Back when MySpace was still a thing, I resisted my friends’ many attempts to get me an account. And after MySpace died out and Facebook came about, for years, I combatted the notion of hosting virtual “events” and having hundreds of “friends” who I never spoke to in real life. (I mean, isn’t it hard enough to fight off our innate antisocial tendencies – admit it, there are days when you just want to pull the comforter over your head and not see/hear/smell another soul – at school or at work? Now people expect us to fill our free time with unimportant cyber world exchanges and the minute details of their lives? No thank you.)
In ninth grade, my opposition to Facebook was so strong that for my required persuasive speech in English class, I talked – very passionately, might I add – about why people should stay off Facebook. I think I said something about degrading the value of human interaction. I ranted about rants on Facebook and about how people should face their problems, not Facebook them. People like to remind me of this passionate speech every time I post something.
Yes. I have a Facebook. I caved a few months ago, in the aftermath of the college application process. I’m not exactly sure why. Probably because it seems to be the only way I have any chance of keeping in touch with anyone from high school and any chance of getting in touch with anyone in the future.
And I say I hate it. I complain that it’s like living under a microscope – everyone can see your posts, your pictures, your comments. I claim it’s an extreme invasion of privacy. But admittedly, I love it every time someone likes a profile picture change or a link I’ve shared. I think I like the external validation of my existence – doesn’t everyone?