Greener on the Other Side


Facebook- In Life and Death.
April 17, 2009, 3:50 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

First of all, I’d like to apologize for the long interval since my last post. I debated writing about myself personally on this blog, but as an advocate of social media I felt on this post I should walk the walk and bear all. So, for this installment of greener on the other side, the environment won’t have anything to do with it. Instead, I’ll focus on another aspect of my career, the aforementioned social media and how it recently played a role in my personal life.

In 2006, after 20 years of being a passive Internet user I decided to step up my online game. My brother was carving out a name for himself in the tech space, building off a passion for technology that dated back to his childhood. Under his guidance, I started to pay attention to the revolution. I began reading Wired, TechCrunch and Digg, keeping up with the Internet the way I always followed music, sports and politics. Two years earlier in 2004, Facebook flooded the lives of every college student in the country. It was a constant topic of discussion at bars, dinners and drunken Tuesday afternoons that defined college. We could feel it affecting our lives. Facebook changed the way our generation used the Internet. It was changing dating, creating an additional layer to the already hilarious process of college courtship. It even got my fraternity suspended for a semester. For better or worse, everything that happened in real life, also happened on Facebook. But even with all its influence Facebook never was and still isn’t “cool.” At least not in the way that this was cool, or these guys were cool. Ask most people aged 18-34, “ do you love facebook?” The majority will say no. They will say it’s a great way to keep in touch with friends. I like the pictures. It’s useful. But Zuckerberg’s romantic idea that people feel empowered by Facebook to express their true identity simply isn’t true for the average user. The average Facebook user is a passive one, just like I was pre 2006. They don’t care about web 2.0, the lack of online revenue streams or what their twitter ratio is. For them, the Internet is functional; Google, email, AIM, Facebook, with forays into news sites that cover specific interests, I.E. espn.com, perezhilton.com, nytimes.com. Pre 2006 I was skeptical of the social media tools my brother introduced to me years prior to their widespread adoption. I refused to believe twitter would become a useful tool or that anyone like me would use it. Now it’s my job to use it. So whether or not you care about the Internet doesn’t matter. Not caring about what’s happening online is like not caring about what happens in politics. You can try to ignore it, but one way or another it’s going to affect your life. And while I’ve been studying, using and perfecting the social media, particularly its effectiveness within business, it was very recently that I realized the true depth of its presence in our lives.

On April 4th I lost a wonderful friend of mine, Berit, to a tragic accident. Shortly after learning of her passing I went to her Facebook profile and scrolled through the photos one by one. I was relieved they were there. I voyeuristically watched her life as the pictures went by. I saw her laughing, traveling and living. She was happy. I even got to see myself a few times within her Facebook documentary. As the days passed people began to write on Berit’s wall. Her profile was becoming a memorial. Her sisters even posted information about funeral services. I wasn’t surprised. I had seen this happen before. Twice while I was in college I lost close friends. Each time their Facebook pages were used and still are, as a platform for collective mourning. When I had seen Facebook profiles memorialized in the past, it was in my passive Internet phase. It didn’t register into any greater context. But this time, I noticed the significance. Not only is Facebook an extension of our lives, but also our deaths. At first I felt hesitant about the role Facebook was playing in Berits passing. Somehow it seemed inappropriate. Were we really going to allow Facebook to be apart of this moment? My initial reaction was a mere amplified version of the gut reaction people have to social media all the time. Do I really want everything broadcasted? Do I want people to know where I am, what I am doing and what I am thinking? In this case, posting on Berit’s wall has been helping people express their feelings, deal with the grief and say goodbye. Sure, other people can read it, but I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing. I realized that while I received the news from a dear friend, many people probably found out from Facebook directly. It’s how news travels within our generation. A few summers ago when I was traveling through Europe, cut off from my real life, I received an urgent message via Facebook. The message led me to call home and learn of my friend Garrets death. My discomfort with Facebook playing any kind of role in Berit’s passing quickly dissolved as I realized I still looked at Garrets Facebook profile and that I would do the same with hers. They still show up on your notifications when it’s their birthday. Their face still pops up in the 6 thumbnail photos of your friends. And when they do, you click it. It should be noted that because my friendship with Berit dates far back before the days of Facebook I also looked at pictures on a webshots.com account. Blast from the past both in content and technology.

Unfortunately, I’m beginning to recognize the rhythm of grief I experience when I lose someone close to me. It doesn’t move through stages exactly like they say it should. Different aspects of the 7 stages of grief come in and out simultaneously. For the most part, I’m feeling a mix of reflection and loneliness. Right now, I really miss my friend. I’m beginning to accept she is gone, and I feel an overwhelming sadness for the very simple fact that I won’t get to hang out with her anymore. Missing your friend doesn’t really stop. You keep missing them forever. As time goes on you aren’t as traditionally sad as you were in the beginning, you just want to see your buddy because you know they would like this beach, or this song, or this baseball game or that they would know how to appreciate a given moment. Nothing can fix that. But for the same reason people have had gravestones, tombs and monuments for millenniums, I think it’s nice we have Facebook. More intimate then a few sentences that try to capture the beauty of someone you loved, a Facebook profile is an in depth documentation of their recent life. It goes with you everywhere and it’s at your finger tips 24/7. Gary Vanerychuck of Wine Library TV has talked about this on a few occasions. In the age of the Internet, we will leave behind a tremendous amount of content for our descendents. Our online contributions will be integral in constructing the foundation of our lineage. Imagine if you could read your grandfathers streaming thoughts after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Or, what if you could peruse one of your parent’s Facebook albums entitled, “Woodstock.” In the greater scheme of things it’s a small consolation, the same way a gravestone doesn’t make losing a loved one any easier. But for whatever reason, we as human beings are the sentimental sort. When someone is gone we like to have a symbol of their life here on earth. It helps us remember and it gives us a place to visit when we miss them. No Facebook profile, gravestone, or anything for that matter, could ever truly depict Berit as the dynamic, amorous, intelligent, effervescent person she was. But they can help us to crystallize her life’s narrative. In the end it seems we really can’t escape Facebook’s presence in life or death, but at least for now, I think that’s okay.

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3 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Absolutely nailed it. Great post.

Comment by Ryan Lipps

I guess in a way we become immortalized on the internet…frozen at a point in our lives…interesting post

Comment by Ashley Reed

Nice job Adam. As a graduate with a BA in communication I found your post very intriguing. I admire your respects paid towards Berit as well. I look forward to reading more from you.

Comment by Devin McInerney




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