Facebook is weirder than you think.

Facebook is really fucking strange. I’m not sure when or how but it literally bypassed “internet fad” to being a social necessity, which just straight up freaks me out. The movement from Myspace to Facebook happened at, I think, my sophomore year of high school. I only remember because I recently went back to my old Myspace and was incredibly embarrassed by what I saw: all the terrible teen angst and pathetic attempts to be funny. Of course that sounds a lot like this site,too. But I’ve definitely improved.

Oh you want proof? Well fine. Go back to the beginning of my facebook profile and read the statuses. Those were “myspace era.” As you get closer to now, you’ll see it morph into  the “Facebook era.” And jesus that change is pretty glaring. That also leaves the larger issues that Myspace and Facebook was,at one point the difference between the emo kid wreaking of pot who sat behind you in English class and one of the cookie cutter rich kids who smelled of alcohol, church, and shame. Then the freaking gradient disappeared. Even freaking Tom Anderson posts all his updates on Facebook now.

After Facebook went all Kill Bill on Myspace, I figured it was just a fad. I mean I jumped onboard, but I never actually realized that it would last. I think opening up to high school kids did it, but that’s beside the point. And the point is that facebook just kept growing and updating to the point where now I can know and deduce details about people’s relationships without actually having to talk to them. Facebook became a social phenomenon in literally 5 years. And then Google+ came around. It was intended to be the Inigo Montoya to Facebook’s Count Rugen by promising privacy and the ability to create circles of friends and only share certain things to certain people.

The overwhelming response, at least with my friends, was that Google+ was just confusing and they didn’t care about who saw the things they posted; they just wanted their posts to be seen. That confused me for a while. Then I started hearing people bring up and discuss posts on facebook in real life. I mean it had been happening before; I had been and still am a part of this behavior; but people’s cyber-selves started to invade their real lives. It became a conversation topic, a conversation starter– basically something that seemed unify circles of friends in real life. I mean, let’s get the facts straight here– circles of friends were by no means unified. They still existed– people would only post on the walls of people they knew, like and comment on the posts of they people they saw often, etc. But a third party was privy to all the interactions within cliques and created an illusion of inclusiveness (no, I’m pretty sure that isn’t a word).

But Facebook really did invade our lives. It’s changed our language. Think back to 7 years ago: the word “like” was never treated as a noun while still remaining a verb. You hear “I liked your status” and somehow, the subject of the sentence is the “like,” not “I” or “your status.” Same thing with “comment.” Or, god forbid “poke war.” I would just like to take this opportunity to say that I started a poke war in the second grade and was given detention. I now demand retribution. I would also like to say right now that Bruce, if you’re reading this, I definitely won.

Anyway. Here’s the bottom line: the development of Facebook into a necessity of social interaction. He who does not facebook is a blaspheme. At least that’s how I treat my brother, who remains against the whole concept. And I’ve slowly come around to his side of the fence– of course, I’ll never delete mine: there would be no way to bombard the world with my dumb puns and funny finds from Tumblr and Imgur and Reddit (let’s take this opportunity to say that all the procrastination sites seem to just be Facebook accessories and supplements). But my brother has a point, the fact that facebook is some sort of symbol of social aptitude (for lack of a better word) is kind of sad. But let’s get real here: everything would be okay if it wasn’t so fucking awkward.

That’s the Catch-22 of the whole deal of people feeling like they’re included: you’re still not. You’re going to see the people on whom you creep in real life and resort to manuvers like (I am guilty of all these things) “oh I just got an imaginary text and it requires an urgent response,” “that thing on the wall furthest away from you is fascinating,”  ”Oh look, my shoe is untied. I’d better turn around, look straight down while crouching and tie it,” and my personal favorite “oh shit I have to poop right fucking now.”

I will close with the experience that has brought me to write this post.

Every once in a while, we (me, my brother, my dad and mother) go out with my Aunt and Uncle (and cousin, if she decides to flatter us with her presence that day). Conversation always turns into the Uncle’s Republican babble about the economy, the latest book he’s reading, and unwanted advice for both my and my brother’s futures. I mean I truly do appreciate that he cares, but please please please dispense with the tone of intense narcissism with which you say things. The facts are uninteresting, the books are lame, the opinion is limited, and, as I said, the advice mostly unwanted. In the midst of all this, I am asked how school is going, and I respond with a generic “it’s hard but I’m enjoying it” to dispel any follow-up questions. Except the one– which I really should learn to expect. “Have you met Nola? She’s doing Biomedical Engineering too; but I think she’s a senior.”( Now, there’s no one named Nola. I changed the name, obviously.) To which I respond “No, but if I do, I’ll tell her you said howdy.” (It is my theory that the use of “howdy” will concern them enough to change the subject).

Over the summer, around the Fourth of July, I went with my parents to some party at my Aunt’s house. There, I was introduced to a myriad of the sort of Indian people by whom I am really confused (I will post my thoughts on that paradox eventually), and the token white couple (I shit you not). Anyway, at this party (torture chamber), I met a married couple whose names I honestly don’t remember. My dad had, at some point, introduced me without my being there, so these people came up to me and said something like “Oh you must be Surya. Your dad just told me about you. You’re directing a musical? That’s a big job!” To which I nodded, smiled and said yes. They then asked me what school I went to, which my dad had apparently neglected to mention. My response was “Case Western– It’s a little outside Cleveland.”

I’m sure you can predict now what their response was: “We’re familiar with it– actually our daughter Nola goes there! She isn’t here– Have you met her though?” The rest of that conversation was a blur: mostly consisting of things about Nola (which were impressive), the weather, the holiday, and the food. I still don’t remember how I escaped.

The next day, I sign onto facebook. One friend request. Nola. My immediate thoughts were as follows:

1. Fuck.

2. Seriously?

3. Fuck.

4. Damn it, Nola!

5. Oh shit I have to poop right fucking now

6. Fuck.

Stupid Nola. I’m sure your parents told you that they had met me. In my head,  see them telling her I was going to be a junior and that it’d be nice if she could advise me, etc. especially because I was directing. And naturally also because I was so handsome, funny, and charming. To which she said okay, and without a second thought, friended me on Facebook. I saw two options: (1) decline and face the fact that it could be seen as a personal passive aggressive attack against the Aunt and Uncle/their life, and have that blow up into a thing (haha my family), or (2) accept and face the inevitable book of consequences.

I chose option two.

This year, I have seen Nola way too many times. And she has seen me. And we pretty much know who the other is. But here’s the thing: we’ve literally never actually met in the real world. like ever. I know her parents, not her. So…that happened. But there’s more.

This semester, I am in a Numerical Methods class. So is Nola. What the actual fuck. But wait! There’s even more! The class has a co-requisite programming lab which happens in sections of 20 students. Nola and I are in the same one. We sat one computer diagonally from each other and for 90 minutes stared intently at the computer, the ceiling, or the teacher. Thank heavens we didn’t finish at the same time. Thank hell for the fact that, yes, there’s more.

For this same class, all Homeworks are done in groups. I was fine with it until I was told groups were assigned. My group: Me, some guy, Nola. So here’s the new angle: this group has to meet to do this homework. I don’t know some guy, and I don’t want to be the one to break and shit all over the Facebook-Real life barrier. I assume Nola doesn’t know some guy either, and she is in the same position as me. Therefore, this entire homework has been done exclusively via e-mail. I’ve had to be mindful of my actions, as she serves as a direct link to my family life, which I keep completely separate from my school life. And she’s probably had to do the same. And I’m fine with all this.

But  if I have to think “oh shit I have to poop right fucking now” one more time, I will actually just explode.