30 Blog Posts In 30 Days... I have no faith whatsoever that I can pull this off...
So, draycevixen has challenged her f-list to post 30 blog entries in 30 days as a renewed commitment to the flagging social media platform that is the discussion blog. I've decided to pile on 'cause I tend to troop after her wherever she goes (yes, I'd probably throw myself over a cliff if she did - thanks for asking, smartypants!), and just as it happens, I actually had something to post about today anyway. Ahhh, synchronicity, you cavalier hussy!
Over the weekend, I was procrastinating surfing the web when I came across a ONTD posting about how Thomas Gibson got 'catfished' (I hate this term but the English language hasn't come up with a more succinct term to describe 'falling for someone via a digital platform in which one person has completely fabricated their identity', so I guess I'll have to use it. As a tangential thought, the documentary that this term came from is totally worth watching). Anyway, long story short Gibson had a two year relationship with a woman he met on Twitter but when he discovered that she wasn't who she said she was (or what she represented herself as being), he sicked his lawyers on her and she released some videos that he sent to her in revenge. My highly sensitive secondhand embarrassment reflex wouldn't allow me to watch the video, but it seems that it's pretty humiliating. This is why I fall for characters and not people...
This item got me to thinking about the nature of this phenomenon. In a culture that openly salivates over moral schadenfreude and which places the highest possible shame currency on sexual indiscretions, catfishing seems almost too tame to rate. I mean, the only way that catfishing works is if the lurer remains hidden and mysterious - which means no physical consummation. Sure, victims often trade suggestive pictures and videos with their puppet masters, but, aside from some Anthony Weiner-esque awkwardness, that's hardly physical contact.
Catfishing is about emotional infidelity (not all catfish victims are cheaters - some are just looking for love - but in Gibson's case, he was). In a time where sexually transmitted diseases are making a serious comeback, people have 'fuckbuddies', pornography is more prevalent and easily accessed than ever before, and you can't go a week without another celebrity sex scandal in the news - people are seeking out people to connect with emotionally - even if they are continents apart and even if they don't really know who they are. It's a generational weirdness, made more obvious by the internet, that I find fascinating. Humans have always felt isolated, no matter what time they live in, but in an age that claims to have connected more people than ever before in human history, why do we feel more alone?
I'm so glad you asked, because someone wrote a book on it and the answer seems pretty obvious once you think about it. Shimi Cohen converted the essence of the book's findings into a nifty, short animated video:
Now, at the risk of appearing supremely ironic by having this discussion online, what do you all think about our need to connect by isolating ourselves behind our computers/tablets/mobile phones etc.?
I love my blog, and yes, part of the love is that I can present myself anyway that I choose. I can project a level of coolness that I am simply incapable of in real life. I can appear smarter, funnier, and generally much more together than I am. However, I also feel that the fundamental nature of who I am can be represented in these gentle fictions as well. I also believe that anyone who's followed me here for any length of time could attest to a few 'truths' about me that would translate into my real world persona as well. I am not an open book, but I'm also not an Euclidean algorithm either.
I have met great people online - people that, for better or worse, I'll probably never meet in person. Is it naive to view these people as valuable as the friends and family that I physically see regularly? I have often wondered this. Does my preference for digital communication over, say, the phone or a dinner date make me more isolated, less connected to the human experience? Probably, but the jury's still out on exactly how much quality interaction I'm missing. I've always been an introvert - it's not likely that I'd have that many more friends if I still insisted on doing it the old fashioned way.
I guess what I was also wondering as I read up on Gibson's catfish affair was why do we seek our soul mates (romantic or otherwise) at such great physical distances from ourselves? It was only a generation or two ago when our choices were limited by our ability to travel. Most of us end up with people that we grew up around, or those that we met when we moved away from home. The statistical probability of a perfect mate living somewhere in the same timeline as you must take into account the WORLD'S population, but not many of us grow up in Idaho and end up with a North Korean as a spouse. The math says that we have to reach across the globe, but cultural and social practicalities says that we should hunt a little closer to home. Did Gibson reach out to a total stranger on the other side of the continent because there were no viable options close to him, or because distance preserved the fantasy of the existence of a perfect mate? (yeah, yeah... he probably did it because he's a douchebag, but that's not very intellectually stimulating, is it?)
