Katie is perplexed

I just don’t understand other people sometimes. Particularly when it comes to their supreme awkwardness in real life coupled with a strange (and actually more awkward, come to think of it) openness when it comes to pouring their souls out on their computer screens.

Yes, folks, I’ve been trolling around the Interweb again, and as usual, my conclusions regarding mankind and its future/ultimate demise are bleak.

Through the miracle of Facebook’s status updates, I now know more about the lives of old high school acquaintances than I do about my friends who’ve moved away (they’re not avid updaters). Attention girl I was in choir with one year who “friended” me out of the blue several years ago: I do not want to know that much about your moods. Or your party habits…or your medical history. Seriously.

I know people feel a certain sense of security on the internet. It’s kind of like picking your nose in the car, I guess. You feel separated, but in reality the dude in the pickup in the next lane is laughing his mullet off. To be clear, in this metaphor, I am that dude, now sans embarrassing hairdo. And to be honest, the laughing is often nervous and uncomfortable.

The real disconnect for me is that I would never write some of the things I’ve seen on peoples’ profiles. They’ve got their deepest personal issues hanging out all willy nilly for everyone to see! It’s embarrassing, for God’s sake! If they realized that the mini feed was informing me, an old acquaintance, of these things, they would croak.

Or maybe not. Maybe it’s the over-socialized, A-student, law-abiding small child within me that makes me too closed-off to share. It’s a viable theory, to be sure, but that’s not the only factor in play here. Certainly my early-instilled sense of appropriateness would never lead me to type, “Katie is really hoping she gets her period soon! :/”, for example. But I would also never write, “Katie is having a bad day and really needs a hug,” either. Partially because I’m particular about just who hugs me and I don’t want just any of my 300 “friends” approaching me on the street. But no, the real reason is, I would be far too concerned that others would judge me as weak, or lame, or socially awkward if I shared a genuine emotion via the internet, of all things. Why would I worry about that, you ask? Because I judge people that way. Not necessarily for saying, “Billy is sad,” but certainly for “Jessie needs a man PRONTO!!!1! ;)” and absolutely for “Louisa just wants to be held until the storm ends.” I mean, really? The latter is so sappy and trite, and the former is so…gross.

I have been known to be sappy, trite, and gross (sometimes all at the same time), make no mistake. I am every bit as emotionally complex and deeply ridiculous as anyone else on the world wide web, but, here’s the thing: why advertise it? My god, when I think about how easily I click “accept” when someone random sends me a friend request, the mere idea of sharing the intimate details of my life with them makes my mouth taste like bile.

It’s easy to say, “yeah, they’re really concerned about you. Narcissist.” But it doesn’t matter who’s actually concerned, because the Facebook’s ways are mysterious: the mini feed provides gossip and Wall-quotes indiscriminately, without heed to which of your “friends” you actually care about. Just ask me. I can tell you all about “Misty’s” alcoholism and “Timmy’s” mood swings. And that “Clara” really likes bad poetry.

What does this culture of over-sharing add up to? Why is it that I should know more about my recently out-of-the-closet acquaintance’s love life than I do about my friends’? (Perhaps that I am not a very good friend, but if friendship means finding out that many details on a regular basis, count me out. It really is just…a lot of information). I’m not sure if it means people are all emotionally retarded and can’t express themselves properly in reality, or if I am too easily scandalized. Likely a little of both.

When all is said and done, I don’t know why it is that some people love nothing more than to tell the internets the exact details of how they lost their underwear last night when I carefully consider even admitting to my hangover this morning. I like to think it stems from my inherent superiority, but that’s my answer to everything. I suppose how much you share with the world (virtual or otherwise) is up to you, cowboy. The consequences will vary—a potential employer may decide to pass on you, I may judge you. Or nothing will come of it. You know, either or. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve only got this to say:

Katie is over it.