I highly relate to this post from Carrie Brownstein regarding Facebook:
Do you ever wonder what the guy you sat next to in high-school math class is doing? Right now? Well, Facebook answers that question. He is doing his laundry. Yes, it’s that exciting. My highest Facebook achievement to date entails a mobile photo upload of a Gresham police officer issuing me a speeding ticket. But I actually do love the site for making sense of all of the disparate groups of friends I have around the world, gathering them in a single virtual sphere, and making my relationship with them present instead of past-tense. Facebook has also become a repository for our old photos — the pre-digital ones — creating a fluid historical space, linking one music scene to another, charting one decade’s transformation into the next, illuminating a generation of citizens’ effect on their predecessors, and acting as a simultaneous artifact and living museum. So, for the most part, Facebook has been a positive, sometimes exciting enterprise. Yet over the holidays, I found myself discussing Facebook at parties, which gave me pause. Here I was, in person with my friends, talking about our virtual friendship. Then, another friend of mine sent me a note that read, “Wow, you are taking this Facebook thing seriously.” My skepticism was reborn.
I have had a pretty amazing reconnection with people from my distant past through Facebook, that is true. I have “befriended” the proverbial girl from high school math class and all that. It’s very bizarre. There are people on there that I simply never expected to see again, ever, and yet here they are, complete with pictures and pertinent info on their lives. Too much? Yeah, probably.
If I had a regular job sitting in an office I’d probably be on it all day. As it is, it’s hard not to check it every now and then throughout the day. The status updates are getting ridiculous. I don’t know. The only reason I even got on it was, like MySpace, to promote my band. I even joined and then didn’t go back to it for almost a year because it seemed pretty stupid to me.
Now, suddenly everyone is on it and the world is hog wild with Facebook. What to do? I’m not sure. I’ve had interaction–real interaction–with people I never would otherwise, like my best friend from grade school or the girl I met once on tour in Fargo or the newspaper columnist for the Sun-Times whose book I happen to be reading, not to mention all the people who live in different cities or countries.
So there it is. I don’t know if the world is getting too small or what, and I’m not sure if that’s bad or good. Somewhere in between I imagine.