The Derelict Profile

In the dawn of Facebook, during the college years, things were simple.  In it's infancy, Facebook's interface was uninvolved.  You had a profile.  You had the ability to message.  You could poke bitches.  Simple as that...

...but the people demanded more.

Facebook coders added walls and photos and groups and clubs and events and apps and games and links and instant messenger and locations and notes and activity logs and notifications and timelines and cover photos.  The project had snowballed.  Soon the Facebook was a jumbled concoction of code written by out of control dreamers hell-bent on building the perfect, all-encompassing social network.

The complexity was daunting.  I lost interest.

I left Facebook in search of simpler times.  Simpler social media.  Twitter.  Instagram. Foursquare.  I was hooked on the simplicity of the Facebook-lites.  Their inequality in content was the very reason I was drawn to them, and what little time I had devoted to Facebook was now given to the uncomplicated social networks.

Now my Facebook is floating in the social media abyss.  The profile is a ghost ship with no crew to man her.  Passers by, other profiles in the social media seas, hail the doomed vessel but receive echoes and silence in return.

So why not blast the ghost ship into social network smithereens?  Why not get rid of the Facebook?  What good does it do me?  What purpose does it serve?

Well I'm glad I asked myself these rhetorical questions...

Pictures. At current there 1,104 photos of me on Facebook.  Shit.  Scratch that.  It just jumped to 1,113 while writing this post.  See?  I can't even stop the photos from rollin' in.  It's amounted to a shit ton of photos.  Some might say a fuck ton.

A super majority, including the photos just posted, were added by trigger happy friends, and I couldn't be more grateful.  These visual records of the past take me back to events in my life, for better or for worse, that define me.  Every time I peer into the collection, I run across a forgotten moment bringing back a rush of emotion, and it's an enjoyable part of the Facebook experience.

Stalking.  I am a lion on the prowl and your life is my prey.  I'll dig through your photos, your wall and your friends list in search of the superficial nitty gritty.  Something piqued my curiosity.  We bumped in to one another.  Someone mentioned your name.  I accidentally drunk dialed you.  Whatever it was got me curious to see what you're doing, where you're doing it, and who you're doing it with.  The network spurs cyber stalking, and I cherish that creepy aspect of Facebook.

Vanity. I'm not ashamed to admit I keep Facebook around to rub it in the faces of friends that I'm leading an awesome life. I'm the motha fuckin' boss, and I'm living the life you wish you were leading, and if you can't handle that, then that's exactly why I post on Facebook.

Just kidding.

I don't really do that...but only because I never post on Facebook.  Besides there's no need to post when all those pics can do the talking.  If photos are worth 1,000 words, then by my math, I have 1,113,000 words already on Facebook.  I'm owning the Facebook pissing contest, and I appreciate that social network shit show.

My Facebook profile is adrift, lost and alone with no captain to give it direction.  And I'm OK with that.  I'm using that piece of social media how I want to use it; to retain memories, to stalk, to promote myself.  I'm not obsessed and constantly perusing.  I'm not zoned out and glued to a screen.  I'm not caught up in the online drama.  

The Facebook lost me when it ballooned into a social network that demanded upkeep.  Now the precious minutes budgeted for social media go to the well-deserving, simple outlets, because the instant Facebook felt like a chore, the honeymoon was over.

I may be the Amish curmudgeon of social media, but I'm happy, so please forgive my derelict profile.

xoxo,
ShavedGolf