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Every now and then, history repeats itself.

One day, back in the summer, I was sitting at my computer minding my own business, and the next thing I knew, I was going to the Facebook social networking site to sign up for an account.

I had resisted for years, teetering between not really being interested to adamantly avoiding what “everyone else is doing.”

I didn’t need a Facebook account. I just was curious how the whole thing looked from the inside.

I poked around a bit and considered deleting my brand-new account but left everything as it was and went about my business. I almost felt embarrassed that I had given in after telling myself I wouldn’t sign up.

A day or so later, I noticed a couple of “friend requests” in my e-mail. Interesting, I thought. I hadn’t told anyone — beyond my immediate family — that I had signed up for Facebook.

After allowing their requests, I poked around a little here and there and left it again.

I then started noticing companies offering high-value coupon if you became a “fan” of theirs on Facebook. I went ahead and became a fan to feed my coupon addiction.

It seemed I needed this social network after all — if for nothing more than to gather coupons.

Determined not to be pulled into yet another Internet social networking site, I stated with conviction, “OK, fine, I accept the fact that I now have a Facebook account, but I will NEVER have need for Twitter.”

I stood by that resolve until a few weeks ago when my daughter, Hannah, came to me and began to explain how she had won concert tickets to a DVD recording of a favorite Christian artist, DecemberRadio.

Hannah had signed up for a Twitter account so she could take part in a trivia contest for tweeters.

I was still absorbing the fact that my daughter now had a Twitter account as I considered her request to drive with her to the concert a few days later in Knoxville, Tenn.

Unfortunately, her work commitments kept her from going, but her experience broke the last straw of my resistance to Twitter.

Oh, steadfast backbone of resolve, you let me down once more!
Both incidents remind me of the time almost 10 years ago when we first got a computer at home that could connect to the Internet.

As I sat there with my children, then 7 and 9, I pointed to the little people icon at the top of the AOL welcome page that would take you to their chat rooms. I told them that we were not going to click on that button.

I was adamant: “We are not going to go into chat rooms; we WILL NOT chat.”

It took only a month for curiosity to take over as I crossed that self-imposed boundary into my first chat room.

With my daughter, Hannah, by my side, I randomly picked out a chat room, instantly noticing that I had entered the chat room using my AOL main screen name — the one that had my last name attached to it.

Quickly, I popped out, thinking some danger would befall us by bedtime now that I had ventured into a chat room exposing my last name to everyone present. Paranoia went into overdrive.

As I began to regain a grasp on reality, the fact that AOL gives you seven screen names all made sense. If I wanted to chat, I could slap a few random words, letters or numbers together to make a silly name that I could use to explore.

In the future, history will probably repeat itself as I make new proclamations of how I am not going to venture into some newfangled social networking aspect of the Internet, followed by giving in to whatever it was that I proclaimed was off-limits.
Perhaps I just need to learn that time would be better spent resolving never to say never again.

Linda Vestal is a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend living in Gibsonville. Contact her with comments or story ideas at lindavestal@triad.rr.com.