So, on a rainy Sunday afternoon, I left Facebook. I don't know why, my mouse just moved to the button that said "de-activate account". I wanted to know how it worked, if what they said about Facebook not quite ever letting you leave, was true.
You see, Facebook doesn't delete your account, it just saves it. Everything you've ever done, all the posts you've written, all the friends you've made, all the profile pictures you've changed and changed again, they all stay somewhere on the Internet, floating in somekind of cyber no-space. If a person tries to find you on Facebook, you're not there; it's like someone got a time machine and went back to the point where you opened your account, and just erased you from the history of the website. Leaving Facebook doesn't so much mean Facebook suicide, but more like Facebook cryogenic suspension. Should you return, it's like a reset button was pushed, your account and every person you've been in touch with, all are restored to you. Again, it's like some insidious, impersonal version of the end of It's A Wonderful Life, when James Stuart returns to the world as he knows it and goes running through the streets of Bedford Falls, screaming Merry Christmas at everyone he passes.
Facebook also seems to get very hurt when you leave. To use another analogy, if you and Facebook were a married couple who were separating, then the site essentially pulls the "but what about the children?" card on you. It shows you pictures of friends who will "miss" you if you leave. Then, you are required to give one of several possible reasons as to why you want to leave Facebook. For every reason, Facebook offers a plaintive response of how it can change to meet your needs, how any problem you have can be worked out.
You have to enter your password twice, because some cruel imposter could have logged on and removed you from Facebook. To be honest, if someone was posing as me, I would hope they could do something a bit more hi-tech and imaginative than just removing me from Facebook. Removing me from Facebook is much less fun than writing something silly on someone's status, "Facebook rape" as it's come to be called.
The most chilling part comes the next morning, when I switch my computer back on. I am thinking about job searching, what I am going to have for breakfast. Without realising it, I have gone back to the Facebook login page. It's just the first page I go to, like my brain is on auto-pilot. And when I get there, I can just log back into Facebook like I never left. It doesn't ask you to start again, doesn't put any obstacles in your way.
It turns out my head is wired to Facebook. I can go a few days, maybe even a couple of weeks, without checking it. But the idea that I could leave it forever is kind of strange. You think of all the people you could potentially lose touch with, then realise that you haven't spoken to those people in months. It just so happens that a page on the Internet gives you the feeling that you are in contact. This is what they call Facebook stalking, but it's often more idle than that. It's one version of that habit I think most of us now have, of idly flicking through pages on the Internet, not really doing anything, just looking at things, pictures, websites, random pieces of information. Youtube is not far behind Facebook in that regard.
I don't think it's a malevolent, or generally pre-meditated activity; our knowledge of what other people are doing is just an extension of the Internet age, like going on a news website, or online banking. There is now an interest in where people go on nights out, what their holidays look like, if they have made new friends. And, to be fair, the only thing equalled by the desire to know these things, is the desire on the part of the other person to share it. People can be discrete on Facebook, others can use it as a more blatant form of self-expression. Giving it up altogether is something entirely different.
No comments:
Post a Comment