The Modern Nonconformist.


The internet sometimes conspires to make you feel like an outsider.

This is particularly the case if you opt out of the horrendous social media conventions we’re all expected to be a part of. Facebook’s the big ugly one for me; I joined it a few years after it started, largely to help promote mine and Glyn’s first Edinburgh run in 2008. Once on it, I’d use it both as a chance to try out jokes (as that’s always been my way) and to keep in touch with friends - though before long, my friend list stretched far further than just the people I was close to, to people I’d only just met; it turned new friendships into acquisitions with a Pokémon “Gotta Catch ‘Em All” aftertaste.

A few years later, I deactivated my account because it felt unhealthy. Every so often, I restart it, but each time I do, it makes me feel more out of step, and if the algorithms don’t add up and my posts are missed, I wind up feeling lonely too; so much for bring people together.

I’ve seen friendship groups I was once a part of continue without me. I’ve seen people who used to interact with me gradually stop. Suddenly, my priorities feel very different, and the fact I'm in a minority makes me feel out of step. It like shouting in vacuum: the silence is deafening.

The problem with this sort of internet presence is everyone’s trying too hard, and I include myself in that. As much as I don’t want to play the game, it’s almost impossible to not judge myself by its parameters. If I say something on Facebook or Twitter and no-one responds, I feel isolated, and this isolation compounds to makes me feel like I’m on the other side of soundproofed glass.

That’s why I’d sooner keep things simple and remain in a small friendship group; the bigger your social network, the more lost in the crowd you become. It’s why companies like Facebook seem so irresponsible to me; Mark Zuckerberg's got a lot to answer for (though at least he pays his tax...)

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