YourSpace

—or—

I Wish I Didn’t Suck at Life Quite So Much


Before anyone accuses me of being anti-technology, or of downplaying the importance of the Internet for communication, let me preface this post by making it clear that while I am an admitted technology dinosaur, it’s not because I’m afraid of technology. It’s because I’m good at simple things: writing, making music, cooking, daydreaming, and making plans I’ll never follow through with. Regarding technology, beyond finding a close enough electrical outlet to plug my laptop’s charger into, I’m helpless. I don’t know the first thing about advanced connections, routers, networks, servers, motherboards, RAM, ROM, or any of the other scary words and acronyms that pepper the conversations of those more savvy than I (which is pretty much everyone).

That being said, there are a few stops along the Internet that I look forward to pulling into daily. I like keeping in touch with friends via email. When I was deployed to Iraq, I liked that news of home was never further away than my fingertips. Years ago, the men and women of the armed forces waited weeks to receive letters from their loved ones, and when they did, they’d be lucky if it hadn’t been steamed open, censored, and resealed. I like listening to the live music stream from my favorite independent radio station out of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (WYEP-FM, in case anyone’s curious…you’ll find a link in the list on the right.) I like looking for recipes, I like skimming the news headlines, I liked that I wrote entire term papers based on nothing but information I found online, and I love being able to buy pretty much anything from the comfort of my house at three in the morning.

I spend enough time twiddling around online that it wouldn’t be fair of me to judge anyone for the amount of time they devote to sites like MySpace, Facebook, Friendster, and the myriad others that surely exist, but which I have never heard of. I’m not willing to admit how many hours a week I spend glued to my favorite forum for all things low-carb. (And for those of you who know me, you know I usually have no problem admitting to some pretty wacky stuff, so that should give you some idea of just how much time we’re talking about here.)

A few years ago, when I had a job where I was in front of a computer for most of the day, I did my share of instant messaging and chatting. (My boss was very cool about it. As long as I got my work done, he didn’t mind. Although…there was one time [just one] that he had to gently remind me that while sending instant messages was fine, it was not actually the top priority for which he was paying my salary.) I understand completely that it’s difficult not to spend a lot of time on those personalized sites, particularly when you have your own computer and a decent amount of down time at work.

The thing is, I’m not sure these sites are everything they’re cracked up to be. To be fair, I admit I have accounts on all three of the sites I mentioned above. However, it’s been at least a month since I logged into Facebook, longer than that for MySpace, and I honestly couldn’t tell you how long it’s been since I did anything on Friendster. I keep getting emails that so-and-so, whom I haven’t seen or spoken to since elementary school, has requested me as a “friend” on Facebook.

I can’t deny that it’s interesting to see what people are up to—where they moved to, where they went to school, whether they’re married or have children. I also can’t deny that these friend requests have put me in touch with a handful of people I wish I’d gotten to know better years ago.

On the other hand, I wonder if we aren’t eroding the concept of "friendship" when we accept as “friends” people whom we weren’t really all that close to in junior high, let alone seventeen years later. It’s not that I have anything against any of these people. (There’s only one person on the planet against whom I hold a grudge, and she knows better than to try and be my “friend.”) In fact, some of these people were the “cool kids” in high school—or, at least, I thought so at the time. They were the people whom I wished I could be friends with. But it’s been a long time, and while I’m still not completely comfortable in my own skin, I have enough peace with myself that I no longer long for superficial relationships, and I don’t define myself by the clothing my friends wear, or by whether they partied Friday night or sat home with a good book. I didn’t go out of my way to fit in with them then. Why would I, now?

I hope I’m not coming off as arrogant or uppity. Like I said, I’ve heard from a few people whom I was genuinely happy to get back in touch with. The others, though…well, I don’t know how to say this delicately, so I’ll just say it. There are only so many hours in a day. I have a hard enough time staying in reasonable contact with the people I truly care about; I’m not sure how much I can spare for people who’ve resurfaced after twenty years (in some cases), and with whom I was never really chummy in the first place. It’s not that I dislike them, or that I ever had a falling out with any of them. I guess it’s simply like I said: there are only so many hours. We pick and choose how we spend our time, and some pursuits are more valuable to us than others. (This is one of the nicer things about growing up, I think. You have a firmer idea of what you like and what you don’t, and you get over feeling like you need to apologize for either of them.)

