Facebook Day 2

I am attempting to get on Facebook as infrequently as I can, in hope that I won't become a slave to it.

Yesterday, I saw my Facebook activity through my email throughout the day, learning that people had accepted my friend requests or written on my wall. Using email notification was a smart move by Facebook, because it brings to my attention every interaction that occurs, thus making me want to get online to respond. Very sneaky, FB.

Here's the deal. I consider getting on Facebook on my phone lesser than getting on Facebook on a computer. I don't know why. Maybe it's because the screen is smaller and the format is different, thus making it inferior to the traditional, formal layout of computer layout Facebook. I prefer dealing with Facebook on a computer because it seems easier to navigate than on a phone, where you have to touch everything with your finger (which sometimes is difficult) and zoom in all the time. Computers are the best way to interact with Facebook.

I accepted some friend requests, observed what people had written on my wall, responded to messages people sent me (which I find to be most intimate and personal interaction on Facebook) and half-heartedly scanned through photos of several people. I then realized that I hadn't ever updated my status, and I started to stress. I find status updates to be taxing, because I used to put up quotes that made me seem intellectual and artistic, but the trick was to not to post quotes that made me seem too intellectual and artistic, a line that is difficult to walk. Now, in an attempt to avoid that excessive effort, I've decided only to post statuses that provide relevant, interesting, or important information. I don't want to update people with my every thought, because most of my thoughts are immature, incomplete, and illogical. Why would I want to share that with everybody? That's just asking for trouble.

My feelings toward Facebook are still positive. Maybe I had bad feelings about Facebook because I was angry that I enslaved myself to it, and I transfered the hatred of my actions to the neutral entity to which I had bonded myself. If I can keep from depending on Facebook, maybe I won't see it as a bad thing anymore.

Beat Generation Response (for Core)

Learning about the Beat generation is interesting to me, because the more I learn, the more I think I am a reincarnation of that generation. By that I mean I think my personality, my struggles, my teenage angst that grows from an unknown source, all that correlate with those who grew up with the threat of the atom bomb, who watched their friends get drafted to Vietnam, and saw violence in their streets. They observed the previous generation promising life and success and modesty and censorship as the remedies for happiness. They knew they could not trust those promises, because those promises produced the senseless violence that pervaded their lives. They were without role models, without instruction about how to live, without a leader to show them the way home. So they set out on a journey, with On The Road as their Bible and Bob Dylan as their voice, that they hoped would end at a purpose for their lives, a purpose that was deep and worthy and emotional and real.

I think my generation is a sedated version of the Beat generation. My generation has been raised in a world where technology is prevalent, where instant communication and information and validation can be found at the tips of a keyboard. We don't know any other world, just like the beats didn't know a world without wars and violence. However, I don't think we care enough to search for another way. Yes, we hate the emptiness that barges in when we turn off the music and sit in silence, but we can always turn the music back on. We hate the loneliness we feel whenever we are alone, but we can always get online and simulate conversations and emotions and intimacy through social networking institutions. The beat generation turned to sex and drugs (among other things) in search of identity and direction--we don't turn anywhere, because we don't have to realize that we have no direction. We don't have to lie awake at night, wondering about this feeling of heaviness that doesn't go away--we don't have to wonder because, instead, we can go online and find something to divert our attention. Moments that usually define peoples' courses of action, moments that stand out in one's memory years later, have been stolen by the flickering of a television screen.

Our generation can learn from the Beat generation, because we are in a similar predicament. We have been handed a lifestyle that is doing more harm than good. And once we stir from our sleep, we're going to need some direction. Hopefully we can learn from their mistakes.

Facebook Day 1 contd.

This is not good. I thought I would be able to restrain myself from Facebook and limit myself to getting on it once a day. This was not the case. Not even 2 hours after I erected my profile and interacted with some people on it, I checked it again. I received heartwarming welcomes to Facebook from friends, which was positive and reaffirming. I'm going to give myself some lee-way in the first few days. It's a new toy, my excitement will die down. Hopefully.

Facebook and Day 1: Optimism

I am starting an experiment with Facebook.

Recently it has occurred to me how prevalent social networking is in filmmaking. Who knows who got connected by this guy who knew her once at a party...

