Irony

 In this age of constant downloads, uploads, updates, blogs, posts, sites, videos, nobody can disagree that we are constantly stimulated. With Facebook posts and Twitter updates, some would argue that privacy is dead. We check in wherever we go, we tweet, we update, our location is open to whoever reads it. Even an attempt to mask private details is easily overcome. There is no need for spying, no matter the triviality, most every thought is public. We seek to be heard, to be seen, to be appreciated for our wit. If privacy is dead, we killed it. But with our every thought on broadcast, we have lost the ability to filter what is really important. We must be heard, and yet we only bare the most surface of thoughts and dreams. Our meal updates have precedence. Few take the time for silence. Few can bear the very thoughts born in the mind and dreams of the heart. The hum of activity and the vibrating cellphone have stalled us, we are unable face the true state of our lives. I should be much less concerned with being understood, and more so with understanding myself.

Read back the last year in posts and updates on the various social networking sites. How many of our very public comments were meaningful or considered? Does “I had a sandwich for lunch” carry the weight of Dicken’s “I had considered how the things that never happen, are often as much realities to us, in their effects, as those that are accomplished.” It could be argued that social networking isn’t designed for more considered thoughts, but for updating our friends on our activities. There is some truth in that, but there is also the danger of only expressing ourselves through these outlets. Social networking by nature limits the profundity of our communication. A limit of 140 characters either breeds brevity or frivolity, and I am afraid it is the latter. Over time, our ability for long form writing and speech has diminished. Vocabulary and wit atrophy if unused. I have seen functioning adults struggle with basic vocabulary and college students fail in expressing themselves verbally. Some are willfully ignorant, but some have unlearned these skills.

Ultimately it does not matter that we voluntarily waive our privacy, nothing of value was lost. Our circles of friends have widened so greatly that we spread ourselves too thin. In an effort to maintain our many contacts, those closest to us lose the vitality of friendship. We substitute vulnerability for a constant stream of inanity, our intimate friendships with Facebook. I don’t remember the last intimate conversation or silent moment I have had. We are in danger of losing what makes us special. We are losing intimate communication. We are losing meditation, we are losing vulnerability. It isn’t an oppressive Orwellian government that I am afraid of, it is Bradbury’s vision of the future that I fear. His vision was a culture too entranced by entertainment to think for itself. I do not expect constant surveillance and rhetoric to oppress, we are reporting on ourselves, and we are oppressing our own thoughts.