From iPhone to Twitter to Facebook

It must have started after I got my new phone last year.

I know that's when I started using Twitter. And when I saw Jared using Facebook on his phone, I kind of shrugged and went along my merry way. (Case in point, I made a rather adamant statement in October saying I was NOT interested in Facebook. Hmmm. Don't I look stupid now.) And then Jared started showing me clips from his News Feed about people in our ward or family in which he thought I might be interested. And then I started wondering, really, what all the fuss was about with Facebook.

I started asking Jared more questions about Facebook, since he seems to be the early adopter in our family. And I thought, well, I already use Twitter. Is it that much different?

So, being the practical person that I am, I did some research on why I should (or shouldn't) join Facebook. (I know, most people think, "Oh, I'd like to stay in touch with some distant friends. I should join Facebook." Me? I do research first. I'm weird like that. Jared laughed at me.)

My biggest arguments for not joining Facebook were thus: it would take too much time; it was a weird concept; and it was just a fad that would pass. I also think I thought it was a lot like MySpace, which it clearly is not. And I'm sorry, the argument that you should join Facebook just because everyone else has isn't a valid point for me.

During my research, I found two articles that particularly struck a chord with me — one from Slate and one from the New York Times — by people who clearly did their own research before spouting off some trite nonsense. First up, Slate writer Farhad Manjoo.

That brings us to Harris' argument: What's the social utility to Facebook—why should you join? Like with e-mail and cell phones, there are many, and as you begin to use it, you'll notice more and different situations in which it proves helpful. In general, Facebook is a lubricant of social connections. With so many people on it, it's now the best, fastest place online to find and connect with a specific person—think of it as a worldwide directory, or a Wikipedia of people.

That kind of made me pause. Sure, the more you use it the more you'll find uses for it, but that in and of itself is not reason enough for me to join. My biggest hindrance was that I thought it would make me even more of a recluse than I am already. Manjoo continues:

Skeptics often suggest that online social networks foster introverted, anti-social behavior — that we forge virtual connections at the expense of real-life connections. But only someone who's never used Facebook would make that argument. Nobody avoids meeting people in real life by escaping to the Web. In fact, the opposite seems true: Short, continuous, low-content updates about the particulars of your friends' lives — Bob has the flu, Barbara can't believe what just happened on Mad Men, Sally and Ned are no longer on speaking terms—deepen your bonds with them. Writer Clive Thompson has explored this phenomenon, what social scientists call "ambient awareness." Following someone through his status updates is not unlike sitting in a room with him and semiconsciously taking note of his body language, Thompson points out. Just as you can sense his mood from the rhythm of his breathing, sighing, and swearing, you can get the broad outlines of his life from short updates, making for a deeper conversation the next time you do meet up.

It's this benefit of Facebook that seems to hook people in the end: Their friendships seem to demand signing up.

Now this? This is a good reason and why I began my Facebook investigations. It is also a point that is explored more in-depth in this piece from the New York Times by writer Clive Thompson. It's rather lengthy (but well worth the read in my opinion), so I'll just point out one area that was the hook for me to sign up for Facebook. Thompson writes:

This is the paradox of ambient awareness. Each little update — each individual bit of social information — is insignificant on its own, even supremely mundane. But taken together, over time, the little snippets coalesce into a surprisingly sophisticated portrait of your friends’ and family members’ lives, like thousands of dots making a pointillist painting. This was never before possible, because in the real world, no friend would bother to call you up and detail the sandwiches she was eating. The ambient information becomes like “a type of E.S.P.,” as Haley described it to me, an invisible dimension floating over everyday life.
“It’s like I can distantly read everyone’s mind,” Haley went on to say. “I love that. I feel like I’m getting to something raw about my friends. It’s like I’ve got this heads-up display for them.” It can also lead to more real-life contact, because when one member of Haley’s group decides to go out to a bar or see a band and Twitters about his plans, the others see it, and some decide to drop by — ad hoc, self-organizing socializing. And when they do socialize face to face, it feels oddly as if they’ve never actually been apart. They don’t need to ask, “So, what have you been up to?” because they already know. Instead, they’ll begin discussing something that one of the friends Twittered that afternoon, as if picking up a conversation in the middle.

So I've done it. I started a Facebook account. I already have 20-ish friends and am working on requests for the rest of my family and friends (if I've missed you and you use Facebook, please come find me. I'm at facebook.com/marydalene. I'm not trying to ignore you, I just don't want to be annoying and send you multiple requests. If there was one thing I would change, it would be a status on the requests I've already issued, just so I don't double dip. If I sent you more than one already, I'm very sorry.)

So let the immersion in ambiance awareness begin. I figure, at least at this point, it couldn't hurt. And I can use it on my phone.