Personally, I tend to shy away from social networking, because I don't like relationships being based on a person we both know. It seems like a mutual bond, and it is, but it's a weak bond. Nevertheless, some would cry that that is how you make it in the real world, or something to that extend. I understand, and I have now started my compliance.

I decided to get a Facebook account, and I'm going to use it as an experiment. I will chronicle my Facebook interactions for the first 30 days. If I find that after 30 days my life was worse than when I started, I will get rid of it.

Here's my reasoning-I've not had a Facebook profile for over a year and a half. I've got to see life without the immediate interaction, without the constant updates, and without the missed opportunities that it brings. I think I can responsibly take an adventure into the jungle of Facebook and keep my head on my shoulders, avoiding trivial banter and worthless postings while discovering thought-worthy ideas and concepts and engaging in (hopefully) productive social interaction. I don't know how it will go. Let's find out.

........

Day 1

I created a Facebook account with ease. Props to Zuckerburg for making the process easy enough for anyone to create one (I, along with millions of others probably, would have had second-thoughts if the process were difficult). I added my favorite movies, music, TV shows, and books, a process that actually made me sad because I had a difficult time coming up with favorite books, revealing that I don't actually read that much. Need to get on that.

I tried to find my friend Cari to add her as my first friend, but I couldn't find her. I thought she had an account. "Oh well," I thought. "I'll find her through someone else" (that should be a slogan for Facebook). I searched for several friends without luck. Finally I found my friend Jake and added him. Suddenly, I had found a portal into my friends' world. I found friend after friend and easily added them with friend requests. I hesitated asking several people to be my "friend," because I didn't want them to see me with 5 friends and think I was a loser. I realize that train of thought is self-absorbed and shallow. That's how I think most of the time. It's constraining and frustrating, but I continue on with it for some reason.

I'm going to let it lie for right now. I can't decide if I want to make a rule for myself that I can only get on once a day. I have done that more or less by choosing to make myself blog about each Facebook encounter I have, so that should be fine.

My feelings towards Facebook (as of right now) are friendly. I see the benefit of having a profile through the connections I can make with my friends, with whom I have previously had no contact. But will the connections I'm going to make with my friends be genuine? Will we actually be communicating our true thoughts, ideas, and emotions, or will we merely be sending and receiving cardboard cutouts of ourselves; rigid, fake, static images of either who we are or who we want others to think we are. I don't know.

I wonder if I'll be able to refrain from posting pretentious, self-involved statuses about On The Road or all the films I watch that others consider elitist. Let's hope so.

Pessimist Article

I wrote this for our school newspaper's April Fool's Day edition. I don't know if it will get published or not. We'll have to wait and see.

Next fall, ACU students will find their daily commute to classes to be a little smoother. ACU plans to up its already high bar and equip every incoming freshman with a Segway, a decision that was almost easy, said President Schubert. "With the iPhone initiative, not only have we successfully condensed the majority of students to a single electronic demographic, we have also taken students' social relationships and made them virtual, eliminating the need for face-to-face interaction," Schubert said excitedly Monday. "This generation lives more in the virtual world than in the real one. With that in mind, we decided to give every incoming freshman a Segway, thus eliminating the fading necessity of experiencing the world through walking."
Others have agreed that walking is becoming obsolete in this technological world. "No one enjoys walking anymore," comments Mabee janitor Rick Steinfeld. "It's boring and it takes forever. Sometimes I just take off in a dead sprint because it makes the trip shorter." Faculty and students agree that walking is a tired tradition that is becoming outdated in today's world. "I stay at home so much because I'd rather watch TV than walk," says hermit and ACU drop-out Jesse Blacksmith. "If ACU had given us Segways, I probably would have gone to class more and not failed my classes."
However, not everyone is on board with the idea. Freshman Adam Simpson started a group on campus that doesn't wear shoes to voice their disagreement. Group members, deemed ‘Hobos’ by dissenting observers, can be seen walking across campus barefoot with smug smiles on their faces. "The sixties had sit-ins and boycotts," Simpson commented Tuesday evening, "an effective tool to communicate a point. Today, we have shoe-offs. Hopefully the administration will see that Segways are as detrimental to human flourishing as segregation."
Despite minor backlash, ACU is excited about next year. “The goal with all our initiatives are to keep our students on the forefront of emerging technology,” said Dr. Jeanine Varner, ACU Provost. “In recent years, the necessity for walking has obviously deteriorated. As educators, we must equip our students with the knowledge and the power to change this changing world. With the Segway initiative, we are helping our students change the world not on two feet, but on two wheels, which happen to be dynamically stabilized and electrically propelled.”