Another reason I’m not the biggest fan of these sites—although I’ve changed my mind about this recently (and will explain why in a minute)—is that I thought they give people a false sense of self-importance. Oooh, look how many friends I have! I *must* update my page, so that everyone knows where I am and what I’m doing at all times. Call me crazy; I just don’t think I’m that special. (Again, before I inadvertently offend anyone out there who’s addicted to these sites, I do understand the immediacy they can take on. I’m addicted to plenty of stuff on the web, so I’m not looking down on anyone who cannot tear themselves away. I’m merely explaining why, for the most part, these personal sites aren’t for me.)

I think it’s neat that people can post pictures, personalize the background music, all the graphics, and fill their pages with everything from personality quizzes to blogs, to messages from friends. In a way, it’s like email on crack. You post your news, your successes, your failures, your plans, pictures from your vacation to Jamaica, and a detailed account of your trip to the bathroom when you got home from dollar burrito night at the Mexican joint down the road. It’s a one-stop-shop where all your friends can get the play-by-play of every minute of the incomprehensibly awesome thing that is your life.

Okay, sorry…I started doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do, which is get judgmental. ;-)

Back on track now.

I said that I recently changed my mind about the false sense of importance these sites risk instilling in some people. After giving it a respectable amount of thought, I realized that maybe people need these sites. Maybe they need to feel in control of something, even if it’s only a tiny section of cyberspace. I realized that some people live under a great deal of constraint—some that they put on themselves, but plenty that are more or less beyond their control. If you have a job, you’re automatically not in control of everything. You have a boss you’re accountable to (maybe more than one), and maybe you have clients you’re accountable to as well. Even if you’re your own boss, you still have constraints—time, money, customers, logistics. If you’re married, and most certainly if you have children, you’re constrained. (For a good cause, no question, but constrained nonetheless.) As for the constraints we place on ourselves, well, some of us make sure we spend time working out every week. Some of us make sure we get to church or temple every week. Some make sure we put away some money every month, or spend time volunteering somewhere. It’s hard to imagine anyone being 100% free to control every aspect of their life. And with that realization came the understanding that these personalized sites are the quickest and simplest way to exercise some degree of autonomy. Granted, you might not be able to customize and post everything you’d like to (what with those pesky pornography/obscenity laws and such), but you can get pretty close.

Furthermore, maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the need to feel important now and then. Beyond the desire to “own” a little piece of cyberspace, maybe people need to exercise some autonomy over their very existence. Maybe they need their sites to remind themselves that they are more than some company’s employee, more than another cog in the machine, and yes, more than so-and-so’s wife, or so-and-so’s father. And if posting pictures and writing opinion pieces helps them do that, how could I possibly have anything against that?

And now, lest I leave you with the impression that I’ve fully embraced these sites, let me get into the final reason why I’m wary of spending too much time on these sites—or any time, as the case has been for the last several weeks. Frankly, there’s just too much potential for discovering depression-inducing facts about people with whom I would otherwise never have contact.

Case in point: I was on the phone with a friend the other day (a real friend, not one in name only on Facebook). She mentioned that she was checking out an old acquaintance’s page on one of these sites. (Okay, he was more than an acquaintance. He was the object of many an erotic fantasy for her, and plenty of non-erotic ones, too, that simply involved him falling head over heels in love with her, marrying her, and the two of them living happily ever after in the most blissful wedded bliss in the history of wedded bliss.) Anyway, this young man is now engaged to someone else, and my friend discovered that they registered at a nationwide department store for a china pattern that costs—get this—138 dollars per place setting. Maybe their friends all have money trees in their backyards, or maybe the fiancé’s family is loaded and will settle for nothing less than their daughter eating off of solid gold plates with diamond dust sparkling on the edges. (Okay, in all fairness, I have no idea what the pattern really is, but seriously, for $138 per setting, it had better have some diamonds in it. Or ivory from the tusks of an endangered breed of elephant. Call me crazy, but you can get cute “everyday” dishes from most discount stores for around $30, or a little more if you need more than four place settings. Yes, I’m talking about Corelle, the dishes of champions, the dishes everyone I grew up with had, because our parents all bought them in the mid-seventies because they were cheap, nearly indestructible [though not entirely], and microwave-safe, which would come in handy a few years later.)

Why did I bring up REDI (the Ridiculously Expensive Dishes Incident)? It’s just one example of how these personalized sites can affect the psyche of someone who’s not in the best frame of mind to see how old friends are getting along these days. (This particular situation affected my friend, not me, but you get the point.)

