The Facebook Fixation
You do it. I do it. Your lab partner does it, and the kid at the locker next to you does it. It's a verb, it's a noun, it's practically a lifestyle. I cheat on my LiveJournal with "it," and "it" is purely for lustful, unintellectual and largely unthoughtful tasks, much like a secret lover you may feel guilty about but crave. It is addictive, sophisticated and completely conformist.
It, of course, if you hadn't caught on, is Facebook. The Almighty Book of Faces has become the Bible of nearly all of my peers, and that trickles down to the little fresh-faced ninth-grades, too. Have to tell someone something? Facebook her. Have to invite people to a party? Facebook them. Want to see what someone looks like? Facebook that mystery man. It has become the answer to photo-sharing, e-mailing, communication, IMing and even--gasp, and horror-of-horrors!--psuedo-blogging, through the site's "Notes."
Why the fixation? Why does this addiction have the ability to creep up on even unsuspecting, pure victims of this readily available substance, such as myself? I had sworn off from MySpace, from xanga, and only settled for the smarter, snarkier and mature LiveJournal (though, now I see that this might actually be Blogspot, oh well). But, yet, though I tried not to fall into the infamous clutches of Facebook, once The Book began to expand to the high school crowd, it was difficult to resist.
First, I set time-oriented goals. "I won't register until I get into college, hopefully in November!" Then I didn't apply Early Decision I anywhere, and I figured I was punishing myself for not getting applying ED. And around this same time, more and more of my friends began to rely upon Facebook for all of their common communication needs. "Oh, you didn't hear? That's right... you don't have a Facebook." Or: "Did you see those amazing pictures from last night? Oh, no, I bet you couldn't see them... you need a Facebook."
Yes, friends, that's the manipulative nature of this seemingly-innocent trap, this drug of social networking. You must be a registered user to even see others' photos or profiles. "How wise!" some remark, impressed at the site's security-laden ways. But, no. That's just a deceptive front they put up. Don't fall prey to their schemes! Don't be fooled by their protective appearance! They want you to register, and become sucked in like the rest of the teenage-and-early-twenties population of America. Wait, hold that thought--the WORLD! I've seen Facebookers from England, Ireland, Israel, Spain... this is a global domination. Do you people hear me? These people running Facebook have conquered our planet.
MySpace officials scratch their (greasy?) chins wondering how such young chumps could come up with a forumla even more successful than their own. It's not rocket science, Space Men. Facebook created an empire based on exclusivity, on the only truly effective exclusivity when dealing with teenagers: age. Everyone's so age-conscious ("Omigod, Freshman Becky is hooking up with Senior Biffo! HO-lee-shit!") at this age, that by only allowing college students (also known as: The Symbol of Cool for high school students, who long for the pot-smokin', binge-drinkin', curfew-lackin' ways of The College Students Who Can Use Facebook). Myself included. I mean, how cool, clever and witty were (are?) some of those Facebook groups when it was only The College Students who were allowed on? "I Tried to Cross the River But My Oxen Fuckin' Died"? Pure genius. And I say that without a hint of sarcasm (I promise!).
We high school students, we lowly excuses for "cool and hip," still under our parents' rooves, tried to hack into the sacred realm of Facebook. We (and by "we," I mean "I") were given our older friends' college email addressses and respective passwords, and we'd log in once to get a tiny morsel of this oh-so-sophisticated, mature, elite and above-all cool foundation of College Social Life, a highly sought-after notion in itself.
Everyone had heard about Facebook by the time they reached college and were awarded that acclaimed college email address, the Golden Ticket into the super-cool Facebook system. Stories were passed on from older friends to younger, still high-school-bound confidentes: "I was on the most awesome Facebook group last night!" "I saw my entire floor's faces on Facebook last night!"
So when Facebook opened its doors to the under-undergrad population, it's not surprise that (a) the high-schoolers were exuberant and (b) the college students were seething. I would have been too, hence my (noble) goal of Waiting Until College (they should have made True Love--Oops, Facebook!--Waits rings or something). But this goal, as I've explained above, was broken, demolished and annihilated into mere smithereens, a faint and distant memory of a more self-disciplined self.
I've been thinking about its appeals, and why I have, in states of sleep deprivation or boredom, often betrayed my LiveJournal and instead typed those dangerous eleven letters into my browser: f a c e b o o k . c o m. A recipe for disaster, especially in time-managment. And I'll go back to the point I began this paragraph with: aside from its elite past, why the fascination?
It's a pretty proven fact that, generally, we are self-obsessed. Take this scenario: you get a stack of photos of people at a party. You flip through them, skimming them. You find one of a group of your friends and, WHOA, you! You get excited--THERE'S ME! MEMEMEMEMEME! And you stop and pause, you look, you critically examine, you are directed towards yourself, you look some more, you take a few seconds longer with that picture. The same is true for almost everyone, hence Facebook's appeal. For one thing, everyone gets to see your face, and, more than that, every time you are in a picture, you are "tagged"--you get notified of pictures with you in them. An excellent strategy, Facebook, because we are addicted to ourselves.
The Wall concept only adds to the appeal of Facebook. The Wall is a little bulletein board for people to comment to you--"Yo, bud, what's the Biology homework?" or, more frequently: "Hey, girl! What's up? You're (probably spelled, much to my flinchings: YOUR) sooo hot! <3 ya, stay sexy, rock on, cutie." Nothing's is wrong with positive compliments--in fact, they are a great aspect of life--but I'm just saying this is what fuels the Facebook obsession. We log on to see, earnestly and hurridly, DID ANYONE SAY ANYTHING NEW AND/OR GOOD ABOUT ME/TO ME?! It is like a drug, not necessarily a bad one, but it's sure addictive.
