Torontoist writer David Topping's
suggestion, after reading an article featuring a chart demonstrating that going on a trip to IKEA is worth a handjob at market prices, Toronto-area
eye weekly is losing track of the big picture and becoming the forum for a collection of people writing personal essays, rings true to me. Certainly I confirmed that opinion after I read Chander Levack's front page article in the latest
eye weekly,
"Why I Committed Facebook Suicide: killing yourself to live," wherein Levack describes how Facebook became just too much for her ("I had 1,223 friends on Facebook, status updates everyone “liked” and the sneaking suspicion I was losing my real self to my more perfect profile. This week, I said goodbye to all that").
Levack's article baffles me, frankly.
You see, on Facebook I have 1,223 friends (two recently deleted and five hidden), who are constantly inviting me to ’60s dance parties, Toronto public space meetings and indie-rock concerts in abandoned factories. People “like” me — at least they say they do. They instantly respond to my thoughts and feelings about the world: a link to a Nirvana B-side, a quip about Kensington Market veganism, ruminations on what I’ll eat for dinner (though it will mostly likely be frozen peas). On the internet, I’m popular.
Recently, though, I’ve noticed that logging on makes me break into a cold sweat, as if I could never measure up to the persona I’ve created. The nagging red notifications rack up as I post covert messages to be deconstructed, stymied by the responsibility of portraying myself the way I want to be seen. I want to be “liked,” and so I post Kids In The Hall sketches at three in the morning. But if you ignore me I will crumble, unsure of my place in the world wide web.
I spoke to a psychologist, who said that even Howard Stern suffers from social anxiety disorder, but my reliance on Facebook has nothing to do with how I function in the real world. It’s just that I prefer the website’s controlled amicability to the tenuous nature of real relationships. At my lowest points (the headache and signature eye burn that proves that you have Facebooked too hard and too long, frittering away time examining the photos of your third cousin’s boyfriend’s Birthright trip), I flirt with the idea of suicide. Not real suicide, which contrary to the M*A*S*H* theme song, is not painless, but the idea of permanently deleting my profile. Facebook suicide.
It gets better. Does she have any idea what she wants out of Facebook, I wonder?
This week’s Facebook drama — new “privacy” controls that will effectively make even private information public to corporations — draws criticism, yet the website will prevail. I have more faith in Facebook than any other institution in society, because unlike religion and the government, your friends will never let you down.
Clicking through profiles in a somnambulistic haze, I came to realize that I couldn’t see the point of interacting with people in real life anymore, because I already knew everything about them. Better yet, it was what they wanted me to know, mediated by friendly wall-to-wall contact. My Facebook profile was cooler than me anyway.
And the best part is her concluding paragraph.
I logged out of the site and looked at my blue-and-white burial ground, feeling resolved to spend more time communicating with my friends. Had I just killed myself to live? I’m not sure yet. Follow me on Twitter and I’ll let you know how it’s going.
No to Facebook, yes to Twitter? You can find her at @clevack, if you want. I don't, since I'm terribly afraid that any conversation with her would implode.
Where to begin?
Let's start with a personal census. Here on Livejournal I've 264 friends on Livejournal of which 245 are mutually reciprocated. This friends list overlaps substantially with my 262 Facebook friends. Both of these lists overlap nearly entirely with the list 49 contacts I've named on Flickr. My three YouTube contacts are all on Livejournal and Facebook. E-mail's a huge sprawling thing I won't tackle here. As for the wider blogosphere, while I've RSS feeds to three dozen blogs and interact to one degree or another with most of them, there's only a relatively weak overlap with my Facebook friends and I've no idea at how who's interacting with A Bit More Detail, never mind Demography Matters or another upcoming project I'll announce shortly. (Stay tuned!)
Levack seems to have taken Facebook way too seriously. I care about other people, and Internet-based communications and platforms make it relatively easy for me to do this. I can't claim to be an expert, but I've tended to use Livejournal and Facebook primarily as a way to create and sustain relationships with people here in Toronto, and secondarily to sustain existing relationships with people who aren't in my immediate territorially sphere. After that, I use it to remain in contact with people I like based on their web presence, because these people I've never met have interesting things to say, I like remaining abreast of what's going on in their lives, and the possibility always exists of making these virtual friendships real ones should geography permit. That last is what gave me my first anchors in Toronto. It's large, it's sprawling, it's complex, but by prioritizing and planning things I've managed to make it all work for me while avoiding timesinks. I'm not sure how Levack managed to let Facebook overwhelm her to the point that she was uninterested in actually interacting with other people, but I suspect that kind of overindulgence is more the fault of the user than the platform. Why else would she be more likely to trust Facebook over governments and business while shying away from the platform?
This brings me to my [FORUM] question of the day. How do you use social networking platforms on the Internet, new or old? Do you find it easy to use them, do you fear being controlled by them? Are there things you'd like to do more with them or things that you really need to cut back upon?
Discuss/