I admit I came late to the party (something I rarely do, incidentally) but what a party it is chock full of interesting people who populate my life: scores of celebrities, nearly forgotten high school buddies, like-minded professional acquaintances, clubbing conquests and other assorted humans who exist mainly as words and photos and videos online. If you really think about it, the entire new Web thing—Facebook, MySpace, LinkedIn, Twitter—is unbelievably strange. All of it. But those online communities—those "friends"—have become as necessary as oxygen for many, many millions of people. Me included.

After the 247th person I knew asked me if I was on Facebook, the insanely popular social media website, I decided to put my toe in the water and join. Having determined to avoid all such sites after I left a high-profile job in New York City a couple of years ago to pursue a quieter existence in Los Angeles (I know L.A. isn't Nebraska, but I still didn't want to be so accessible), I changed my mind and signed up for several of the aforementioned sites. What's the use of inching into the pool if you're going to get soaked anyway?

Apparently joining Facebook right after the site changed its layout, design and functionalities (there's still a huge debate raging there about bringing back the "old Facebook"), I methodically went through all of the steps and happily immersed myself into building my Facebook experience. It has become nothing short of intoxicating. Keeping up with so many, many incredible people from my past and present, Facebook is a daily reminder of how blessed I am to continuously surround myself with the very best people anywhere. But what's been the most curious result from logging so many hours online hanging out with old friends on Facebook has been my reaction to a particular aspect of this online-specific exercise. Sure Facebook, like most of the other social media portals, have similar capabilities: the ability to upload and share photos, music and videos, instant social interaction via chats, send private messages, the power to invite whomever you want to join you for whatever you want and so on. But the genuinely strange draw for me is the ubiquitous and perpetually streaming updates about what my friends on Facebook are actually doing and/or pondering that very second.

On Facebook at least they encourage this blatant over-sharing by leaving the prime spot of real estate atop your profile page to write "Richard is..." and you're supposed to write something to the effect of "...is excited to see his sister at the airport" or "...is wondering why Humpty Dumpty actually sat on a wall" and the like. As ridiculous as it may sound, it's as fascinating as it is innocuous and I can't make this delicious torture stop.

Of course Twitter is essentially a service that does little else than that—provide a brief and immediate update to your universe of friends telling them instantly where you are, who you're with, what you're doing and what you're thinking. But I can't help but wonder if all of this is simply too much information? Where's this unprecedented level of TMI going to lead? Are we ever going to have a thought, a fleeting clever entendre, that we won't feel compelled to share with our newfound universe of fellow social media devotees? I hope all of us—and I very much include myself in this category—find the balance, moderation and, yes, novelty of instant social interaction and treat it as an amusing, harmless addition to our overall social landscape. We still do need to get out and live our lives in real time, no?

As I ponder these important questions, I suddenly realize that I actually do want to know why Humpty Dumpty really sat on a wall. I bet one of my smart friends on Facebook will come up with a satisfying, unexpected answer. Damn.

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