How does one set the limits of one's community? Especially within a medium over which one has only the slightest token control?
I have ridden the wave of social media, in my own small, contained way, from the days of its infancy. By the turn of the 21st century, AOL was all the rage. It was, in fact, one of very few avenues to the internet available to Mr. and Mrs. Joe Average Guy. In 2003, AOL launched its very infant versions of social media.
I started signing on to the internet through Aol in about 1998. In 2003, I was in an extremely lonely and isolated place in my life; as low, I think, as I had ever been. I filled pages upon pages with my maudlin angst...at once an historical record of the sad events of a terrible decade of my life, and an attempt to use pen and paper as a substitute for talk therapy. When J-land started up that year, it was a natural place for me to...put myself "out there." At the outset, I had no idea it was going to turn into a community. But it did...and I really think it saved my life. Or at least, my sanity.
J-land was only around for about 2 years when Aol chose to take its very popular social media to the next level--it added advertisements around the edges of the journal pages. How infuriated we were! There was a mass exodus of j-landers away from the "commercialization" of our little internet home. How funny that seems now. What in the world ever gave us the idea that WE "owned" that little space, or had any say whatsoever about what went on there?
I had a little cadre of steady j-land "friends." I have to laugh, now, when I think of how incensed we were about the ads on our blogs. Some quit the neighborhood altogether, never to be heard from again. Then, Aol closed j-land for good in 2008. So, the whole span of that time of community and emotional support lasted a little less than 5 years. Why, then, is it so branded on my psyche that I STILL miss it?
Most of my j-land friends, however, eventually popped back up on Facebook. They missed the community of social media, I guess, enough to swallow all the things about Facebook which were EXACTLY the things we railed against at Aol j-land.
So...here we are. Fifteen years down the road of social media, all thinking we are so smart and so with-it to have claimed our little spaces on Facebook. Up until the run up to the election of 2016, we had all told ourselves that we could manipulate the medium to serve our personal needs--whether it was to stay in touch with distant family, or reconnect with friends from our past, or communicate with current co-workers or neighbors, or advertise our small business for free.
But as the dark political divisions in our country were highlighted and widened by social media, I think we began to get the inkling that we were playing with fire. That this gigantic network that reached into the homes and hearts of so many Americans of diverse geography, lifestyles, ideologies and faiths had fallen into the hands of forces that could and would manipulate public opinion for their own nefarious purposes. Ultimately putting us at war with each other.
All for financial gain. Someone is getting rich on this stuff. Maybe a lot of someones. But not Mr. and Mrs. Joe Average American. No. We are the pawns. We are the puppets. We are the masses to be manipulated in whichever direction the guy with the most money can point us.
Recent revelations about the extent to which foreign powers trafficked in and manipulated American social media have proven the Machiavellian depths to which this dark game of power and control have gone.
A friend of mine deleted his Facebook page after the Cambridge Analytica bombshell. He said he felt like he needed to do this as a "public service."
I'm inclined to go in that direction myself. But...
I'm having a really hard time cutting that umbilicus.
Facebook is my last, weak connection to my j-land "friends." The folks who flit past my posts and click "like" if something strikes their fancy. The same folks I used to interact with on a deep and personal level (or so I thought) on a nearly daily basis.
If I leave Facebook, I say a permanent goodbye to 95% of the people "in" my life.
And I'm not sure I have the guts to do that. Yet.
Am I a sap? Am I just the kind of person that nefarious forces count on to continue their work of tearing apart the fabric of American society?
Have a look at your account, and particularly the apps you have authorized. Do you actually need all of them? Facebook apps are implicated in this scandal. Please don't leave FB, if only for your own sake. I have more friends on FB than I'll be meeting in the street.
I like to see a man proud of the place in which he lives. I like to see a man live so that his place will be proud of him. --Abraham Lincoln
Where I'm From
I am from station wagons, from kool-aid and turf-builder.
I am from the three bedroom, one bath ticky-tacky box
with the swath of weedy lawn; from lightning bugs,
June bugs, and mosquitoes the size of small birds.
From nights near as hot as the days,
spread-eagled on sticky sheets
crickets creaking, horns honking,
trains rumbling and whistling in the distance…
I am from snow to the eaves, jewel-studded ice storms
and green-black thunderstorms with sideways rain.
I am from bright red tulips, honeysuckle berries,
and worms on the driveway after a cloudburst;
from daisies, tiny wild strawberries, “Queen Anne’s Lace”
and crashing the kite into power lines.
I am from “Look what followed me home from school”
and never having too many animals. From Taffy and Rusty
and Sunny, the yellow headed parakeet, who could say
“Happy Birthday” but only when he thought
no one was listening…
I am from the women who shuttle the carpool,
punch the clock, scrub the toilet,
then climb into the bottle, the herb
or the fantasy to quiet the noise in their heads
and the men they choose to rescue
or who choose to rescue them.
From “When you meet the right one, you’ll just know”
and “Your dad was a virgin when we were married…”
I am from the dutiful eldest daughter who paired off
home made and pro-created at the appointed time,
and the other four who didn’t.
I am from the tearful Catholic and the stoic agnostic;
the rope stretched taut between belief and unbelief,
pulled one direction, then the other…
the eternal tug of war never won.
I’m from pioneers of urban exile; before the country clubs and the soccer and the Rolls Royces.
I’m from the first McDonald’s and the last Tastee Freez.
I am from the great moldering box in the upstairs closet;
roaring twenties sepias stacked on
shiny square instamatic shots, discoloring with age.
I am from the five stair-steps, the Christmas trees, the campfires,
and the blurred mountains captured from a moving car.
I am from the unlikely union of a country boy and a city girl,
brought together by Hitler and Hirohito;
and the neighborhood of compromise
that kept them both sane…almost.
On Where We're Destined to Go...
As for life, I'm humbled, I'm without words sufficient to say
how it has been hard as flint, and soft as a spring pond,both of these and over and over,
and long pale afternoons besides, and so many mysteries beautiful as eggs in a nest, still unhatched though warm and watched over by something I have never seen -a tree angel, perhaps,or a ghost of holiness.
Every day I walk out into the world to be dazzled, then to be reflective. It suffices, it is all comfort - along with human love,
dog love, water love, little-serpent love,sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about
stopping, and lying down at last to the long afterlife, to the tenderness yet to come, when time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,
and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death, I can't wait to be the hummingbird, can you?
Mary Oliver
"Sometimes I go around feeling sorry for myself; and all the while I am being carried by the wind across the sky." --Chippewa saying.
Have a look at your account, and particularly the apps you have authorized. Do you actually need all of them? Facebook apps are implicated in this scandal. Please don't leave FB, if only for your own sake. I have more friends on FB than I'll be meeting in the street.
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