seen from Germany
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Somebody on Facebook (a complete stranger but still) wrote an unexpected comment about me.
The person literaly wrote: “You are one of the coolest women ever!”
I can’t believe someone said that to me. It’s weird but I’m happy with it. I’ve never thought I was cool.
Facebook can make you friend with people you don’t know. Sometimes with musicians, artists. But you never expect that they will write you or anything. I’ve always kept a distance with people I don’t know very well, and of course with artists I like. They are maybe in your contacts list but you can’t consider them your friends.
However it’s nice when one of them wish you a happy birthday. It doesn’t happen very often so I had to mention that I got a birthday wish from Marky Ramone.
I am really glad that I was born in the era before Facebook.
I would feel so damn awkward if I grew into a teenager/young adult to find that my parents had spent my entire childhood posting my baby and toddler photos all over public internet for literally the entire world to find and view.
Is it worse that I want to start commenting "sexy" on my Facebook friends baby pictures or that I don’t want to do it on my friends who would get the joke but those who don’t...
what happens to our archives?
And no matter how prolifically you post, stuff normally just gets lost in the flow without coalescing into any sort of coherent object, in the way a text, especially once published, does. Kenneth Goldsmith’s Printing out the Internet project comes to mind here, and its resemblance to, as Orit Gat points out, new services like My Social Book (basically a book of your Facebook life) which, despite their chirpy rhetoric, foreground concerns raised when corporations are entrusted with our personal archives.
As she says, “The internet is constantly shifting; will your memories—in the form of writing, images, or anything else—survive the demise of the sites that host them?” Printing out a freeze-frame of your Facebook life for posterity means you’ll have something to show your grandkids when these platforms are but a distant memory. Which sounds cute, but as she points out these services feed off anxieties about the future of our data selves without encouraging users to question the ways this info is being stored and monetized, and by whom, right now.
more here: This Is (Not) My Book
