped make me into a better person.

Once in college, I continued to write, though more sporadically. I came to find that when I was active and engaged in school, partying, or a relationship, I tended to write less than I would when I was at my folks’ place, and had more time and boredom on my hands.

I kept a journal from the autumn of 1998 to the winter of 2003, when I suddenly stopped writing. I realize that I stopped because I became even more heavily involved in college work and adventures, though I find myself wishing all of these years later that I had made the time to write, because it would have been fun for me to relive those days from time to time. I didn’t pick up a journal until the spring of 2005 when I was given a Visa gift card as a gift from my cooperating teacher during my student teaching experience. The night I got it, I went to Barnes and Noble, half-drunk from celebrating my last college assignment, and purchased a small leather-bound journal.

For the first time in my life, I made the time to write about my adventures as they were happening, or at least the morning or afternoon after they happened, if I wasn’t too hungover. I enjoy reading this notebook more than my others because it documents an exciting time in my life, and not just a time in which I was bored and simply making observations about the things going on around me.

I concluded that journal in 2007 and haven’t written much since, other than a few causal entries in a Word document. I sometime wish I still made the time to write and reflect, but I always seem to find excuses.


Throughout those years when I was writing, I began to read more too, and the more I reflected on what I was writing and reading, the more introspective I became. I began to think deeply about the kind of person I was, my past, and, most importantly, who I wanted to become. If you were to read the journals, you could see the development of my character, in tiny increments. I grew from a teenager with a chip on his shoulder into a romantic, idealistic college student, and then into a more worldly, and slightly cynical young man.

Every couple of years, I go back to my writing and relive those times in my life, just for a few minutes at a time. I’m amazed at how negative and angry I was in high school. I’m struck by my unabashed idealism, particularly as it related to love, early in college. And I find myself drawing energy from reading of some of my post-college adventures.

I miss some of those times, but I’m also thankful to be living the life I am right now, settled down, with a wife, good job, and a baby on the way. In many ways, I don’t think I would be here if I hadn’t taken the time to periodically reflect on my life, what was going on, and where I wanted to be.

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Books I Want My Kids to Read

In the middle of the night I had an idea to write a blog post about the books I would want my kids to read at different points in their childhoods. I chose one book for the following time periods: Before They Can Read, Elementary School, Middle School, and High School. Here’s what I chose:

Before They Can Read

Oh the Places You’ll Go, Dr. Seuss

One of my favorite rhymes...

One of my favorite rhymes…

This book beat out Green Eggs and Ham. That title was the first book I remembered my  father reading to me when I was small, and it would have made the list for purely nostalgic purposes. I decided to go with Oh the Places You’ll Go instead because of its message and I think it’s more of a fun rhyming story than Green Eggs and Ham.

Oh, the Places You’ll Go is fun to read, especially for little guys, but it also has a theme of the importance of seeking adventure throughout one’s life. I imagine reading this to my own children when they’re very small before bedtime.

Elementary School

Maniac Magee, Jerry Spinelli

The cover from the first edition of Maniac Magee, the one I read in fourth grade.

The cover from the first edition of Maniac Magee, the one I read in fourth grade.

I first read Maniac Magee in fourth grade, not long after the book came out. At that point, my elementary school days and years were long and seemed to stretch on forever. I remember spending a lot of time in class daydreaming and staring out the window when I could get away with it.

The book’s theme of overcoming racism is the reason that it’s on so many elementary and middle school reading lists. Heck, I used to teach it to my own classes of sixth grade language arts students. For me though, the book was pure escapism. It’s about a kid not much older than me at the time that didn’t go to school, and did what he wanted. I loved that thought, especially in those long, dull days in elementary school.

In a sense, it’s On the Road for kids.

Middle School

Scientific Progress Goes Boink (Calvin and Hobbes), Bill Watterson

Quiet possibly, this is a mirror image of me explaining something ridiculous to my own child one day.

Quiet possibly, this is a mirror image of me explaining something ridiculous to my own child one day.

