Facebook. Like Crack but More Distracting

My name is Katie, and I’m a Facebook addict.  There, I said it.  I’m officially joining the ranks of every poorly educated, grammatically incoherent, steak-photo sharing tragic on the web.  Why am I so ashamed, you ask?  (Assuming my searing commentary on my fellow dependents hasn't tipped you off already.)

To answer that, I’ll need to give you a bit of back story.  I am a proud University of Melbourne Alumna.  I am a writer.  I quietly slot myself into the ranks of Melbourne’s literati.  (Ok, maybe not so quietly.)  The fact is, those of us in the habit of casting disdainful looks at the misuse of the word ‘you’re’ would never sink to the depths of the Facebook-addicted masses.  ‘I don’t even look at it!’ is one of many appropriate responses that can be offered when questioned by a fellow smarty-pants, ‘I’m thinking of deleting my account!’

But I do look at it.  All the time.  And this is how I know.  Earlier this year, my boyfriend and I packed up our worldly belongings, bought a van, and left Melbourne in our dust.  Eager to discover the joys of this big old country of ours, we said goodbye to friends and loved ones and headed up the coast.  ‘I won’t be needing this!’  I exclaimed to Tom seconds after pulling out the drive, and switched off my phone in a flourish. 

Twenty minutes later, Van Morisson singing on the stereo, I sat, watching the majestic Hume Highway pass me by.  I tried to imagine all the wonderful experiences that lay ahead of me.  I would... um... I would... I wander whether Tori’s put a photo of her new baby on Facebook yet?  Horrified, I scolded myself.  I didn't need to know about Tori’s baby!  I was travelling now!  I got exactly 10 more kilometres up the road before turning on my phone, loading the little blue app, and guiltily catching up on missed-status-updates. 

So, here’s my problem, folks.  I’m in Eden, a gorgeous nook of the world.  Our rented apartment overlooks the lapping waves of Two-fold bay.  We are within minutes of a breathtaking lookout, a mouth watering fish and chip shop.  And I can’t go half an hour without checking my bloody news feed.  How can I fully appreciate the joys of a bushwalk with Tom if I’m constantly plagued by the nagging urge to check if I missed anything?    

And worst of all, I don’t even know why I've been afflicted with this curse!  Nothing interesting ever even happens on Facebook!  I don’t care what Sarah from primary school had for breakfast.  I don’t need to know how many reps Steve I met at that bar ages ago can do at the gym.  

So what am I to do?  I've tried switching off, I have.  But before I can say ‘pathetic Facebook addicted loser’, my phone is back on, as if by it’s own accord.  Can anyone offer me some pearls of wisdom on how to kill this insidious beast?  I need help!  I have a holiday to enjoy!