I probably should finish up this entry now, it's getting late... probably 'cause I've plugged all too many hours into Facebook today.
It, of course, if you hadn't caught on, is Facebook. The Almighty Book of Faces has become the Bible of nearly all of my peers, and that trickles down to the little fresh-faced ninth-grades, too. Have to tell someone something? Facebook her. Have to invite people to a party? Facebook them. Want to see what someone looks like? Facebook that mystery man. It has become the answer to photo-sharing, e-mailing, communication, IMing and even--gasp, and horror-of-horrors!--psuedo-blogging, through the site's "Notes."
Why the fixation? Why does this addiction have the ability to creep up on even unsuspecting, pure victims of this readily available substance, such as myself? I had sworn off from MySpace, from xanga, and only settled for the smarter, snarkier and mature LiveJournal (though, now I see that this might actually be Blogspot, oh well). But, yet, though I tried not to fall into the infamous clutches of Facebook, once The Book began to expand to the high school crowd, it was difficult to resist.
First, I set time-oriented goals. "I won't register until I get into college, hopefully in November!" Then I didn't apply Early Decision I anywhere, and I figured I was punishing myself for not getting applying ED. And around this same time, more and more of my friends began to rely upon Facebook for all of their common communication needs. "Oh, you didn't hear? That's right... you don't have a Facebook." Or: "Did you see those amazing pictures from last night? Oh, no, I bet you couldn't see them... you need a Facebook."
Yes, friends, that's the manipulative nature of this seemingly-innocent trap, this drug of social networking. You must be a registered user to even see others' photos or profiles. "How wise!" some remark, impressed at the site's security-laden ways. But, no. That's just a deceptive front they put up. Don't fall prey to their schemes! Don't be fooled by their protective appearance! They want you to register, and become sucked in like the rest of the teenage-and-early-twenties population of America. Wait, hold that thought--the WORLD! I've seen Facebookers from England, Ireland, Israel, Spain... this is a global domination. Do you people hear me? These people running Facebook have conquered our planet.
MySpace officials scratch their (greasy?) chins wondering how such young chumps could come up with a forumla even more successful than their own. It's not rocket science, Space Men. Facebook created an empire based on exclusivity, on the only truly effective exclusivity when dealing with teenagers: age. Everyone's so age-conscious ("Omigod, Freshman Becky is hooking up with Senior Biffo! HO-lee-shit!") at this age, that by only allowing college students (also known as: The Symbol of Cool for high school students, who long for the pot-smokin', binge-drinkin', curfew-lackin' ways of The College Students Who Can Use Facebook). Myself included. I mean, how cool, clever and witty were (are?) some of those Facebook groups when it was only The College Students who were allowed on? "I Tried to Cross the River But My Oxen Fuckin' Died"? Pure genius. And I say that without a hint of sarcasm (I promise!).
We high school students, we lowly excuses for "cool and hip," still under our parents' rooves, tried to hack into the sacred realm of Facebook. We (and by "we," I mean "I") were given our older friends' college email addressses and respective passwords, and we'd log in once to get a tiny morsel of this oh-so-sophisticated, mature, elite and above-all cool foundation of College Social Life, a highly sought-after notion in itself.
Everyone had heard about Facebook by the time they reached college and were awarded that acclaimed college email address, the Golden Ticket into the super-cool Facebook system. Stories were passed on from older friends to younger, still high-school-bound confidentes: "I was on the most awesome Facebook group last night!" "I saw my entire floor's faces on Facebook last night!"
So when Facebook opened its doors to the under-undergrad population, it's not surprise that (a) the high-schoolers were exuberant and (b) the college students were seething. I would have been too, hence my (noble) goal of Waiting Until College (they should have made True Love--Oops, Facebook!--Waits rings or something). But this goal, as I've explained above, was broken, demolished and annihilated into mere smithereens, a faint and distant memory of a more self-disciplined self.
I've been thinking about its appeals, and why I have, in states of sleep deprivation or boredom, often betrayed my LiveJournal and instead typed those dangerous eleven letters into my browser: f a c e b o o k . c o m. A recipe for disaster, especially in time-managment. And I'll go back to the point I began this paragraph with: aside from its elite past, why the fascination?
It's a pretty proven fact that, generally, we are self-obsessed. Take this scenario: you get a stack of photos of people at a party. You flip through them, skimming them. You find one of a group of your friends and, WHOA, you! You get excited--THERE'S ME! MEMEMEMEMEME! And you stop and pause, you look, you critically examine, you are directed towards yourself, you look some more, you take a few seconds longer with that picture. The same is true for almost everyone, hence Facebook's appeal. For one thing, everyone gets to see your face, and, more than that, every time you are in a picture, you are "tagged"--you get notified of pictures with you in them. An excellent strategy, Facebook, because we are addicted to ourselves.
The Wall concept only adds to the appeal of Facebook. The Wall is a little bulletein board for people to comment to you--"Yo, bud, what's the Biology homework?" or, more frequently: "Hey, girl! What's up? You're (probably spelled, much to my flinchings: YOUR) sooo hot! <3 ya, stay sexy, rock on, cutie." Nothing's is wrong with positive compliments--in fact, they are a great aspect of life--but I'm just saying this is what fuels the Facebook obsession. We log on to see, earnestly and hurridly, DID ANYONE SAY ANYTHING NEW AND/OR GOOD ABOUT ME/TO ME?! It is like a drug, not necessarily a bad one, but it's sure addictive.
I probably should finish up this entry now, it's getting late... probably 'cause I've plugged all too many hours into Facebook today.