When I added my brother-in-law, Pete, as a friend, his welcoming post back to me said, "Welcome to your new addiction." Since that time I've found that I check the site three or four times a day. I'm secretly thrilled to play the part of social voyeur. My "friends" trot out a variety of information about their lives, both mundane and profound. I ached for one young woman whose marriage ended, for one young man who relayed his sadness coming home alone after a night out, and for another friend who wrote a touching remembrance of his nephew who died a couple of years ago. I chuckled at the angst of another middle-aged pal who took the quiz "What Random Object Are You?" only to discover that he was a fishbowl. I've smiled at pictures of friends with children, friends in exotic places, friends engaged in their passions. Some of what gets posted is remarkably personal, as if the friend were writing only for himself or herself and not his or her tens or hundreds of "friends." At first this self revelation seemed strange, but then I thought about what I do in this blog. It's different, if at all, only in form and degree.
I now believe that, on balance, the Facebook scene works to pull people together and not, as first I feared it might, to put distance between them by substituting digital "sound-byte" content for meaningful contact. Facebook gives us frequent little reminders of our connection to people (friends, relatives and acquaintances) who orbit in our lives. It may even encourage us to reach out in person to those whom we would enjoy getting together with but whom we unconsciously neglect in the press of every day demands.
There is, of course, a commercial engine that drives the world of Facebook, an engine that runs faster the more we use its various fun features. To its credit, Facebook gives us fair warning. Click on the link to take the "What Random Object Are You?" quiz and this disclaimer pops up: "Allowing What Random Object Are You? access will let it pull your profile information, photos, your friends' info, and other content that it requires to work." And what does Facebook do with your profile information? It helps others sell you things by placing targeted ads at the side of your home and profile pages. My profile tells my friends (and Facebook) that I am a fan of Tori Amos; an ad at the right of my profile page tells me how I can click over to a site that features an interview with her. My profile says that I enjoy creative writing and one of my posts reveals that I have just started writing a play. Wow -there in the column of ads is one for a Short Script Competition and another for a book called "The Soul of Creative Writing."
There is nothing wrong with this, of course. Worse things have happened to me than having others sell me products and services that I might want. In the end it's up to me to decide what I want or need, and you can't blame the provider of a "free" service like Facebook from trying to figure it out. Retailer Amazon (www.amazon.com) has been genius through the years at analyzing what we buy and offering us more of what it thinks we want. If I'm honest with myself I have to admit that I've discovered and bought a lot of very good books and music that I might never have known existed without my friends at Amazon taking care of me. I've expressed my thanks with thousands of dollars of purchases.
Facebook isn't yet an addiction for me, but it does give me a pretty good buzz. And so, for now at least, I'll keep looking, with permission, through the windows of my friends and acquaintances while they undress their lives in front of me. Occasionally I'll even undress in front of the window myself, at least down to my psychological boxer shorts. Through it all, I'll let Facebook offer me opportunities for commerce (as long as it is gentle and respects my long-time, committed relationship with Amazon).
