Fast forward to the now and I still don’t know when the hell to throw down a LOL. I mean, when was the last time you typed “LOL” and were actually, physically laughing out loud? It’s rare that one laughs out loud during a typed conversation, but it seems that LOL is thrown around quite gratuitously.
Here’s a hilarious somewhat thought-provoking video about privacy on Facebook. It’s so strange how the Millennials are more or less comfortable giving a machine their personal information, but not another human being…
Years before it was possible to spend hours at a time stalking exes and exes of exes on Facebook, there was just the straight up internet. Specifically, AOL – anyone who used Netscape or ICQ made me feel uneasy because… well, how simple was it to just use AOL?
Aron (James Franco) is always snapping away. He has a video camera attached to his mountain bike. When he falls hard off his bike, before getting up, he snaps a picture. One could no doubt read this as a watering down of the purity of his event, living in the document rather than the real thing.
During this time the individual will have several windows open, generally several browser ‘tabs,’ a Microsoft Word document in some state of incompletion, the individual’s own Facebook page as well as that of another randomly-selected individual who may or may not be on the ‘friends’ list, 2-5 Gchat conversations that are no longer immediately active, possibly iTunes and a ‘client’ for Twitter.
As of 5:34 PM EST, 4chan is down, and we can only assume this is the first major disaster in Web War I (WWI) – a war 4 chan’s anarchic /b/ messageboard declared on the microblogging/sharing platform Tumblr early last week.
Maxime Luère‘s short film, A Life On Facebook, tells the accelerated life story of Alex Droner. Through the stream of information on his Facebook profile we see him accumulate friends and photos, fall in and out of love, and eventually grow old and logout.
All the while, of course, I’ve left my gmail window up and active, where I can just see the very top tab of the screen where it says: Gmail – Inbox (9). And my eyes are constantly, desperately shooting back to that parenthetic number, hoping, waiting, praying for it to change, as if, the instant that my 9 turns into a 10, it’s an irrefutable sign that someone loves me, someone needs me, someone’s thinking about me, that I’m good and worthwhile valuable…