Michelle P.'s Writing Piece

Denise and Greg are fighting again—quite publicly.  She writes a not-so-veiled comment on the newsfeed about being stuck with the kids AGAIN by herself and how she is sick of it.  He attacks her by demanding that she not vent where everyone can read it and she knows where she can find him.  The irony is lost in the ensuing back and forth debate, in which “friends” occasionally try to mediate.  

Miranda’s relationship status has gone from “In a relationship” to “It’s complicated.”  What’s that about?  There follows the typical series of comments that range from the maddeningly misspelled: “Its ok hunny” and “Ur better off without him anyway” to the clueless “What happened?” 

(Those types of status updates are always fascinating, though nothing beats the time I read Ben Gonn’s, which went from “Married” to “Single” and on which his wife? ex-wife? posted, “It’s nice to find out you’re planning on divorcing me through Facebook!”  In this case, the cliché of watching a train wreck definitely applies.)

Terri is angry at her son’s teacher, who must have done or said something during class one day. (I’d have to probably go to her home page to see the backstory on that one and it’s hard to read posts that bash other teachers, so this time, I refrain).  Her post ends with a self-congratulatory “You don’t mess with the Mama Bear!” 

Troy has posted a picture of the Pats game—which he attended.  There’s a photo of him down on the field post-game, cheering and pointing his finger to the sky in the “We’re number one!” sign. 

Emma just had her baby.  Declarations of “Congratulations!” follow suit.  Pictures too—in which everyone looks happy and the pink-cheeked child, swaddled in fleece, is sleeping for the camera.

Heather is once again raving about what a wonderful boyfriend she has—and look, there’s the bouquet of peach-colored roses he bought her—“just because.”

Jill has posted pictures of her children—looking adorable—as they sled on the hill outside their home, and then come in for hot cocoa.  Oddly, there are no pictures of them smacking each other on the head, pushing each other off the sofa, or wailing about stolen cars that have mysteriously “absconded” from the room. (Oh wait, those are my kids.)

Mark’s son just won the school spelling bee.  His daughter just cured cancer.

Shelley has just finished cleaning the house, baking a four course dinner (of which she posted pictures), and is now headed out to Zumba—after which she will save the world.

Before I know it, I am sucked in.  Soon it’s been a half an hour, the kids are hungry, I haven’t started a one course dinner yet—let alone a four course one--and I am convinced that—aside from those publicly venting or fighting or complaining-- everyone else is a better parent, better teacher, or is better at juggling life’s responsibilities than I am.  

And apparently, I’m not alone.  According to a study done by Utah Valley University, Facebook—along with other social media sites—makes us sad. 

The study references the kinds of pictures and information people post: most of the pictures show people smiling, having fun—not people sitting depressed in a darkened room.  And there are plenty of people who post funny or positive statuses rather than parading their problems for the world to see—present company included.  So it’s easy to understand why those who spend a lot of time on Facebook come to the conclusion that other people have better lives than they do. 

I remember how excited I was when I first opened my Facebook account.  Ten friend requests.  Then eight more.  Then twelve. Fifteen.  Seventeen.  Six.  Nine.  I had eighty-one friends!   And more.  And more.  I spent time creeping around on my new friends' pages, discovering what they had been up to for the past several years.  It was fun, catching up with former students--who comprise many of my Facebook friends--since, without Facebook, I probably would never know what most of them were doing with their lives.  The downside is that sometimes I know a little too much about what it is that they are doing.

The irony is that while Facebook is touted as sowing connection and community, it often reaps discontent and isolation. 

Facebook users paradoxically isolate themselves from the people who physically surround them in order to interact with people whose only presence is online.  Conversations exist through posts or chats, rather than face-to-face.  After all, when you only have so much time to cook dinner, bathe the kids, do laundry, and grade papers, jotting a quick comment on a friend’s status or hitting the “like” icon is a lot easier than picking up the phone and calling to talk—or better yet, getting in your car and driving over for a visit. 

But maybe that’s the problem.  It's easier, but it isn't as fulfilling. 

I recently got the chance to reconnect with one of my old college friends who lives in Pennsylvania.  Our April vacation was spent roaming through city streets, visiting the Crayola Factory with our children, going mini golfing, eating ice cream, and talking.  I didn’t go on Facebook over the whole vacation.  And (if I’m being honest) mostly, I didn’t miss it.  At one point, my husband logged on so he could print off directions to his cousin’s apartment in New York City.  Like an addict, I succumbed to temptation, briefly, and saw a few status updates by my friends, started feeling left out of the loop, and had to remind myself that I was having a nice time with my family and friends while I was on a vacation—and had to remind myself about how good it felt to visit with someone in person.

My excuse is always that I don’t have time to do this type of connecting.  I’m too busy walking the tightrope of mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, teacher, advisor to do much more than keep my head straight, arms extended, one foot in front of the other. 

Yet how much time each day do I end up spending on Facebook?  On a weeknight, maybe not so much.  A half hour.  Sometimes 45 minutes, if the posts are interesting.  On weekends?  Some Saturdays I feel like a user, in every sense of the word.  I spend my time procrastinating various chores by plunking myself down in front of the computer, scrolling down the screen, wondering why everyone else has a life but me. 

Wendy is going to Hampton Beach to check out the sand sculpture competition.  (It’s a gorgeous summer day.  Why didn’t I think of that?  Probably because I was thinking of all the grading I still have to do. Too late now.)

Jane is hiking up Lovell Mountain with her family.  (Ditto my previous comment.)

Nancy is thanking Tina and Steve for a fun date night the previous evening.  (People have date nights?  And when was the last time we got together with anyone?)

Susan is baking muffins with her girls.  Next they will be making crepes.  (I could do that.  I can bake, right?  Well, maybe not crepes.  But muffins, yes.  I could do muffins.)

It's a sorry way to spend a Saturday: sitting at my computer while other people are out seizing the day. 

So maybe it’s time that I stop letting Facebook get me down.  Maybe it’s time to recognize that the honest answer to the question, “What’s on your mind?” isn’t always what fills everyone’s pages, and that the “faces” that people present on Facebook are the ones that they want the world to see—for better or for worse—and if I want more meaningful relationships, while Facebook is a fun way to interact with people, it shouldn’t be the only way I do so.

“What’s on my mind—and that of my family and friends?”  Maybe it’s time to log off and find out.