21st-century wedding rings

Facebook up in my face

Jacinthe Blab, Volunteer Staff

It all began like any other normal day. I was at my computer and opened my e-mail account. As per usual, numerous Facebook.com notifications greeted me. I clicked on a message from my brother. In the few moments before the page loaded I asked myself for the thousandth time since I signed up for Facebook: why had I not cancelled my account yet? I’m either annoyed with or mistrustful of nearly every aspect of this networking tool. My brother’s message carried an undeniable aggressive tone. The gist: he had found out that my sister was engaged through my sister’s boyfriend’s Facebook profile. Her boyfriend’s “relationship status” had been updated from “in a relationship with” to “engaged.” Verifying for myself, in the hopes that my dear brother wrote me in a confused state of inebriation, I found it to be true — I learned of my sister’s pending marriage through a rather faceless method of interaction.

I felt betrayed. I was irate. I complained and soap-boxed to everyone in proximity about the social communication breakdown that is being facilitated by impersonal technologies. Unfortunately for you reader types, my continuous indignant cries landed me in the position of writing an article, presumably an article with one or more of the following: a point, a moral, a start, and an end. No such article on my behalf exists at the time of print. Since taking on this article, I have spoken with a number of friends and most notably, my sister. What felt like fervent opinions and intelligent arguments yesterday have dissolved into a murky pool (not unlike melted chocolate ice cream) of confused sentence fragments. My sister was extremely apologetic. She didn’t count on me seeing her partner’s post before she had a chance to tell me. She confessed rather sheepishly that updating his status was symbolic of their now official marital union. It was their way of telling the world. They didn’t shout from rooftops, which honestly would only be heard by the neighbouring blocks, they simply changed a setting on Facebook.

Like many other people, I have received news of deaths, births, arrests, reunions, and unions of friends and acquaintances through Facebook. In a world without Facebook I wouldn’t know much of any of this. I am heartened by the idea of rediscovering long-lost friends, yet I am disheartened by yet another piece of technology taking over time that would otherwise be spent engaged in meaningful quality time with people. There is something unnerving about digital representations of ourselves, communicating with digital representations of people we live with, with whom we are close to and friends of friends of high school acquaintances from 10 years ago. Our digital selves share the same depth of personal information with both sides of the spectrum, though as I peruse the contents of my Facebook inbox, almost everyone with whom I message on a regular basis are actually the people I hang out in person with the most. My brother mocks the cyber-lives that we live in the land of Facebook, “Like giving a virtual rose. Virtual, who gives a shit about a virtual rose? Are you going to send a virtual kiss as a thank you for the virtual rose?”

I don’t feel as passionately as my brother does about virtual roses, but there are other new social pressures to consider: like once you’re Facebooking, it’s tough to stop Facebooking. Your invitations to events are now mostly coming through Facebook. Some of your old friends keep in touch but do so on Facebook. A measurable amount of regular e-mail activity has migrated to your Facebook inbox. You belong to an online community — one that may have only been available since the beginning of Facebook — that communicates primarily with Facebook. Whether you are a happy disciple of Facebook or a suspicious subscriber, you’re probably here to stay . . . at least for a little while. Even as I discussed my concerns with Facebook with someone we decided to add each other.

Just do everyone a favour: before you announce major events through your fictional self, make sure you announce them first through your real self.





Volume 95 Issue 19	The Official University of Manitoba Students' Newspaper Website	January 30, 2008

Home About Us Advertising Rates Contact Staff Current Issue PDF Employment Letters to the Editor Meet the Staff Online Archives Volunteer Online Classifieds St. Vincent's Academy Diaries	Font Size Respond Email Print-Friendly 21st-century wedding rings Facebook up in my face Jacinthe Blab, Volunteer Staff It all began like any other normal day. I was at my computer and opened my e-mail account. As per usual, numerous Facebook.com notifications greeted me. I clicked on a message from my brother. In the few moments before the page loaded I asked myself for the thousandth time since I signed up for Facebook: why had I not cancelled my account yet? I’m either annoyed with or mistrustful of nearly every aspect of this networking tool. My brother’s message carried an undeniable aggressive tone. The gist: he had found out that my sister was engaged through my sister’s boyfriend’s Facebook profile. Her boyfriend’s “relationship status” had been updated from “in a relationship with” to “engaged.” Verifying for myself, in the hopes that my dear brother wrote me in a confused state of inebriation, I found it to be true — I learned of my sister’s pending marriage through a rather faceless method of interaction. I felt betrayed. I was irate. I complained and soap-boxed to everyone in proximity about the social communication breakdown that is being facilitated by impersonal technologies. Unfortunately for you reader types, my continuous indignant cries landed me in the position of writing an article, presumably an article with one or more of the following: a point, a moral, a start, and an end. No such article on my behalf exists at the time of print. Since taking on this article, I have spoken with a number of friends and most notably, my sister. What felt like fervent opinions and intelligent arguments yesterday have dissolved into a murky pool (not unlike melted chocolate ice cream) of confused sentence fragments. My sister was extremely apologetic. She didn’t count on me seeing her partner’s post before she had a chance to tell me. She confessed rather sheepishly that updating his status was symbolic of their now official marital union. It was their way of telling the world. They didn’t shout from rooftops, which honestly would only be heard by the neighbouring blocks, they simply changed a setting on Facebook. Like many other people, I have received news of deaths, births, arrests, reunions, and unions of friends and acquaintances through Facebook. In a world without Facebook I wouldn’t know much of any of this. I am heartened by the idea of rediscovering long-lost friends, yet I am disheartened by yet another piece of technology taking over time that would otherwise be spent engaged in meaningful quality time with people. There is something unnerving about digital representations of ourselves, communicating with digital representations of people we live with, with whom we are close to and friends of friends of high school acquaintances from 10 years ago. Our digital selves share the same depth of personal information with both sides of the spectrum, though as I peruse the contents of my Facebook inbox, almost everyone with whom I message on a regular basis are actually the people I hang out in person with the most. My brother mocks the cyber-lives that we live in the land of Facebook, “Like giving a virtual rose. Virtual, who gives a shit about a virtual rose? Are you going to send a virtual kiss as a thank you for the virtual rose?” I don’t feel as passionately as my brother does about virtual roses, but there are other new social pressures to consider: like once you’re Facebooking, it’s tough to stop Facebooking. Your invitations to events are now mostly coming through Facebook. Some of your old friends keep in touch but do so on Facebook. A measurable amount of regular e-mail activity has migrated to your Facebook inbox. You belong to an online community — one that may have only been available since the beginning of Facebook — that communicates primarily with Facebook. Whether you are a happy disciple of Facebook or a suspicious subscriber, you’re probably here to stay . . . at least for a little while. Even as I discussed my concerns with Facebook with someone we decided to add each other. Just do everyone a favour: before you announce major events through your fictional self, make sure you announce them first through your real self.


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