Anyway, it's some stuff to chew on. Lemme know what you think, and consider taking up the challenge of 30 blog posts in 30 days ;)
Over the weekend, I was procrastinating surfing the web when I came across a ONTD posting about how Thomas Gibson got 'catfished' (I hate this term but the English language hasn't come up with a more succinct term to describe 'falling for someone via a digital platform in which one person has completely fabricated their identity', so I guess I'll have to use it. As a tangential thought, the documentary that this term came from is totally worth watching). Anyway, long story short Gibson had a two year relationship with a woman he met on Twitter but when he discovered that she wasn't who she said she was (or what she represented herself as being), he sicked his lawyers on her and she released some videos that he sent to her in revenge. My highly sensitive secondhand embarrassment reflex wouldn't allow me to watch the video, but it seems that it's pretty humiliating. This is why I fall for characters and not people...
This item got me to thinking about the nature of this phenomenon. In a culture that openly salivates over moral schadenfreude and which places the highest possible shame currency on sexual indiscretions, catfishing seems almost too tame to rate. I mean, the only way that catfishing works is if the lurer remains hidden and mysterious - which means no physical consummation. Sure, victims often trade suggestive pictures and videos with their puppet masters, but, aside from some Anthony Weiner-esque awkwardness, that's hardly physical contact.
Catfishing is about emotional infidelity (not all catfish victims are cheaters - some are just looking for love - but in Gibson's case, he was). In a time where sexually transmitted diseases are making a serious comeback, people have 'fuckbuddies', pornography is more prevalent and easily accessed than ever before, and you can't go a week without another celebrity sex scandal in the news - people are seeking out people to connect with emotionally - even if they are continents apart and even if they don't really know who they are. It's a generational weirdness, made more obvious by the internet, that I find fascinating. Humans have always felt isolated, no matter what time they live in, but in an age that claims to have connected more people than ever before in human history, why do we feel more alone?
I'm so glad you asked, because someone wrote a book on it and the answer seems pretty obvious once you think about it. Shimi Cohen converted the essence of the book's findings into a nifty, short animated video:
Click to viewNow, at the risk of appearing supremely ironic by having this discussion online, what do you all think about our need to connect by isolating ourselves behind our computers/tablets/mobile phones etc.?
I love my blog, and yes, part of the love is that I can present myself anyway that I choose. I can project a level of coolness that I am simply incapable of in real life. I can appear smarter, funnier, and generally much more together than I am. However, I also feel that the fundamental nature of who I am can be represented in these gentle fictions as well. I also believe that anyone who's followed me here for any length of time could attest to a few 'truths' about me that would translate into my real world persona as well. I am not an open book, but I'm also not an Euclidean algorithm either.
I have met great people online - people that, for better or worse, I'll probably never meet in person. Is it naive to view these people as valuable as the friends and family that I physically see regularly? I have often wondered this. Does my preference for digital communication over, say, the phone or a dinner date make me more isolated, less connected to the human experience? Probably, but the jury's still out on exactly how much quality interaction I'm missing. I've always been an introvert - it's not likely that I'd have that many more friends if I still insisted on doing it the old fashioned way.
I guess what I was also wondering as I read up on Gibson's catfish affair was why do we seek our soul mates (romantic or otherwise) at such great physical distances from ourselves? It was only a generation or two ago when our choices were limited by our ability to travel. Most of us end up with people that we grew up around, or those that we met when we moved away from home. The statistical probability of a perfect mate living somewhere in the same timeline as you must take into account the WORLD'S population, but not many of us grow up in Idaho and end up with a North Korean as a spouse. The math says that we have to reach across the globe, but cultural and social practicalities says that we should hunt a little closer to home. Did Gibson reach out to a total stranger on the other side of the continent because there were no viable options close to him, or because distance preserved the fantasy of the existence of a perfect mate? (yeah, yeah... he probably did it because he's a douchebag, but that's not very intellectually stimulating, is it?)
Anyway, it's some stuff to chew on. Lemme know what you think, and consider taking up the challenge of 30 blog posts in 30 days ;)