Step away from the status updates

By Juli

I am suffering from rapid onset of personal technology obsolescence. I can smell it in the static electricity coming off my old iMac. The scary thing is that I’m not caring as much as I think I should, which has me wondering if I’m destined to be that grey haired curmudgeon instead of the hipster grandma I always assumed I’d be.

Now, there was a time, not so long ago, when I was up-to-date on most everything. Not so much anymore. I reached a saturation point. De.lici.ous? I don’t even use bookmarks. (And no, I don't care if I put the periods in the right place.) Twittering? It sounds like something you run to the bathroom for. Flikr? Friends get those annoying holiday postcards with our pictures plastered on them, isn’t that good enough?

The technology obsolescence plaque forming around my little personal bubble is being fed by “status update overload.” It’s like when you were at prom, and those freaky people start seizuring on the dance floor. You have to step off and lean up against the wall. For one, gawking is best done in the shadows. Two, you’re in shock. You don’t trust your own instincts. Do other people think this is cool? Am I the only loser that thinks this is stupid? It just makes you not want to dance at all when you see how some people can make it such an unholy spectacle. Okay, you’re right. “So don’t watch.” Part true, but this is my PROM. They’re invading my prom!

Enter Facebook. Daily prom. Daily 20th high-school reunion. You just go to see who got fat and bald, right? I admit, I really do like Facebook. Creepy as it is. Once I convinced myself we have no real privacy anyway, I signed right up for the data mining and intrusive advertising. With gusto.

I’d like to figure out how to secretly unfriend a few people without causing a commotion though. Not because of anything too juicy, but because it’s taken me a while to realize how I want to use Facebook and who I’m comfortable with in the audience. For instance, that guy I used to work with but don’t think ever really liked me and is just connected with me to boost his “friend numbers” (you know those people). I don’t think he needs to have a private inroad to my holiday pictures. It freaks me out.

But have I unfriended him? No. Because I’m a hypocrite. It’s voyeurism with permission. And I can snicker at him and his antics just like he’s probably secretly snickering at mine. Or not caring about me at all (worse?). Or whatever. It’s sick and twisted and addictive, and I love it. Viva la frenemies on Facebook!

So, if you’re familiar with Facebook, you know you can update your status. Love that. Most of them are funny, cute, informative, whatever. Little conversation starters with your friends. But I draw the line, you know? This shit gets annoying at a point. Every godforsaken narcissist or wannabe talkshow host who updates his/her status every five minutes. I mean, let’s be real, it’s ridiculous. I can see having a shitty, boring-ass day. Triggering off a few random updates to let off some steam. Hey, if you have the wit, I’ll serve you up a laugh. But don’t clutter my newsfeed every single day with shameless minutia. That makes me cranky.

Jane Doe just woke up and made coffee.
Jane Doe just chose the red dress.
Jane Doe tripped over her cat.
Jane Doe’s kid just puked.
Jane Doe is watching a movie.
Jane Doe is still watching the movie.

Holy shit, are you for reals? It takes me a couple cups of strong coffee, a trip to the bathroom, and some warm up stretching before I have the wherewithal to even push the power button on my computer. I have this image of people in the shower, scrubbing their privys with one hand and updating their status on a BlackBerry with the other. Or driving down the road, ready to cause a fifty-car pileup because they just have to let their three hundred closest friends know they just passed a McDonalds with the biggest indoor playground they’ve EVER seen.

Back to my bubble. I don’t want to be that person. So over-connected to technology that I’m totally out of touch with reality. So I’m going to do the mature thing and laugh at what I don’t understand. Make fun of people behind their backs. Check out and take up something old school. Like chess. Or reading.

Until one day when I overhear my kids whispering how lame I am because I don’t know the first thing about techsa-whatsit-widgets. Yeah, then I’ll have only myself to blame.