Morning:
8°c
A month or two ago, Facebook almost lost me. My last update, I noticed just before Christmas, was “Charlotte is wrapping”, a reference to the previous December's activity. The social networking site had become just another thing to worry about, a further reminder of my poor social hygiene. It seemed the only decent thing to do was log off. Permanently.
To top it all, Facebook is five years old this week. In internet years that makes it an antique. But just as I pondered buying an iPhone, or switching my allegiance to LinkedIn, an absent-minded people-trawl yielded my childhood best friend. We lost touch nearly 20 years ago when careers and men took us in disparate directions.
I'd looked for her before but a year ago she still hadn't joined. Hardly anyone from my old school had, now there are hundreds. So in the past year, when the early adopters Twittered off and the media darlings who loved it so at first began rumours of its demise, the rest of the world has signed up to Facebook.
The result is not as exciting as those first buzzy months. There's a lot less sending of silly gifts, fewer games of Scrabulous, and spontaneous acts have become a little more considered. Instead, there are photo albums of babies, wedding parties and kittens frolicking in the snow. Posts, once achingly witty, now err towards the banal, with mentions of biscuits and piano practice the norm.
And here's the thing: I like it more that way. Instead of using Facebook as a personal branding platform, as happened in the self-conscious early years, we've settled into being ourselves. Pressure to perform is so last year; now it is OK just to “be”. To me, that's Facebook's most appealing paradox: marrying the potential for alarming intimacy with the space to be as distant as you please.
So finding my old friend was emotionally mixed. Unlike me, she stayed close to home, so the past I've run away from all my adult life popped up in the form of her contacts list. There they were, my childhood friends and foes, all grown up with teenage children of their own. In a rush of nostalgia I thought maybe we should have a get-together; we could put the word out on Facebook.
Then it hit me. All I want to know about my classmates is on their profile page: the big life landmarks and the boring details, too. There's no need to meet up in a draughty village hall. Facebook is the high school reunion.
Reader views (2)
Oh Dear!
I think somebody should also have mentioned to Paul from Bromley about the dangers of posting online comments to the London Evening Standard after having a few drinks.....
- Andi-M, London, England Innit!, 07/02/2009 21:09
Report abuse
It's a good article Charlotte. However, you should have mentioned the dangers of posting on Facebook after a few drinks lol. Now that can be embarrassing when re-reading in the sober light of the following day..!
Oh, Twitter is very, very dull. I joined for 5 mins.
Stay beautiful.
Paul x
- Paul Jardine, Bromley, Kent, 06/02/2009 13:01
Report abuse