I could have picked any of the Calvin and Hobbes books, but this was the first one I read.   It’s a book of comics, so it’s a relatively simple read, even for kids in elementary school. That said, I think that Watterson’s sense of humor appeals to adults and adolescents, as well as younger kids.

I picked this book for middle school because that’s when I think kids can begin to truly appreciate the off-beat and intellectual humor in Calvin and Hobbes. Plus, the art is fantastic.

There’s a nostalgic quality to the comics too. When I began reading them in seventh grade or so, I’d think back to more innocent, happier times in my life when I was around Calvin’s age–first grade or so–and wasn’t struggling with the pressure of adolescence. I experienced a certain wistful feeling, even at that young age, about a time gone by in my life.

High School

On the Road, Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac

On the Road was the book that changed my life. A guy I worked with at a grocery store in high school told me about it. I read it when I was seventeen or eighteen, but didn’t truly appreciate it until I read it again as a freshman in college.

Growing up in the suburbs is actually a positive experience if you ask me. It’s safe, and there’s plenty to do when you’re a kid. Plus, you don’t know any other life. But when you get to high school, you get pretty bored a lot. I’m convinced that’s why so many high school kids drink, try drugs, or get into trouble. If they’re not involved in constructive activities, they’ll become destructive–I know I did. This book taught me that there was an entire life outside of the suburbs, and that people have adventures in real life–it’s not just something that people do in the movies.

Reading this book taught me that there’s adventure to be had everywhere–in the suburbs, on a college campus, and on the road, visiting distant friends and family. My mantra of choice, carpe diem, was inspired by reading about Jack Kerouac’s (Sal Paradise) travels hitchhiking and driving across the country to party with friends and chase girls.

I would want my kids to read this to show them that there’s nothing wrong with living an ordinary life, but there are also times to seize the day and step out of your comfort zone and into the wider world.

Honorable Mentions

Watership Down, by Richard Adams

A Wrinkle in Time, Madeline L’Engle

What do you want your kids to read? Is there anything I missed?

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The World Cup–A Growing Obsession

My background in soccer is limited to the seasons I played for my park district when I was in early elementary school. In three years, I never scored a goal. The closest I came was in the fall of first grade–I was on the Green Dragons–and I found myself dribbing the ball away from everyone else. I was alone–I’m still not sure where the other team’s goalie had run off to–and approaching the goal. But I had never scored one before. I suddenly became nervous and… I intentionally kicked the ball out of bounds. Needless to say, I never made it on the pitch.

While I usually prefer baseball, (American) football, or hockey to soccer, the last few World Cup events have increasingly attracted my attention, mostly because of the spectacle of the world’s greatest sporting event, but also because the Chicago Cubs have been terrible in the 2006, 2010, and 2014 summers.

I enjoy the spectacle of the event more than the games themselves, though I’ve cultivated a novice’s interest in the sport the last few Cup competitions. I love the rivalries between the nations, the buildup to a corner kick or penalty shot, and the excitement of the crowd that often seems to leap off of the television screen into my living room… or into my office at work. I like watching the world’s best players compete for their home countries too. It’s been a treat to see Lionel Messi score live on television, rather than on some SportCenter replay, and Cristiano Ronaldo broke my heart when he scored the latest regulation goal in World Cup history against the United States Sunday evening.

What has made this competition more interesting than anything else to me is the U.S. team, whose coach openly stated that the team had no chance of winning the tournament, has played in two exciting group stage games against Ghana (a serious rival) and Portugal (with the above-mentioned Ronaldo, perhaps the best player on the planet). The Yanks have a solid chance of making it to the Round of 16 as well. For the first time ever, I’ve heard soccer discussed on sports talk radio. There have been large outdoor gatherings in big cities in the U.S. of people just to watch the games. You get the sense that soccer is coming into its own in the United States, and it has been great fun.

Soccer fans gather to watch the World Cup at Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois.

Soccer fans gather to watch the World Cup at Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois.

Once the tournament is over, I’m sure that I’ll go back to watching my Cubs, Bears, and Blackhawks–I don’t follow Major League Soccer, and the few European league games shown on TV are at strange hours–but I’ll anticipate the 2018 World Cup in Russia, and hope for continued American success and growth in the world’s most popular game.

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On the Way You Speak of Your Wife… and to Servers

Yesterday I took half of a day off of work to go to a favorite brewery of mine with some buddies for lunch. The trip started off nice enough, and the food and beer were great, as always, but some of the conversations in the car and at the lunch table got me thinking about the kind of guy I want to be and be seen as, and also… the kind of guy I don’t want to be.

While most of the day was jovial and upbeat, the more beers that were had turned the conversation tasteless and, eventually one incident got us kicked out of the establishment. Two of the guys I was with relentlessly bashed their wives and marriages for most of the time we were eating and drinking. Their complaints weren’t even about specific incidents or traits of their wives, only that they felt it generally sucked having to share your life with someone else.

Does anyone, married or single, really want to hear about how much your wife annoys you? What image do you think people get of you when you’re constantly complaining about your spouse, and saying terrible things about him/her, especially to people you barely know?

The final straw was when one of my colleagues made an incredibly tasteless comment to our server; something about what kind of underwear she was–or wasn’t–wearing. The check was promptly brought to us by a male staff member, who threw down the bill on our table and said, “Okay guys, time to go.” I was mortified to be associated with this man in the moment. At least the guy who made the comment paid for everyone’s bill, but that doesn’t redeem him with the one person that counted most in the exchange–the female server.

Am I being uptight? Is that simply The Way Men are Supposed to Talk?

After I got home a couple of the people I was with began texting me and each other about how disgusted we all were by the man’s behavior. We’re reaching out to the establishment and the server to make amends. I was glad that they shared my feelings regarding the incident, but remained ashamed that I had even been sitting at the same table as some of these guys.

I made a very conscious decision after I had been married for about a year that I wouldn’t be one of those guys–the guys that are obviously miserable being married and complain about their spouses. Not only is it the opposite of the man I want to be, it’s also the opposite of the way I want to be seen by other people in general. Nobody likes to hear about how miserable your marriage is, or how your spouse is a jerk/bitch/good-for-nothing/loser. Deserved or not, I tend to think less of the people that speak that way of their husbands and wives. I understand that people need to vent from time to time, and that marriage can be stressful. Frankly, I know from experience that it can be difficult living with someone else. But if you’re miserable in your relationship, there’s an appropriate way to go about expressing it. On top of that, the complainer is 50% of the marriage, and has, if you ask me, some of the blame for being miserable more often than not.

If you’re miserable in your relationship/marriage, make changes, communicate, and vent at appropriate times to someone you trust. But no one, especially no one you just met, wants to hear the terrible things you have to say about your marriage or your spouse. It only makes people respect you less.

And always be nice to your server.

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Why I Left Social Media… Well, with Three Exceptions…

This past week I deactivated my Instagram, which was my last major social media account. I’ve been off of Facebook for two years, off of Twitter for over a year and a half, and away from MySpace for the better part of a decade.

The question is, when so many people my age (early-30s) inundate their lives with social Anti-Facebookmedia, why would I go (nearly) completely dark? There’s a few reasons.

First of all, I found that when I was on social media, I was spending too much time on it. I was constantly checking my Facebook or Twitter feeds when I was bored or had a spare minute, or even during TV commercials. I felt obligated to keep up with friends’ updates and tweets from news and sports people I followed. Now I find that, instead of constantly trying to stay updated, I’m able to put down my laptop or phone, and focus more on whatever I’m doing–be it speaking with my wife, watching TV, reading, or… just enjoying a moment in my life.

People will say, “You can control the amount of time you spend on social media,” or, “If you think you’re spending too much time on social media, just… stop.” For me, it wasn’t that easy. I think a lot of people don’t realize the amount of time they spend tweeting or on Facebook, and even less time thinking about the negative effects of being on social networks. I stumbled across this interesting YouTube video titled “The Innovation of Loneliness,” about the detrimental effects of social media. It’s only a few minutes, and worth watching, regardless of your feelings on the subject.

