Are You More Than The Sum of Your Parts?

In a previous post I mentioned that I am not on Facebook.  I also mentioned that I try to avoid discussing why I'm not on Facebook, because it makes me sound like a disgruntled sober alcoholic.  


Today one of my good friends sent me a very insightful article entitled "Generation Why" by Zadie Smith.  It's lengthy, so here are some highlights for those of you are dying to get back to Facebook:


-We know the consequences of this instinctively; we feel them. We know that having two thousand Facebook friends is not what it looks like. We know that we are using the software to behave in a certain, superficial way toward others. We know what we are doing “in” the software. But do we know, are we alert to, what the software is doing to us? Is it possible that what is communicated between people online “eventually becomes their truth”? 


-Different software embeds different philosophies, and these philosophies, as they become ubiquitous, become invisible.

-When a human being becomes a set of data on a website like Facebook, he or she is reduced. Everything shrinks. Individual character. Friendships. Language. Sensibility. In a way it’s a transcendent experience: we lose our bodies, our messy feelings, our desires, our fears. It reminds me that those of us who turn in disgust from what we consider an overinflated liberal-bourgeois sense of self should be careful what we wish for: our denuded networked selves don’t look more free, they just look more owned.

-Step back from your Facebook Wall for a moment: Doesn’t it, suddenly, look a little ridiculous? Your life in this format?

-The last defense of every Facebook addict is: but it helps me keep in contact with people who are far away! Well, e-mail and Skype do that, too, and they have the added advantage of not forcing you to interface with the mind of Mark Zuckerberg—but, well, you know. We all know. If we really wanted to write to these faraway people, or see them, we would. What we actually want to do is the bare minimum, just like any nineteen-year-old college boy who’d rather be doing something else, or nothing.

-In this sense, The Social Network is not a cruel portrait of any particular real-world person called “Mark Zuckerberg.” It’s a cruel portrait of us: 500 million sentient people entrapped in the recent careless thoughts of a Harvard sophomore.

  

The Social Network

I am not on Facebook.  I get tired of explaining why I'm not on facebook, because it usually turns into an overly intense lecture on why it's not good for me.  It's sort of like an alcoholic explaining why they can't have a glass of wine.  No one really wants to hear it.

I was hanging out with Austin about six months ago and one of his buddies (who I had just met) asked if I was on Facebook.  I told him no and hoped we could leave it at that. My "no" was immediately followed by a very concerned "why not?" 

Austin knows I get tired of explaining why I'm not into it (or why I'm very into it and shouldn't use).  So he shook his head, pointedly looked at me and said, "you don't have to talk about it."  

As soon as these melodramatic words escaped his lips we looked at each other and had a mind melt.  A very good prank was in the making.  

Austin's friend looked confused.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit a nerve."  

Me:  It's okay.  It's just . . . hard to talk about it.  And it comes up a lot.

Austin: You don't have to do this.  

Me:  I know but, now I feel like I'm intentionally being mysterious.  

Austin's friend:  Okay, now I'm really curious.  What's the deal?

Austin: Don't feel pressure, but he's cool.  He won't make a big thing out of it.  

Austin's friend: What? What is it?

Me:  Mark Zuckerberg is my ex-boyfriend.  

Austin tried very hard not to laugh as I slowly but surely convinced his friend that I attended Harvard, majored in English, and had a tumultuous relationship with the founder of Facebook.  I also convinced him that Facebook was "practically my idea" because Mark had zero friends and I had tons tons of friends with whom I wanted to share photos and comments.  With faked bitterness, I explained to my gullible new pal that one night in Mark's dorm room I asked if there was any way to do this over the Internet and the next day Facebook was launched.  

I even convinced him that I provided the inspiration for the term "it's complicated."  

Me:  During sophomore year we were on what I guess you would call "a break" but we were still seeing each with some regularity.  One night Mark joined me and some friends at a bar and someone asked us if we were still dating.  Unsure of what to say, I looked at Mark who gave me zero help, so I finally responded with, "it's complicated."  Apparently this angered Mark, who was still holding a torch, and he never let me hear the end of it.  He would constantly mock me in high pitched tones, "it's complicated! It's complicated!"  

Austin's friend:  What a psycho. 

Me:  Tell me about it.  

Austin's friend:  So is that why you are not on Facebook? Because you don't want to give him the satisfaction?

Me:  I wish.  No, I literally can't get on Facebook.  Facebook won't let me create an account.  I don't know how he does it but I'm blocked.  

Austin's friend: What a jerk.  

Me:  I know.  

We kept up this ruse for a few months, but decided that since "my relationship with Mark" would probably be left out of the The Social Network that we would have to come clean.  We toyed with the idea of going to see the movie with our trusting friend under the pretense that the studio informed me that "my relationship with Mark" would be portrayed.  When this didn't happen I was going to storm out of the theatre. Eventually we decided this would involve waaay too much time and effort for something that would yield only mildly entertaining results.


Kinda like Facebook.