Two friends hike through a sweeping desert-like landscape. They stop to stare out at the sunset. “It’s so beautiful,” one of them muses, “and yet all I can think of is how this’ll make for a great blog post.” This scene is from an online comic I saw recently. It’s humorous because it’s relatable: I’ll admit that while doing something, I’ve caught myself composing a Facebook status about it in my head. Which is both weird and symbolic of the rise of a new perspective on lived experience. Thanks to social media, we are becoming observers of our own lives.
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If you go out one night and don’t take any photographs, does it matter that you went out? Nights out are successful if they yield flattering Facebook pictures; the Holy Grail of a night out is a profile-picture-worthy photograph. Now the goal of social activity is not just to have fun but to look like you are, while collecting the photographic and anecdotal evidence to prove it.
We’re result-oriented and communication-addicted. We worship at the altar of multitasking and time management in an attempt not to “waste” time, and we feel compelled to document everything, to have something to show for each minute of the day. We want proof of our industriousness: We want the blog posts, status updates and photos that prove we are going places, doing things, having fun.
But constantly submitting the minutiae of our lives to others’ scrutiny makes it harder for us to live in the moment. I’ve always thought that the family member or friend who always retreats behind a camera to “capture the moment” risks missing the moment himself. I love remembering moments through photographs, but with the profusion of modern technology, documenting, editorializing and narrating begin to take precedence over living. Our experiences are supposed to inform our status updates, Tweets, blog posts and so on, not the other way around.
We all roll our eyes at that Facebook friend who throws up every detail of her life on your news feed. No, you don’t want to know what she ate for breakfast, is listening to right now or is doing tonight. We may be on display, but we put ourselves there, and so does everyone else. No one is looking at you nearly as closely as you’re looking at yourself. I have to remind myself of this, and to remember not to let outward show become more important than inner life. You can’t photograph well-being or quantify peace of mind. Some experiences aren’t meant to be shared.
Weinberg sophomore Hayley MacMillen can be reached at [email protected]
