Loading ...So I’ve deactivated my Facebook profile. The 339 people who included me in their networks of friends may or may not have noticed that I’ve simply vanished. Gone.
And it’s wonderful. I thought I’d be devastated, as though a limb had suddenly been removed, but I feel liberated. A new person. Perhaps this is how smokers feel after they kick the habit.
No more pressure to write entertaining status updates. No more compulsive changing of profile pictures. No more pointless wading through pointless revelations, no more requests, no more growing gifts or hatching eggs. No more so-and-so has completed “which Crayola colour are you” or “Which Disney princess are you” or “What’s your spirit name?”
No more reflexive checking every 30 seconds to see whether there was anything new, the digital equivalent of the panther pacing in a concrete cage.
No more opening up my life to the purview of strangers. Even if Facebook was a way to back up my most important photos, there were too many of them there, too many private details, too many aspects of my life that should not have been open to semi-public consumption. My brother in the UK complained that I was addicted, that it was unhealthy. I read too many articles on the dangers of social networking, how there are certain details one should not share, how Facebook owns the rights to any photo you upload there.
I tried pruning my friends list, cutting out photos, removing personal details. In the end, it was much easier to go cold turkey.
There are disadvantages to quitting Facebook. It was my primary networking tool, and I met and maintained connections with many useful contacts through it. I tracked activity on it and punted its inclusion in my communication strategies. It offered a revolutionary way to stay in touch with friends, and it was a lifeline when I was isolated and alone in Australia.
Twitter is useful, but it’s not quite the same. How I’ll market my next book without Facebook is going to be something of a challenge, and I may well decide that I need some kind of presence there, along with the other 1.7 million South Africans who were registered Facebook users as of May 2009.
It’s possible to reactivate any account that has been deactivated, so there’s always that option. But I think that if I ever do venture onto Facebook again, I will reduce my presence there dramatically. I’ll be the author of a book I want to promote, a contact for people who know me personally and who want to stay in touch, perhaps a potential business associate, though I am not sure it makes sense to mix one’s business and personal life.
The one thing I cannot do is expose my private life the way I did before. One photo, one favourite movie, and it’s a slippery slope from there. I am a Facebook addict, and I don’t know if I can ever go back.
But Facebook has never appealed that much to me. I have in fact not logged on to my account for about a year now. I have thought about this and why I should have so little interest, and I think it’s because I just don’t care that much about what my friends and acquaintances are getting up to. I suppose I am to a degree anti-social. People at a cocktail party would not be avoiding me as I would not be there in the first place. I wonder if other anti-social people also have little need for facebook?
I see that some folk, Koos Kombuis for example, only have a fan page, which is updated with his upcoming events : shows, appearances, etc. There’s no personal stuff, only promotional info, and no back and forth communication. It’s networking without the trivia. It could work very well for you
(Report abuse)