He said:
I received a peculiar gift over the holidays that implied I’m both a drunk and an amnesiac, and it wasn’t a calendar marked with upcoming visits to Alcoholics Anonymous.
A stack of 12 “beer bands” — essentially Live Strong bracelets — offer easy identification of drinks by sliding them around the bottle, assuming many similar beverages are nearby. Not only do they vary in color, but they also display suggestive labels. At a party you could avoid unwanted flirtation by slipping on the aqua “tease,” or invite the desperate masses with the pink “slut.” The dude sipping O’doul’s can rock the green “wimp.”
Even though they’re meant as jokes, some people wouldn’t argue the claims. Lasting trends occasionally arise such as vanity license plates or AIM screen names, which compel people to insert generalized self-portraits. Lately it’s snuck into the most popular social networking Web sites to which many of us are shackled. They aren’t really outright declarations, but the content is telling.
You encounter it immediately after logging onto Facebook.
I’m not anti-status, there are plenty of insightful thoughts or humorous links on my homepage, and I appreciate being stimulated in such ways. I shake my head, though, when posts are simply inane or carry irritating themes that breed tags (excessive complaints about a schedule for a certain curriculum: depressed; play-by-play of cuddle time with a significant other: codependent).
Yet considering how much we’re willing to say online, it’s striking how reserved we can be in person. Last week, syllabus reviews were often accompanied by student introductions.
“Tell me a few things about yourself?” the professors asked.
The floor then rumbled with groans and chairs swiveled as friends gazed at one another with synchronized eye rolls. Providing just a hint of personal background is a burden in that context; nervous feet and fingers tap as hometowns and career interests are rattled off.
But I imagine a decent portion of those hesitant folks updated their profile statuses not an hour beforehand with mosaic detail. Had I been Internet “friends” with some of them, I could have added to their remarks, the details of their lunch or, more thrilling, the progress on their laundry.
The obsessive forums this technology created has curiously affected us. For whatever reason, we feel our consciousness deserves constant broadcast. There’s a desire for recognition or celebrity because otherwise maybe we’d feel somehow less significant, less successful. It’s ironic that we’re usually not doing or saying anything noteworthy.
But even “real” celebrities can be confounding in this regard. It might make them appear more accessible to the public, but in some instances I’d rather keep them idealized in my head.
Conan O’Brien used to have a mocking segment called “Twitter Tracker.” A loud narrator shared, or rather yelled, what he called “sweet tweets,” having brushed aside all the dull ones. The tweets were purposefully anticlimactic though, such as this gem from Miley Cyrus: This line is insane! Am I ever going to get my latte?
“Who cares?” O’Brien rightfully asked.
I just read in “Rolling Stone” that John Mayer frequently tweets about poop ... actually, that’s funny.
Thankfully, some stars use the tool to benefit their fans. Dana White, president of the Ultimate Fighting Championship, has shared his whereabouts with the promise of free tickets for big matches. Watching wicked violence isn’t my release, but he’s made many cauliflower-eared people happy thanks to Twitter.
And while we might not be capable of such heights, it’s still worthwhile to contemplate what we virtually put forward as being somehow desirable or positive. I mean, we’re essentially encouraging a unique form of stalking and the goal is not to bore or annoy your followers into retreat. You know you’re waiting for those “likes” and comments, even if they do come from someone you befriended three years ago and have forgotten.
Ultimately, is there any true harm if “what’s on your mind?” falls short of beautiful prose? I guess not, although people might secretly pass judgment, but that’s inherent in most aspects of life. Maybe I just need to loosen up — on the dance floor, perhaps? That will require some liquid confidence however, and the crowds could be dense. I’ll have to grab the blue “total bitch” to prevent a mix up.
She said:
If you’re my Facebook friend, chances are that you’ll immediately disqualify me from giving out any advice on “netiquette.”
Because I’ve lost so many brain cells during my collegiate career, I like to document my day in order to remember it later. Unfortunately for my friends, my Facebook status is the most convenient way to do this so I update way too much.
But in reality, I know this incessant posting is a no-no. I’m sure that some of my fellow Facebook junkies desperately want to unfriend me.
Even if I’m the scourge of status updates, I can still offer a bit of advice about online activity that might distance friends or followers.
I have a Twitter account that I use regularly. Because I am constrained to 140 characters, I can complain, celebrate or just hash out a bit of my day without getting too carried away.
But the worst part about Twitter is that you can “retweet.” For those of you who are unfamiliar with Twitter, a retweet is basically reposting a tweet that someone else has written.
I have a few friends that I follow on Twitter because I know them, and I’m curious about just exactly what snippets their minds will produce. However, instead of producing their own material, they retweet the words of others.
But that’s just the thing. I don’t want to hear about your friend’s friend’s opinion on the upcoming Apple iPad or crap somebody’s dad said. I’m following the one person whose own quirky thoughts are nowhere to be found in a mire of supposedly entertaining retweets.
I continue following these people, hoping that a flash of personal brilliance will show itself somewhere in their updates.
Facebook itself has a lot more room for content and therefore a lot more room for personal expression. But considering Facebook’s seemingly god-like ability to allow comments on anything ever, you have to be very careful about your interactions.
A good rule is using the “like” button to break the ice. If you haven’t really talked to someone in five years, you can still “like” something of theirs to show that yes, you’re reading and yes, you do care. It’s short, somewhat impersonal and completely non-threatening.
But with commenting, it’s easy to cross the line. Unless we’re bosom buds or exchanging bodily fluids, don’t comment on every single thing I post — especially if your opinion is less-than-welcome.
For example, I posted a celebratory update exclaiming “I got a great internship at such-and-such!” My first comment was from a guy who always has an opinion on everything — and shares it. His infuriating response? “Eh.”
Way to take a digital dump on my dreams, guy.
Another way to lose brownie points with your friends: tagging pictures. If you have a picture of me where I’m so crazy-drunk that I resemble Jack Nicholson, please don’t post a picture and tag me in it. Please, be humane. Nobody likes unflattering pictures of herself.
But the most common, horrible thing I see regularly on Facebook is people being hateful in their status updates.
And I’m not talking normal hateful like “my job sucks,” “Organic Chemistry sucks” or “the weather sucks.” I’m talking about outrageously bigoted things that my “friends” happen to say.
For example, one person I know wrote, “All the Muslims need to be kicked out of the country, like they’re doing in Australia.”
Seriously.
Why you’d ever put that as your status on Facebook beats me, particularly because Australia never decided to kick out its Muslim population in the first place. I cited Snopes.com on this one and told the guy to at least be an informed ass rather than just an ignorant one.
He unfriended me, but it was worth it.
So the next time you feel the urge to tweet or post, a rule of thumb is to make sure that you’re a nicer version of you, even if you feel the need to post six updates an hour. After all, it’s always better to be annoying than a jerk — online as well as in real life.