Before I go any further, let me offer a caveat: I’m thirty years old, unemployed, and living with my parents. (Go ahead, just call me George Costanza. Or, if you’ve never seen Seinfeld, then just call me pathetic; it’s equally effective.) I haven’t been “at the top of my game” in eight years. When I graduated from college, I was ambitious, hardworking, dedicated, and poised to take the world by storm. Too bad I didn’t do anything about this, and instead, let my life go ker-SPLAT. From the ensuing years of spotty employment at jobs I hated, and the quitting of not one but two master’s degree programs, I now resemble nothing so much as a wad of gum that someone spit onto the sidewalk ten years ago, and is now black and petrified from a decade of being stepped on, rained on, snowed on, skated over, biked over, and generally considered an eyesore to anyone who happens to notice it. (Okay, it’s not quite that bad. I’ve faced no hardships that can be likened to being rained on or skated over. All the feelings of inadequacy I have are the product of nothing but my own laziness, fear, and self-doubt. I have no one but myself to blame for my current position. Still, the fact that it was my own doing, and not someone else’s, that led me to this point doesn’t change the fact that at this moment, my life is less noteworthy than that blob of decade-old gum that’s become a permanent part of the concrete.)

When I talk about why these websites make me uncomfortable, I am, of course, basing things on my own feelings. That being said, I’d be surprised if there weren’t plenty of people out there like me, for whom MySpace and its ilk are just one more venue for other people to advertise how much less they suck at life than you do. Look, here are pics of me and my entourage in Puerto Vallarta! Here’s a picture of me receiving my PhD in microbiology; don’t I look great in the cap and gown? Here’s an excerpt from my novel that just won the National Book Award. (Copies available at fine bookstores everywhere!)

Okay, so maybe this, too, isn’t quite that bad. Obviously, I’m exaggerating. Most people just post pictures of themselves, their spouse, their kids, and family vacations. And I can’t even claim to be jealous. The fact is, I’m not. I do want to get married at some point, but I’m not interested in raising kids, and even if I was, at the moment, what with being unemployed and living with the folks, I can’t say I’m ready for either one of those.

I guess it boils down to the grass being greener. I don’t know why it should affect me so strongly that so-and-so moved to wherever and is doing whatever for a living. Some of my friends seem pretty impressed by what I’ve done in the military, but to me, most of it was no big deal. It sounded good to other people, but I knew better. Maybe it’s the same way for everyone else. Maybe everyone’s just trying to muddle through as best they can, wondering when they’re going to get their head screwed on straight, and each one of them has somebody they look to and think, Damn, now *that* is something.

The fact is, my life pales in comparison to some. My lack of direction and even a remote sense of certainty makes me feel threatened by other people’s accomplishments. I have no right to feel this way. I’ve put myself in the position I’m in. It’s not my friend the successful lawyer’s fault that my head is up my you-know-what. It’s not my friend the engineer’s fault that I can’t seem to figure out what the heck I want to do with myself. It’s not my friend the ex-cop’s fault that I got out of the military without a job lined up, and it’s not my friend the senior software designer’s fault that I’m so afraid of being unhappy that I’ve prevented myself from even being content. (Shout-out to you if you recognize yourself here! You’re probably the only four people who ever read this thing! Wheee!)

I’m pretty sure I’ll feel less overshadowed by other people once I get my act together. When I’m able to say, “My name is Amy, and for once, I’m earning my paycheck.” Or, “My name is Amy, and my first novel is being published next month.” Or even just, “My name is Amy, and my job isn’t the fulfillment of all my life’s hopes and dreams, but I’m back out here, among the living, being a productive member of society, and chipping away at something that will be a novel if I keep working hard, and I watch funny movies when I need cheering up, and a good, strong cup of coffee is one of my go-to pick-me-ups, and I love going for walks near pretty scenery, and a while back, I turned into a girly girl who likes shoes and perfume, and I no longer want to vomit when I see myself in a mirror, and I love fudge brownies and exotic trail mixes, and Danielle Steel books are my guilty pleasure, and I may not be where I’d like to be, but I’m moving in the right direction.”

Yeah…something like that.

But until that happens, I’ll stick to my favorite websites, where like-minded people preach to the choir, and I don’t have to read tidbits about people from my third grade class that make me feel worthless.


MySpace? No, thanks. It’s your space, and you can have it.










Disclaimer: MySpace, Facebook, and Friendster corporate-type people, please don’t sue me. I *did* acknowledge the good things about your sites, didn’t I? Let’s all play nice and leave our lawyers out of it, shall we? :D