University of Myspace, Facebook State, Xanga College...

I have a post in limbo, but I've been sick most of the week and haven't really gotten around to editing it. The more posts I write, the pickier I become about what I say and how I say it. I suppose that's a good thing, but it slows me down and makes me want to delete everything I've ever written. At any rate, today I give you

Things I Have Learned from Networking Websites.

1. Most persons are invisible to themselves. What I mean is that persons rarely (if ever) see themselves accurately. Outside of the odd and horrific moment of clarity, we only ever see of ourselves that which we want to see. I discovered this years ago from browsing myspace and xanga profiles; I noticed that everyone thought themselves unique. Instead, I was surprised to discover how much the same everyone is. The more unique someone thinks they are, the less likely it is that they are.

The trouble is that they are wrong because they are right. Or more precisely, they are wrong because of where they are right. For instance, today I read this in somebody's profile: "I am one of the strangest people you'll ever meet because of my likes and dislikes." A person is right that he is unique in so far as there is not another person that is he, but everyone is wrong when they think that their uniqueness is anything but superficial. My tastes differentiate me from others the same way different outfits make identical mannequins different. It creates a false sense of diversity. Beliefs create substantial differences: nothing else does. The Flat Earth Society is full of people who truly are unique. Our schools and universities are full of clones.

The problem isn't that we haven't got enough mirrors, it's that we have far too many.

2. The search for significance appears as a transmission of the trivial (how's that for alliteration, eh?). What I mean is that much of the noise that is generated on social networking sites is the result of everyone's attempt to be heard. I wish I had a dollar for every Myspace bulletin I've ever opened which said "new profile!! go comment!!" or "new pix from da show lst weekend!! leve me commentz! xoxo." These desperate pleas for attention are pretty obvious, but the same force is at work on Twitter and Facebook, I believe. (I need someone to pick on. Let's create someone named Billy.) Thanks to Twitter, I don't care that Billy just got a paper cut. I don't care that Billy is now watching American Idol. Nobody but Billy cares that it's time to vacuum. Persons that do care about these sorts of things are called stalkers. Or gossips. But Billy obviously wants us to care about all these things, otherwise he wouldn't tell us about them. If the trivial things in Billy's life can be significant to somebody else, then the whole of Billy's life becomes significant.

At this point I hear someone protesting that not all transmission of triviality is a search for significance. This is true. Much of it is a search for amusement, and sharing what we find amusing often increases our pleasure. But my argument is strictly within the arena of internet community. It is one thing to share a joke someone else has made because you enjoyed it; it is a very different thing to invent a pointless joke in order to leave a comment (I'm guilty of this. One of my great vices is that I use humor, not to make other persons feel good, but rather to make myself feel significant). When I receive comments about things I have done or said, it gives me the illusion of significance. When I leave trivial comments on things other persons have done or said, I often find that I'm only trying to assert my own importance (talking to hear myself talk).

All this is based on less than a decade's weight of observation and introspection and many gallons of theory. So I propose an experiment. As you float around the internet's social networks, pay attention to how people react to each other, pay attention to yourself, and notice triviality as triviality. Then let me know whether or not you agree with me, and on what points you agree or disagree. I'm interested in hearing your thoughts.