Top 5 _____
Recently, I was asked by a friend whether it would be appropriate to put a particular movie in her “favorite movies” list on Facebook.
“Would it be a faux pas?” she wondered. “I’m just, worried, you know, about cultivating and stewarding my Facebook identity.” She proceeded to explain that what you like is “like 30% of you!” (The other 70%, naturally, being water.)
This strikes me as a rather common anxiety, and, if not entirely new to this era, certainly more of a problem now than in generations previous. Our grandparents may have worried about what books to display on their shelves, and our parents may have fretted over what records to leave faux-casually strewn across the floor in their college dorm rooms, but those were occasional experiences, not hourly struggles. There was, for most, no sense of being constantly on display. Even the most self- and status-conscious could count on a measure of privacy. Now, thanks to Facebook and its kin, millions have been prodded into a life lived on a virtual stage, perpetually engaged in the performance of attempting to be oneself—or at least what you imagine or hope to be the ideal of it.
Online profiles mean that everyone is now in an unending process of designing a brochure for themselves. The problems for people are the same as for corporations: what to include, what to exclude, what color choices and snappy headlines to employ. It must answer the question Who am I? in 250 words or less. Individuals, even non-famous ones, take on the qualities of brands, and the branding has become an acceptable, indeed, necessary component of social interaction. Advertising is a way of life; we live in the Age of Marketing.
This is the price we pay for Staying Connected. That’s not an indictment: It allows friends across the world, or even just the city, to mingle on your desktop; will anyone ever need to bring photos to their desks anymore? Those friendly little icons, passive and wordless, can now be replaced with digital photo albums, live chats, and endless piles of carefully arranged details: likes, dislikes, and other details, like the backs of old trading cards.
What will come of this? I couldn’t say. And anyway, I don’t have time to wonder—someone just IMed me, and my profile needs updating.
Lifestyle Consumerism in the Age of Comparisons: When Smallness Looms Large, and Largeness Looms Small.
— JA · Apr 21, 07:06 PM · #
What you like is not 30% of you. Consumption is not creation; the music you like doesn’t reveal you to be some goddam unique snowflake.
I’m ashamed of my generation. (Isn’t everyone?)
— Freddie · Apr 21, 08:28 PM · #
Freddie, don’t take this the wrong way but I’d have put you at least a decade older than the “Facebook Generation.” Indeed, in my head I had put you that much older. I commend your premature jadedness. One of the things that surprises me about Facebook among the sorts Peter is writing about is that avidity and earnestness, the sort of dorky literalness and exhaustiveness, of the self-presentation. I’d have assumed that, at least among hipsters, a self-guarding irony and minimalism would prevail. You’d advertise your sensibility performatively, not through lists. Little dada gestures. Instead, they turn out to be a bunch of auto-encyclopedists: “OMG, I can’t believe I left off Modest Mouse!” Is it the death of cool?
— Matt Feeney · Apr 21, 11:37 PM · #
From “The World According to Mr. Rogers”: “Discovering the truth about ourselves is a lifetime’s work, but it’s worth the effort.” Mr. Rogers also says, “Whatever we choose to imagine can be as private as we want it to be. Nobody knows what you’re thinking or feeling unless you share it.”
— Joules · Apr 21, 11:48 PM · #
I’m 26, a little old for the first Facebook generation— it only started really spreading my senior year. So maybe I’m too old. I had Friendster before that though; my older brother invited me to join it by saying “Come join this lame and annoying popularity contest with me.”
Personally, that’s pretty close to how I’d characterize my Facebook ethic, Matt. It’s not really with a sort of ironic detachment but a kind of willful obscurity and gentle weirdness. (I always say that acknowledging that something is ridiculous and ridiculing it are two different things.) Anyway, I like, for example, to mix some sort of mild mockery of the genre (like putting “anything with a good beat!” down for favorite music) along with terribly earnest stuff, like quotes from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel or Kierkegaard, or sun kil moon lyrics.
PS I think the reason most people don’t just go whole-hog funny or mocking is on the off chance that having a “serious” profile will get them laid.
— Freddie · Apr 22, 12:33 AM · #
Oh, YOU’RE not too old! I’m 43 and most of my friends have Facebook pages. At least you don’t earnestly quote Mr. Rogers, like I do. I used to make fun of him all the time, until I grew up and realized he was right about a lot of things.
— Joules · Apr 22, 03:18 AM · #
Well, what I meant was that I’m too old to perfectly capture the Facebook Zeitgeist. Not that anyone is too old to use it.
— Freddie · Apr 22, 07:22 AM · #
Freddie, you’re 26? I’m astonished. There are probably a few thousand 26-year olds as smart as you are, but there can’t be more than a handful as mature. I will be disappointed if you don’t accomplish great things.
Getting back to the topic, I think refusing to list your favorite movies and pets on Facebook is a sign of maturity. A photo means you have nothing to hide, and is admirable, especially if you are hot. A list of favorite movies is 99% certain to be lame, no matter what movies are on it.
— J Mann · Apr 22, 03:19 PM · #
I took the opportunity to list my favorite things because it had been so long since I’d thought about them. These preferred things often get buried under loads of responsibility. It was really refreshing to remember those things.
— Joules · Apr 22, 07:02 PM · #