It is now a matter of sovereign indifference what most of my erstwhile FB friends are doing. When I created my account just over 3 years ago, it was a different story. I created my account because I felt isolated, plus, in all good conscience: I'm a nosey bitch. I like accruing information for future reference. I don't lay claim to being a FB Sidney Reilly or anything, I'm just a freelance character assassin, semi-retired of course, I now see how unhealthy it was. Besides, Mark Zuckerberg has far more sensitive information about you and intends to put it to far worse uses, than I.
Which brings me to my main point. I feel so much better now I've disentangled myself from that rather unpleasant outgrowth of the web. I've never made any secret of the fact I have Bipolar disorder. During my periods of intense depression I found myself drawing endless comparisons with my FB friends. Namely the smarter, fitter, more beautiful, better travelled, generally more popular folk. Honestly, it grated on me. it was the fuel my melancholy needed to sustain its weary existence.
One of the most perplexing things for me was the photos. Not just of special occasions, but those people who posted a drunken, gurning record of every night out they'd ever had since joining FB. As I don't have a form of short-term memory loss, I feel it unnecessary to keep a regular photographic log of every activity I engage in or indeed, post a written missive to my waiting faithful, just in case they miss a nugget of solid gold wisdom or forget my existence for more than 5 seconds.
I think Facebook actually began to suck the joy from my existence. The push to quit came from the fact I was suffering from extreme ennui. The realisation that I had failed to give anything my undivided attention for three years and as a consequence, fully engage with many activities in the real world was because of a certain anxiety attached to Facebook. I must, post this, others must know of this occurrence, then will I know validation, when others approve of me, then will I know my existence is worthwhile.
Which begs the question why are you blogging about this? Why do you need validation from another source? The truth is we are all social animals and require some form of acknowledgement/validation. This is normal, I appreciate feedback and interaction. My problem is with what Facebook as a format turns people, myself included into: Egomaniacal, deluded narcissists with sociopathic tendencies. Now I'm not saying it happens to everyone, some saintly phlegmatic souls are I dare say, immune. Just most people. I admit I've Googled FACEBOOK IS SHIT and the like. On one blog a man made a brilliant point regarding sociopathy. He delineated how a lot of Talented Mr.Rippley types, actually create a fabricated persona which is the TOTAL OPPOSITE of their real personality. E.g. they have 800 friends, are always posting status updates which are candid to the point of indecency, constantly posting albums full of pictures of their alcohol soaked nights out. this person, must be an open, confident, popular, social butterfly right? WRONG! What you're actually looking at is a deeply insecure, attention seeking, exhibitionist with a possible embryonic drink problem. Hiding, behind the mask they have so elaborately painted. They have 800 friends 'cause they're an absolute whore who both adds and accepts adds, from the world and his dog. They need mementos of nights out to reassure themselves they A: actually happened and B: They didn't disgrace themselves too badly because they were so intoxicated they cannot recall the details of what happened. This is the case with regard to most social events. Now, I'm no plaster saint. I do drink and have been drunk. I did, on occasion upload the odd snap to Facebook. I just grew up and snapped out of it! Sorry to have to say it but FB is a giant virtual playground. It turns intelligent adults into insecure, competitive, children. You may notice I omitted a word from my former statement: MATURE!
Mature people are those who posses certain truths and act on them. 1. An experience good or bad is significant because of its significance. 2. Other people knowing of these events doesn't mean they care or are well disposed towards you. They are generally leering pervs or jealous bitches. 3. Making a photographic record of every thing you've ever done, is a symptom of insecurity. You're not taking these photos because you're so happy, immersed in the moment, you're taking them because of what they represent: social currency. See I'm popular, I have a girlfriend, new house/dog/car ect...
On the plus side, I'm a born empiricist, I had to experience this firsthand. I didn't use Facebook for 3 years because everything about it was terrible. I just outgrew it. I realised that for me the cons outweighed the pros.Virtual social networking was, a novel experiment. Unfortunately I suffered unpleasant side effects. Fortunately, they wore off when I opted out.
As a devout individualist, I realise my motivations were a mortal sin against the code of individualism. I am a little older and wiser now, but 3 years ago I was in a very different place. I now understand the vital importance of living one's own life on one's own terms. One derives pleasure from an experience because it is pleasurable, not because others approve of that pleasure. An experience remains imprinted on one's consciousness for good or ill because it has significance, for me photographs aren't a necessity when it comes to evoking emotions. That's not to say I don't enjoy looking at them, just that I see them as art. Taking a bad or ugly photo has parallels with writing a sonnet about a reeking turd. The first time it's funny, after a while the joke wears thin.
ReplyDelete