The Digital Imprint of Our Lives
Bwaaah, I seem to be in a mood. Maybe it's because it's drizzling outside and cold on what is supposed to be the weekend that kicks off summer. But at least I end the post with a unicorn chaser (because it needs it--shut up).
If you're on social media, and chances are you are these days--LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter, Tumbler, etc., you may have seen messages of the following nature:
LinkedIn: Congratulate Coworker LostContact on his work anniversary: 7 years at BigCo.
Twitter: Follow Vaguely Acquainted, also followed by Friend1 and Friend2.
Facebook: Do you know FriendOf AFriend? Also friends with 12 of your friends.
So what, you say? Unsubscribe, filter emails to folder, mark as spam, mute notifications on phone, delete, move on. No harm done.
Well... Consider this unusual situation. Tragedy strikes, and a friend is gone forever. Not a really close one, just close enough to hurt. Except his digital life remains behind, like--shudder--like a zombie. So now, every so often (and again yesterday), I get a reminder to "follow" him on Twitter, to "congratulate" him on LinkedIn, to "friend" him on Facebook. Every step where our digital identities overlap, I'm reminded, way more often than I'm comfortable with, that he's forever, irreversibly gone, and the machines don't know this, and may never figure it out. Something that, I realize now, his family may not be aware of either, and I'm not sure I want to bother them with. I just don't see how it could possibly be a pleasant task for the family.
This particular person was in his mid-twenties(!), with a medical condition I'd been utterly unaware of, and the death itself had been sudden and perhaps most tragic of all, potentially avoidable (well, I try not to go there, because going there means playing the what-if? game which has no winners). So maybe it does still bother me a little, his ghost not quite laid to rest in some corner of my mind that constantly chews the cud (the scientific term for cows's digestive process is apparently rumination--how fitting!), and I'm not thrilled to be reminded of my step short of acceptance (I'm guessing that's what you'd call it?), by social media companies that have no idea that I'm never going to make that suggested connection in their social graph, because, well, there's no there there. Not anymore.
Still, four years later, I could, if I wanted to, go on Twitter and check out his public stream from way back then, which I think I had done once just after his death. That time, the banality of his posts had totally got to me, because it'd seemed so pointless, in the grand scheme of things, other than being a reflection of his interests. Then again, they represent a digital imprint of his life, still stirring the water surface, long after a pebble had been cast. (OK, I'm getting melodramatic. See step short of acceptance, above.)
(Kinda makes you think, though, doesn't it? Personally, I wouldn't post anything online that would cause embarrassment as my publicly archived last words. Which maybe should include my fanfic. Hmm. But definitely no lame jokes or anything. Unless said jokes are in LolSpeak or illustrated with cute kittehs. Because who wouldn't like cute kittehs??? I'm sure archaeologists of the future will appreciate my thoughtful preservation of adorific pet GIFs, the definitive pinnacle of our culture. You're welcome, future archaeologists! Especially if you're married to the Doctor. Well, hopefully not all of you, haha. See lame joke, above.)
Speaking of adorific pet GIFs, here's your bucket of kittehs, and a self-soothing puppy. Your unicorn chaser for enduring a serious post (except my unicorns look like kittehs and puppies, because cuter!).
Hope everyone's doing well?
If you're on social media, and chances are you are these days--LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter, Tumbler, etc., you may have seen messages of the following nature:
LinkedIn: Congratulate Coworker LostContact on his work anniversary: 7 years at BigCo.
Twitter: Follow Vaguely Acquainted, also followed by Friend1 and Friend2.
Facebook: Do you know FriendOf AFriend? Also friends with 12 of your friends.
So what, you say? Unsubscribe, filter emails to folder, mark as spam, mute notifications on phone, delete, move on. No harm done.
Well... Consider this unusual situation. Tragedy strikes, and a friend is gone forever. Not a really close one, just close enough to hurt. Except his digital life remains behind, like--shudder--like a zombie. So now, every so often (and again yesterday), I get a reminder to "follow" him on Twitter, to "congratulate" him on LinkedIn, to "friend" him on Facebook. Every step where our digital identities overlap, I'm reminded, way more often than I'm comfortable with, that he's forever, irreversibly gone, and the machines don't know this, and may never figure it out. Something that, I realize now, his family may not be aware of either, and I'm not sure I want to bother them with. I just don't see how it could possibly be a pleasant task for the family.
This particular person was in his mid-twenties(!), with a medical condition I'd been utterly unaware of, and the death itself had been sudden and perhaps most tragic of all, potentially avoidable (well, I try not to go there, because going there means playing the what-if? game which has no winners). So maybe it does still bother me a little, his ghost not quite laid to rest in some corner of my mind that constantly chews the cud (the scientific term for cows's digestive process is apparently rumination--how fitting!), and I'm not thrilled to be reminded of my step short of acceptance (I'm guessing that's what you'd call it?), by social media companies that have no idea that I'm never going to make that suggested connection in their social graph, because, well, there's no there there. Not anymore.
Still, four years later, I could, if I wanted to, go on Twitter and check out his public stream from way back then, which I think I had done once just after his death. That time, the banality of his posts had totally got to me, because it'd seemed so pointless, in the grand scheme of things, other than being a reflection of his interests. Then again, they represent a digital imprint of his life, still stirring the water surface, long after a pebble had been cast. (OK, I'm getting melodramatic. See step short of acceptance, above.)
(Kinda makes you think, though, doesn't it? Personally, I wouldn't post anything online that would cause embarrassment as my publicly archived last words. Which maybe should include my fanfic. Hmm. But definitely no lame jokes or anything. Unless said jokes are in LolSpeak or illustrated with cute kittehs. Because who wouldn't like cute kittehs??? I'm sure archaeologists of the future will appreciate my thoughtful preservation of adorific pet GIFs, the definitive pinnacle of our culture. You're welcome, future archaeologists! Especially if you're married to the Doctor. Well, hopefully not all of you, haha. See lame joke, above.)
Speaking of adorific pet GIFs, here's your bucket of kittehs, and a self-soothing puppy. Your unicorn chaser for enduring a serious post (except my unicorns look like kittehs and puppies, because cuter!).
Hope everyone's doing well?