Everyone hates on Facebook, but they secretly love it. Allow me to describe the different types of Facebook users.
First, there's the avowed Facebook user who regularly updates her status because she feels the internet needs to know how she, as an individual, spends her days on Earth. She posts pictures of her friends and herself, dropping in the occasional self-portrait (her left arm fully extended but amputated at the elbow where the picture frame takes precedence). She tags herself in other people's pictures and changes her default to a picture of her cat when she's bored of looking at herself in her default photo. She wants the virtual world to know she exists so she keeps her facebook active.
The second type of Facebook user is just "too cool to care" about Facebook, but you know s/he loves it anyway. This user "neglects" to fill out their information section, or if s/he does, it's only sparsely completed. This gives the illusion that this user has "better things to do" than just sit around on Facebook. Instead, s/he prefers more solitary activities that engage the mind or that fondle the artistic soul because Facebook, of course, is only entertaining to the pants-dropping simpletons of society. Many times, this user spends his/her time "saving the world" by wearing t-shirts with the recycle symbol on them because each t-shirt singlehandedly delays "global warming" by approximately 3.5 years. Nevermind the carcinogens that the factory in India produced from making the recycle shirt in the first place. Also, because this user is a "secret" Facebook lover, s/he will check his/her Facebook nearly everyday, but will make it appear as if s/he does not ever check it. S/he will delete any recent activity and will be selective when responding to wall posts. After all, it's cooler to receive comments on one's Facebook then to give them out.
Of course, there are both more and less extreme variations on these two types of Facebook users but the common thread is their love of Facebook (whether it is secret or not). I mean, Facebook has it's advantages: You can witness the burgeoning beer bellies of your "friends" from high school, peep in on the wedding that you weren't invited to, assert yourself as a fan of croquet without even having to know how to play the game, and if not for any other reason, you can keep in
touch with people you never have the chance to see.
However, don't let my sarcasm lead you to beleive that I hate Facebook. That would go against the logic of this post anyway because nobody
really hates
Facebook. I fall under the category of the first user. In fact, you might guess who the antecedent of "her" is after re-reading the description.
How has Facebook changed my life? I now dress better because I know the photos taken of me will most likely end up on the internet. A few days following the event I am poised to de-tag any unflattering ones. I no longer have to call people to invite them places (though text messaging contributes to my avoiding live human chatting as well) because most people now check their Facebooks more than they check their voice mails. I hate the telephone. Always have. Thanks to Facebook, I can dodge that bullet.
But Facebook really helped me one day. I mean truly. My plane was taxiing into the O'hare airport in Chicago when I turned on my Blackberry and saw a text from my friend saying that our friend Candice, who neither of us has seen in 10 years but who we've both known since first grade, had died. The friend that texted me told me that she found out from Facebook that Candice was dead. Last time I heard from Candice was a month earlier when she told me that she had had a lung transplant and her body was rejecting the lung. There was nothing I could do, she told me. I assumed she was just going to fight through her sickness as she had done her entire life, as Candice lived with a severe case of Cystic Fibrosis. Being in and out of the hospital was routine for her.
After hearing the news that day on the plane, I logged onto Candice's Facebook from my Blackberry and there lay the string of wall posts from her friends and family wishing her well. The page was a virtual memorial. Because I had found out that Candice had died about a month after it happened, I missed the funeral. I had missed the chance to say goodbye to my childhood friend that used to braid my hair for me before I learned to manage it myself. I looked on her Facebook pictures and saw her with her friends that I didn't know, but at least I could see her. I could look in on a segment of her life and remember her as she might have wanted me to remember her. After all, Candice created her Facebook page, perhaps as a way to document her existence. Was Candice some variant of the first type of Facebook user? I don't know. Candice was not so easily typed. All that matters now is that she existed. Facebook gave a voice to someone who might not have been heard.
