By CHRISTOPHER SURPRENANT
Managing Editor
Thanks to Facebook, now, more than ever, it’s a social faux-pas to forget someone’s birthday. Facebook’s own special day was not forgotten by the public at large, celebrating its 10th anniversary last Tuesday as the world’s go-to social network. While it’s certainly an accomplishment for the little startup that could, it does not change the fact that the site remains one of the most controversial and constantly talked about tools of the 21st century.
That statement may sound grandiose, but I think it’s only fitting for a site that boasted 1.11 billion active users all over the world in 2013. Even with such an impressive figure, there are still those who are predicting Facebook’s imminent fall—the ultimate unfriending—where users simply lose interest and leave. Time Magazine recently reported on a Princeton study that predicted Facebook users would lose 80 percent of its users between 2015 and 2017. Whatever the case may be, the social-networking tool has sparked a conversation about the very nature of social interactions.
Such a conversation is one that I’ve had over the past four years or so—mostly with myself because I abandoned the network after three years in 2011. In a previous piece on Facebook, I demonized the site for its privacy practices, its tendency to make users narcissistic, and its way of taking the social aspect out of socializing. Do I still stand by those arguments? You betcha. The one catch, however, is that I returned to the Blue-Eyed Monster after a two-year cleanse.
I’ll make the stipulation that it was strongly suggested that I have a social media presence so that I could, you know, “network” (whatever that means anymore) with the rest of the world, should I make any professional connections. It’s apparently easier and more convenient. Regardless of my personal feelings, I internalized the argument, and WHOOMP here I am. So, why come back?
Facebook, whether I like it or not, is the communication fad of the day. Like letters, the telephone (in its natural state), and email, it’s a way of interacting with other people. It’s an address book, a photo album, a bulletin board, and a mailbox. People, regardless of the time period, enjoy convenience. Facebook has successfully aggregated communication into a clean, neat package. Thinking of it as another part of the history of communication somehow makes it easier for me to log on and deal with it. It’s a part of modern life, and as intimidating or questionable as it might be, it’s not going anywhere immediately.
While the communication part has settled in my brain, the “social” aspect of the Big F is still problematic. The witty back-and-forths and even the “Brushing my teeth” updates don’t bother me. I’ll usually laugh and join right in. However, there are two particular types of people who peeve me off to no end: the fisherman and the laundrymen.
The fishermen (and fisherwomen) are those who beg for comments, but not directly. They either post vague statuses, both happy and sad, or accompany said status with a selfie. These people live for the applause, to quote another conundrum of the 21st century. They want attention, but they don’t want YOU to know they want attention.
The laundrymen (and laundrywomen) and those who must show the world just how dirty their laundry is, pit-stains and all. They are the complainers. The ones who are always perpetually angry and want everyone to know. Breakups? On Facebook. Skipped in line? On Facebook. Lost a sock? On Facebook. They want their problems to be known to everyone because, somehow, spreading that negativity will make issue better.
Oversharing, in any capacity, is really the only long-standing beef I still have with Mark Zuckerberg and his cronies, and it’s only partially their fault. With the click of a button I can remove the downers from my digital world. I like Facebook. I’ve never not liked the idea of it. It has its problems, no doubt, but so does every other form of communication. Letters can be lost in the mail. Phone conversations aren’t saved (unless you’re the NSA). Email is impersonal. While Facebook isn’t the image of perfection after ten years, I’m okay still being acquainted with it. However, unlike a friend, it’ll never get a birthday card from me.
