He Ain't Heavy, He's In My Friends List
Dec. 23rd, 2008 07:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfield"Man strives for honor, glory, fame
That all the world should know his name
Amasses wealth by brain and hand
Becomes a power in the land
But as he nears the end of life
And looks back o’er the years of strife
He finds that happiness depends
On none of these, but love of friends."
- Unknown
As you know, I am currently making the transition from faceless to Facebook. Many Facebook customs, while practically reflexive to longtime users, are entirely novel to me.
In some ways I imagine it is like being a foreign exchange student -- you pick things up gradually by watching other people, say just enough so that you don't look stupid, and when in doubt, plead ignorance. Facebook itself is already like an awkward high-school reunion, with all sorts of voyeurism and judging going on. Being a late arrival just adds another layer of apprehension.
Already I am getting the hang of it. I've uploaded a profile picture, won my first game of Faceboook Scrabble and collected a relatively small stable of followers.
It's an interesting thing about those followers that they seem to come in distinct waves.
For the first day or so, there was a rush of "friend requests" from my nearest and dearest friends and family, the elite relationship guard, the interpersonal first-round draft picks, as it were. The people who know me well, as described under Section 3B(1)(a) of these house rules.
For the next few days after that, I received requests from a handful of "second-order" friends. That is, people who are closely associated with the elite friends -- spouses, siblings, best buddies, etc. At this point in the experience, there is a very clear executive decision to be made: is my Facebook page going to be a come-one, come-all house party (not unlike this site here) or is it going to be an exclusive VIP lounge? Ultimately I chose to keep those doors open, not only because I want to be inclusive but because I don't have enough close friends to make a VIP lounge truly worthwhile; I might as well just call them on the phone.
For the week or so after that, the requests from friends-of-friends -- or what we might call "acquaintances" -- came dribbling in. These are the people that I know and socialize with solely in the context of my closest friends. These are the people you see at other folks' parties, weddings, funerals, etc. You may be able to carry on a perfectly nice conversation with these people, but there is no interpersonal history from which to draw when it dries up. I gladly accept these requests, because they seem like good friend prospects, and anyway they are no different relationship-wise from the spouse-and-sibling group.
Then there was the Out-of-the-Woodwork subset of individuals, the people that I haven't talked to in years -- long-lost classmates, former roommates, old friends who I thought were cool but then moved away and got married and had babies and apparently forgot that I existed, even after moving back to town, not calling or anything for like a year and a half before dropping a friend request right out of the blue. I accepted those people too, because if you're not going to stalk long-lost friends then what are you even doing on Facebook?
Finally there were the Others, the people that I can't really stand, only they don't know it. I choose to "ignore" those people. Unless they're reading this, in which case I probably just deleted them accidentally. Sorry! Better not try again!
The one thing I haven't done much at all is actually make friend requests myself. It goes back to the high school metaphor again, where it's like asking a girl to dance. Sure, it's low-risk/high-reward and in the grand scheme of things not at all important. But there is nevertheless a risk of serious ego damage. Or even worse, the possibility that someone will see a mere friend request as an overture to a real friendly relationship. (Again: if anyone wanted real relationships, they wouldn't be on Facebook.)
But what the hell. Before I leave for vacation, I'm going to go with a saturation-bomb strategy, friend-requesting a shitload of friends, acquaintances and out-of-the-woodworkers. If any of them choose to ignore me, then I'll probably forget about them anyway. That's what friends are for.
That all the world should know his name
Amasses wealth by brain and hand
Becomes a power in the land
But as he nears the end of life
And looks back o’er the years of strife
He finds that happiness depends
On none of these, but love of friends."
- Unknown
As you know, I am currently making the transition from faceless to Facebook. Many Facebook customs, while practically reflexive to longtime users, are entirely novel to me.
In some ways I imagine it is like being a foreign exchange student -- you pick things up gradually by watching other people, say just enough so that you don't look stupid, and when in doubt, plead ignorance. Facebook itself is already like an awkward high-school reunion, with all sorts of voyeurism and judging going on. Being a late arrival just adds another layer of apprehension.
Already I am getting the hang of it. I've uploaded a profile picture, won my first game of Faceboook Scrabble and collected a relatively small stable of followers.
It's an interesting thing about those followers that they seem to come in distinct waves.
For the first day or so, there was a rush of "friend requests" from my nearest and dearest friends and family, the elite relationship guard, the interpersonal first-round draft picks, as it were. The people who know me well, as described under Section 3B(1)(a) of these house rules.
For the next few days after that, I received requests from a handful of "second-order" friends. That is, people who are closely associated with the elite friends -- spouses, siblings, best buddies, etc. At this point in the experience, there is a very clear executive decision to be made: is my Facebook page going to be a come-one, come-all house party (not unlike this site here) or is it going to be an exclusive VIP lounge? Ultimately I chose to keep those doors open, not only because I want to be inclusive but because I don't have enough close friends to make a VIP lounge truly worthwhile; I might as well just call them on the phone.
For the week or so after that, the requests from friends-of-friends -- or what we might call "acquaintances" -- came dribbling in. These are the people that I know and socialize with solely in the context of my closest friends. These are the people you see at other folks' parties, weddings, funerals, etc. You may be able to carry on a perfectly nice conversation with these people, but there is no interpersonal history from which to draw when it dries up. I gladly accept these requests, because they seem like good friend prospects, and anyway they are no different relationship-wise from the spouse-and-sibling group.
Then there was the Out-of-the-Woodwork subset of individuals, the people that I haven't talked to in years -- long-lost classmates, former roommates, old friends who I thought were cool but then moved away and got married and had babies and apparently forgot that I existed, even after moving back to town, not calling or anything for like a year and a half before dropping a friend request right out of the blue. I accepted those people too, because if you're not going to stalk long-lost friends then what are you even doing on Facebook?
Finally there were the Others, the people that I can't really stand, only they don't know it. I choose to "ignore" those people. Unless they're reading this, in which case I probably just deleted them accidentally. Sorry! Better not try again!
The one thing I haven't done much at all is actually make friend requests myself. It goes back to the high school metaphor again, where it's like asking a girl to dance. Sure, it's low-risk/high-reward and in the grand scheme of things not at all important. But there is nevertheless a risk of serious ego damage. Or even worse, the possibility that someone will see a mere friend request as an overture to a real friendly relationship. (Again: if anyone wanted real relationships, they wouldn't be on Facebook.)
But what the hell. Before I leave for vacation, I'm going to go with a saturation-bomb strategy, friend-requesting a shitload of friends, acquaintances and out-of-the-woodworkers. If any of them choose to ignore me, then I'll probably forget about them anyway. That's what friends are for.
