You spend three weeks texting and G-chatting and video chatting constantly with someone and then it just stops. The person falls off of the earth or maybe you do because things have just become too belabored. You wonder what the point of all this correspondence is and decide to sign offline for good.
People know they want to connect with other people and they’ve acknowledged, by signing their souls to more and more accounts, that the Internet is the way to reach this goal. This is why, when I opened up my Gmail account yesterday and saw the Google+ invite sitting pretty in my inbox, I signed up, all the while applauding myself for setting myself ahead of the social media curve.
Oh my god, was there anything worse than “Have a great summer?” You might as well have written “Piss off and die, you social pariah!” Whenever someone would write that in my yearbook, I would basically weep in the corner and be like, “Why does this person hate me so much? I thought we were friends!”
I don’t think “creeper,” or “stalker” properly defines a person who uses Facebook to gather some information about a friend or neighbor. After all, even digging into the deepest pockets of a Facebook profile is still just observing what the user made available to the public. It’s not like the “Facebook stalker” is rifling through someone’s underwear drawer.
You like yourself. You think you’re good company. You go to lunch by yourself, catch the occasional movie all by your lonesome, and are content in spending a solo star night in. You would hang out with you. Sure. Why not?
In the case of the PS3, users understand the idea of punishing a hardware giant for trying to interfere in its users’ sense of individual ownership, and while they may not support organized crime, while they might feel super totally bad about people’s credit cards being compromised, they can assume that identity theft is only a side effect of the reckoning to which Sony is now being called.
We flooded the message board with personal flirty messages that redefined the word corny. We called each other husband, and wrote big public posts of longing and missing. After two weeks we had enough of the distance (Death Cab’s Transatlanticism was our theme song.) and decided to meet up.
How to be an Artist: Start an Etsy ‘store.’ Draw small robots, animals or ‘things’ on printer paper. Add minimal color using the markers you used in grade school. These drawings’ overarching theme should be one of ‘cuteness’ or ‘twee.’ Frame these drawings and list them on Etsy for $20 a piece. Facebook status update that you’ve “finally” started an Etsy page “so [you] can FINALLY start selling [your] art.”
If anything, what Zuckerberg has done so masterfully is make you believe that you are the master of your virtual universe, controlling your privacy settings, with the ability to add, find or delete friends, hide posts, and poke people that you like. It may not be a meaningful way of connecting, but it offers the opportunity for meaningful connections to happen.
Jeffree Star may have very well been someone’s AB once upon a time; but at the peak of his MySpace fame he more closely resembled the Barbie’s World equivalent of Marilyn Manson. His pink hair and glittery persona was all Babs, but the “I removed my bottom ribs to perform oral sex on myself” look was totally Marilyn.