Relaxed Musings of an Anxious Existence

I often experience a feeling of overwhelming anxiety that stems from my fear of underachieving. Since I was young, I have been told countless times from parents, adults, random strangers at church, that I would achieve great things in my life. Sometimes it was in the context of spirituality, but most often it was vaguely intended as vocational prophecy. Coupled with my slightly above average talent in numerous areas (yes, that is narcissistic, I realize that), I've come to live with this smug knowledge, stored in the back of my mind, that I will do something in my life, that I will achieve something worthy of pride, for both myself and others who know me. That knowledge surfaces anytime I do something noteworthy, as if I am one step closer to fulfilling the awesomeness that is to come.

As of lately, however, I've come to strain under that burden. I make films that are good for people my age who are close in proximity to me. I have no idea what films are being made by freshman at NYU or USC, but I assume they are better than the ones I have made. But around here, I make above average films. I made a film for ACU's Filmfest, a film festival for students, and people were astounded that I made such a good film "as a freshman," assuming that I would take that as a complement. I don't. I don't want the value of my work to be dependent on my age. Orsen Wells made "Citizen Kane," arguably the greatest film of all time, when he was 25. Secretly, I have a desire to make a better film than "Citizen Kane" by the time I'm 25. It's an unrealistic, naive goal to have, but hey, I'm young (right?), I can think like that.

I beat myself up because I'm not constantly making films. I think I should be making them all the time, improving my style and skills daily so that I will be making masterpieces by age 30. Truthfully, I have the fear that, over the course of my life, I will never make a good film, that I will never find genuine success in creating a piece of art. I just want to make something from which people can discover truth about life, about humanity, about relationships. I want people to study my films like I study films. I want to be regarded as an artist, as an enduring master of my field.

In the end, I think I'm ultimately searching for immortality. I'm looking to live on, even after I'm dead. I think everyone does this. It's not uncommon. I think everyone in the world is searching for a way to outlast the Earth, outlast life and other people and the problems that tie us down to this confused, confusing existence. This is the internal conflict of the human soul-we are not original or noteworthy in any way, but we want to be.

Racism Response

Throughout American history, whites refused to acknowledge the humanity of blacks. Whites protected their social superiority through physical and psychological abuse of blacks. I think of the whole situation as if it were a large canyon, black Americans in the valley, and for the majority of American history, whites on the top rim. Whites kept blacks down in the valley, suppressed and unaware of life outside the canyon walls, merely submitting to the will and work of those above. Whites developed a superiority complex, no doubt about it. However, all of a sudden, the blacks realized that they did not have to stay in the valley. They began to climb to treacherous walls of the canyon, with each step they found themselves closer to the wide, beautiful, fertile plains of respect and common decency.
However, whites would not watch their animals become their equals quietly. Whites fought to keep the status quo, pushing mountainous boulders onto the heads of the ascending blacks, cheering when it crushes a skull and laughing as bodies tumble back into the void of submission.
During the time of Malcolm X's Harvard speech and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Letter from Birmingham Jail, one can see that blacks had just about reached the top of the canyon. On one side are the blacks, exhausted from the climb but no where near giving up now; on the other side are whites, aghast at the progress of their former slaves; in the middle lies emptiness, space, nothingness. There is no bridge connecting the two sides. The only communication found between the two sides is yelling, people screaming from full lungs, spit flying from their pointed mouths, neither side able to listen to what the other is saying.
Dr. King said that "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." He knew about the lack of respect that whites showed to blacks because he had seen it his whole life. Malcolm X had seen evil through the eyes of a victim, and his mission was to hold a mirror up to the faces of the oppressors. The blacks were toeing the edge of the cliff, trying any way they could to build something to bridge the gap.
Today racism is far from over. The canyon still exists, although many have tried to say it no longer does. The best solution is to continue supporting the building of bridges over the canyon, connecting one side to another. But it is important that it is a bridge. Concrete will not do. We cannot fill up the canyon and act like it never existed--that would be just as terrible as when blacks were still down in it. We need to build bridges because it not only creates a pathway between the two camps, but it also recognizes the existence of a troubled past and reminds us often from where we have come.