Faux Real
kbolilia@theguidon.com
I never had a Friendster account, and my 13-year old self didn’t imagine that at 19, I’d be so proud of it. Back then, I was just a non-conformist, an outsider being subjected to daily persuasions of finally getting myself one. Don’t get me wrong, the idea of writing “testimonials” on each other’s profile was appealing, and having the most number friends also meant upping your street cred—but I was just never up for it.
Six years into the future and thirty minutes into a plane ride en route to Hong Kong, I was reading an article on Wall Street Journal about the recent backlash Facebook’s been getting from privacy advocates. I read about how a series of recent changes limited what users can keep private, and started to be alarmed of apparently, glitches that can expose personal data. After a couple of minutes, I couldn’t wait to land.
It’s a good thing that Hong Kong is a 120-minute destination, but not because I was excited to reunite with the hoarder in me. I was eager to check out YourOpenBook.org, a site the article mentioned that searches the public status updates of Facebook users. A search engine for public photos and other data just doesn’t sit so well with the privacy freak in me, and I naturally plunged into paranoia. Induced with part narcissism and part fear, I typed in my name, and a status of a friend that mentioned my name appears. Though only one result came out, and the task proved to be harmless, I had to wonder for the other almost 500 million users.
A few weeks ago, Facebook notified most of us about the changes they’ve made to their privacy settings. But it still begs the question: just how much of ourselves are we consciously putting out there? I never had a Friendster account, but at some point I caved and succumbed to Multiply, and it went downhill from there—my 13-year old self would disapprove. I joined Facebook, Tumblr, WordPress, and Twitter (which I’ve grown so attached to that it’s a little pathetic). Really, it’s ironic how I was more steadfast as a girl just about to hit puberty.
Save from my Facebook, all my accounts are public. I’m not saying it as a crude form of shameless plugging; I’m saying it because maybe I should start imposing some shame to myself. Let’s face it, we’re doling out pieces of ourselves to the world, and that’s giving everyone a lot of access. Especially with the onset of Formspring, which is basically giving anonymous people license to exercise their non-right to be invasive. Maybe I’m a little prude, but does everyone really have to know every plaguing detail of our lives? What are we doing and what are we all after? I’ve tried to be real careful with just how much information I dispense online, but at the rapid pace of technology, it’s taking a lot more effort to keep up.
The Internet is an amazing place for self-expression, creativity, and has revolutionized the way we construct and receive information. I’m all for sharing and preserving memories, but we need to preserve some of our privacy, too. There’s nothing wrong with being a little selfish and modest about our virtual lives, and being more generous and committed to our real ones. Some things are better left unsaid.
