Tag Archives: Facebook

The Book of Face: Regional Variations in Approach

Facebook. Blargh.

It’s not an actual book of course, but it seems that a lot of people I know consult it more than real books. After all, nearly everyone is connected to it—if Facebook was a country it would be the third most populous in the world. While I was away over the past year-ish in Vancouver, British Columbia, and Missoula, Montana, I noticed some distinct differences in the way people used Facebook.

In Vancouver, my MPub classmates mostly used Facebook as a procrastination tool from studying. When we had a paper due, classmates would post their word counts as they worked (3578/5000!) or an interesting article from Maclean’s they wanted to share. Photos appeared only occasionally, usually the morning after our post-presentation receptions. At these receptions the alcohol was freely flowing, supplied by our department, which resulted in just a handful of silly photos. Since leaving Vancouver in April, I’ve barely heard a peep from my classmates through the site. We all scattered around the world and started enjoying the summer rather than being chained to our desks. After all, there are real faces out there, and real books. I’ve had some heartening email exchanges, snail mail, phone calls, and in-person visits with my classmates, but relatively little Facebook interaction.

In Missoula, the organization I interned at (Adventure Cycling Association) has a large following on Facebook and other social media sites, but individuals I worked with didn’t seem to use the site much outside of work, and only occasionally there. In fact, they spent most of their weekends exploring the outdoors and connecting with their actual friends in person, rather than from the other side of a smartphone. My thoughtful friend Sarah explains:

One thing I really like about living in Missoula is that we seem to be a little behind in terms of electronic communication. Most people I know don’t have smartphones, and I’d say a fair percentage of my friends don’t have Facebook accounts. It doesn’t make them harder to get in touch with, and it doesn’t make the time we spend together any less important. It just means that when I need to get in touch with someone I actually call him or her, and when I visit with someone I spend more time engaging with her and less time documenting the experience so others can view it.

And home. In Portland, Facebook is a significant topic of conversation at nearly every single get-together I have been at since returning in late September. Friends may talk about what so-and-so is up to, because they read it on Facebook. Or about that simply hi-larious cat video that has been going around. A simple happy hour invitation can’t happen without the site being involved. Photos are regularly taken at get-togethers and instantly posted online. Chatter happens behind the scenes of who has RSVPed to what, sometimes gauging for people whether or not they should go to an event. Groups of people appear cliquish to others when they make in-jokes with each other on Facebook about some trip they took together, or how excited they are for a trip they’re about to take together. Occasionally, someone will call out the obnoxious behavior that the rest of us are doing our best to ignore. The site regularly plays a role in interpersonal dramas. Yes—we are all apparently in seventh grade.

This kind of makes me ill—it’s oversaturation of a single web site in everyday life. Like Kramer from Seinfeld, the site seems to be “a loathsome, offensive brute, yet I can’t look away.” The New York Times recently covered a hip new trend—eschewing Facebook. Sadly, I can’t manage to abandon ship, but now and again I daydream about how much better life would be without it. If you are interested in hearing stories of people who quit Facebook with much good cheer and related success, check out Elly Blue’s site, How I Quit FB.

(Photo courtesy of depone on Flickr.)


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Why I’m Quitting Farmville

It started out innocently enough.

In November, my friend “Mary” invited me over and showed me her current outlet for fun–the Facebook application Farmville. She needed just a few more neighbors to be able to expand her farm, she explained. I empathized and said I’d log in for her sake, but wouldn’t do much beyond that.

I was wrong.

Over the past three months, I have done the following:
• Left home, only to panic five minutes later as I realized I hadn’t harvested my raspberries and they would die before my return. (No, I did not go back.)
•  Left a delightfully warm bed for a freezing cold living room, to harvest my virtual soybeans.
• Experienced lengthy wrist pain, potentially from the repetitive motion of harvesting Farmville crops in a non-ergonomic way. (No, I’m not kidding.)
• Spent more time than I care to admit on Farmville, taking several breaks per day to check up on my or others’ farms.

This morning while reading a NY Times story about pre-teens being able to obtain actual credit through online games, I kept asking myself “Who would do such a thing? Who would even play these games?” Then I got to the mention of Farmville (10th paragraph), and my stomach sank.

Although I haven’t purchased anything, the truth remains that this game has become an addiction, making me just as sad as any teenybopper who would go to 7-11 to pay for a sack of monkey chow for her 21st century Tamagotchi.

The time I spend distracted by whether or not my crops are ready could be spent working on the New York Times Crossword, which expands my vocabulary and problem-solving skills. Or writing. Or simplifying. Or working on one of the many projects I otherwise seem to not have enough time for!

Farmville is barely even fun anymore–I used to find much amusement in the cacophony of barnyard animal sounds, but now I just mute my computer while I’m using the game. Ascending levels or developing crop mastery gets more difficult the further you go, deflating one’s motivation. The assumption is you’ll expand your farm size as often and early as possible–but what about those of us who prefer to keep a family farm rather than own an electronic version of a scary factory farm? (Eco-alert! This is the real-life product of such setup: an enormous dung pool that pollutes all nearby waterways! Funny how you never see that on Farmville, eh?)

Therefore, as soon as this blog post is posted, I am harvesting my last cranberries, scaring the crows away from my neighbors’ farms one more time, and then hanging up my overalls. I’ll miss “my cute little ass” (his name is Donkey-Hohtee)…but that’s about all.

See you on the other side!

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