For the first several years I was on Facebook, it really was a nice way to keep in touch with old friends, organize gatherings, and share the occasional inside joke or reminiscence. But as those college friendships faded and I got married, it no longer served its purpose. I’d check my feed multiple times per day out of habit or boredom. I rarely posted anything, except for the odd quote or humorous anecdote. I stayed “friends” with girls I had been involved with for too long after the fact, and I didn’t feel right about it when my wife and I got serious. I’d only go on to check people’s statuses and occasionally check out their profiles. I began to feel like a creep.

Keeping in touch with old friends has been a challenge since I left Facebook, but not as difficult as you’d imagine. I mean, I still talked to people I knew outside of my area long before I was on a social media site. Instead of writing on walls or direct messaging friends, I actually pick up the phone and call them, or e-mail them. I started a fantasy football league with my college buddies as a way to keep in touch and give each other a hard time. Plus, the random text message about a funny high school or college incident is still funny between friends. I’ve had to make more of an effort to keep in touch, but I’ve found that the friendships I’ve made the effort to maintain are stronger and less superficial because it’s a more personal, direct interaction.

My second reason for leaving social media, was that it unnerved me to know that so many people knew what I was up to, whether or not I was updating my feeds. People I was “friends” with were posting pictures of me, tagging me in posts, and writing on my wall. Granted, the only people who could see my profile were “friends” on Facebook, and I had done a good job of weeding them out the last couple of years I was on the site, but I still didn’t like the idea of people creeping around my profile. Privacy was more of a concern after I got married and moved into a management position in my career. I simply didn’t want people seeing those picture of me partying in college or reading about a funny incident from my past that a “friend” wrote about on my Facebook wall. You may say that only people I chose could see my profile, but that couldn’t stop them from sharing that with others using their phones, e-mail, or showing it to them in person. I even changed my name on my Facebook profile once and was still getting friend requests from people who barely knew me.

I had been on social media in one form or another since the Fall of 2004, not long after Facebook was invented. I decided to leave it all behind.

What do I miss about social media? Surprisingly, nothing. Absolutely nothing. I thought that I would deactivate my Facebook account and miss it after a few weeks, but that never happened–not even for a brief, fleeting moment. What I felt was relief. I was relieved that the pressure of keeping up with my “friend’s” lives was over. I found added relief in the anonymity of not being connected.

What don’t I miss about social media? I don’t miss constantly feeling that someone was watching me and receiving regular updates on my life. I don’t miss seeing the humblebrags, complaints, and annoying updates from people I hardly knew anymore. I don’t miss seeing daily posts from people who seemed to get their self-worth from the attention they received online. I don’t miss the amount of time that I spent on Facebook, MySpace, and Twitter. Now, I find that I can focus more on the here-and-now, rather than on what other people are doing.

All of that being said, there are three social media sites I still use because they serve a specific function in my life.

Obviously, I use WordPress. I don’t blog very often, and rarely log in. Frankly, the only blog I regularly read is Where2Sir’s, which I receive e-mails about each time he has a new post. More or less, I use this site as an exercise in writing for enjoyment, which I haven’t done much of since just after college in a journal. I write most of my posts during my long breaks from work and the summer, when I have extra time on my hands. I still don’t spend much time at all on the site.

I’m still on Goodreads, probably my favorite social media website. I have exactly seven “friends,” only three of whom I’ve met in real life, and the other four of whom I follow because they have similar taste in books as I do. I rarely look at any of their profiles. In fact, the only real reason that I’m on the site is that I like to keep track of the books I’ve read and my progress toward annual reading goals. Occasionally, I’ll get a good recommendation for a book.

Finally, I’m on Untappd, a mobile app for beer drinkers, and not under my real name. I have five “friends,” four of whom I’ve met in real life and one of whom was an actor on Star Trek: The Next Generation. I like this one because it lets me keep track of the beer that I drink and share my ratings and reviews of it. It’s fun, and I only spend a few minutes on it each week.

No Facebook, no Instagram, no Twitter. I don’t miss them one bit. It’s not for everyone, but it’s for me, and I’m happier because I’m not on them.

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