(UPDATE: More on Social Networking, a series of postings at
Hypercompendia/Social Networking)
We've embraced the wonders of the internet, the amazing opportunities it offers and the world it opens up to every individual with computer access. We've come a long way from piling into the wagon to drive fifty miles to Grandma's for a weekend visit. The postal service has improved since they've been able to use mailtrucks and airplanes instead of horses and steamships. The telephone added the sense of hearing though the visual suffered for it. And now the web along with weblogs and twitter and Facebook and a dozen different social networking services limits the dark corners to hide in.
But even the weblog is outdated, I've heard, and it's being suggested that we "pull the plug on blogs":
The time it takes to craft sharp, witty blog prose is better spent expressing yourself on Flickr, Facebook, or Twitter.
If you quit now, you're in good company. Notorious chatterbox Jason Calacanis made millions from his Weblogs network. But he flat-out retired
his own blog in July. "Blogging is simply too big, too impersonal, and
lacks the intimacy that drew me to it," he wrote in his final post.
Now I've likely just hurt someone's feelings by being less than enthusiastic about joining diigo after sending an email with data to share. I've apologized, and I do understand the use of diigo (or I'm trying to) as a tool for sharing, but it seems that while I've breached a certain code of camaraderie in wanting to pass information to an individual rather than splatter it on a website, it does take away even that little smidgen of a personal touch that email manages to cling to.
I'll admit that I'm eternally grateful to the system, and likely one of the very same type of person I'm here to complain about. "I'm a writer, I'll send you an email," I say, often staving off the phone conversation that once was an important part of my life. Nowadays, there are only a few friends I talk to via telephone–and that's actual voice-talking, not text messaging. Once email and weblogs were invented, I figured I'd found my niche. I've also dabbled in Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, Plurk, and now diigo.
But there're some drawbacks to the social networking via the web. It's not something I've done a study on, but I've been getting the general feeling of a lack of politeness in both the real world and the semi-real world of the internet. For example, with job postings and responses done via websites, there are hundreds competing for the same job, so I do understand that response from a prospective employer would be more difficult, but these days, an applicant never knows if he's being considered or got dumped within minutes. Because it's so easy to avoid responding, this same thing is happening on weblogs, and in the social networking groups. Just for shits, I've written some outrageous things on twitter or on a blog (and some deeper, more personal sharings) and received absolutely no conversation. You know folks have read it, and yet there's no human reaction as a sign of empathy or surprise or whatever. While you've made some friends via these means, the friends that you might ordinarily expect to talk with in person (if they read your web communications at all), have that option of ignoring what they read.
How would this play out in person? Would they silently turn around and walk away? See, social networking on the internet isn't really very social when you look at it that way. Here's another viewpoint, from Don Tennant at ComputerWorld, referring to another article by Kip Layton, a school administrator in a tiny town in Alaska regarding email and its effect on handwriing. Don gives us his feelings about snail mail when his son's computer is down:
People over 35 generally have lovely handwriting. The 25-to-35 age
group has decent handwriting. And the under-25 crowd is a legibility
laughingstock. It's all because of computers. And it's kind of a shame.
(…) I clearly could have written the letters on my computer and printed
them out, but I didn't. I suppose the reason is that I can remember as
a kid getting letters from my mom and dad and noticing their different
styles of handwriting and appreciating that unique personal expression.
I wanted my son to see that same expressiveness and individuality and
personality in my correspondence with him, so I've been writing my
letters to him longhand.
Hadn't thought of that; I treasure recipes, notes, cards, little papers where the writing is clearly that of my mother, or my father, or someone else dear to me. It's not as personal as physical presence, but it's sure a step above the cold type of an email.
Now maybe I'm just more bothered by this than most folk, as I'm more the type that have a precious few close friends and another layer of well, friends, and a lot of acquaintances so I'm not trying to expand either my presence or my popularity. But I see more than just a separate society online. Frankly, I see the same avoidance of connection, the rudeness, the same distancing that expands a circle of friends to global yet moves those one would be in contact with via phone or in person to that same level, and that same ease of slipping away that the internet allows creeping into the realities of face to face living. It need not be that way, but there's a couple of generations now that have been brought up in this new world of great possibility and possible dehumanization of society. And some of us, the ones who notice these things, won't be here to remember them.
Okay, you get one shot of me here because I’m rather proud of having given myself a fairly decent haircut, almost like my mother used to do but without the high layered back beyond a feeble inch or so. I’ve always cut my own hair (or got my mother to do it) but to get the back layered was near impossible for the old “Sassoon” style that’s always been my favorite. One time I cut the top and sides real short and chickened out and ended up with the back real long. I’ve never tried the Sassoon again until now. And ‘now’ not only coincides with my shorter ‘do’ for winter (in summer it needs to be long enough to put up) but with the loss of my mother’s wedding ring which I’ve worn for four years now.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology