What is Social Media REALLY Doing to Us?

I keep my finger on the pulse of real teen culture, all the time. I’m constantly talking to teenagers and preteens, surfing “teen” internet sites, reading articles and books about teens, reading the novels that teenagers are devouring, and researching what teenagers are in to.

So trust me when I say that I’m seeing some pretty strong red flags from today’s teenagers, when it comes to social media.

Much like the way that Abercrombie & Fitch lost its appeal when middle-aged moms started shopping there, Facebook and Twitter’s shiny newness and loyal adoration is losing footing amongst the teenage set, who increasingly complain to me about how “idiotic” the whole notion is, and how they are “so sick of hearing people say stupid things” online and in text messages.

Boy, I couldn’t have guessed that–kids would get sick of the drama that hounds them every day at school when it follows them home, in the form of Facebook, Twitter, and never-ending texts?

Doesn’t take a genius, folks.

But complaints and annoyances aside, I can’t help but ponder the effects of social media on our culture as a whole.

For one, a natural sense of privacy is being unraveled left and right, all over the place. People regularly carry their phones into the bathroom with them and continue texting and talking and posting, even if they’re in a public restroom. If you don’t believe me, then maybe you haven’t been to a movie theater or mall bathroom in the last year or two. I’ve seen teenagers do this in my own apartment. What should be arguably the most private place in your daily life is being infiltrated by people with bad manners and no sense of dignity.

I won’t even mention the fact that I know several teenagers who put their cell phone in a plastic baggy so they can continue texting while they shower…oops, I did.

Obviously, a lot is being discussed right now about how poor spelling, sentence construction, and even critical thinking skills are being dumbed down by people who text shortened words, slang, and half-thoughts more frequently than ever. But I sense that bigger issues could stem from communicating solely through short texts–we could not only lose the emotion behind words, but also the ability to truly decipher the meaning of others’ words. If all you ever do is text with someone, how do you know what they really mean when they say, for instance, “I’m going to kill myself?” Without reading their body language, tone of voice, facial expression, or observing their delivery of the phrase, one could easily misjudge the seriousness or humor of the situation.

Sure, social media is a valuable tool for sharing the often overlooked details of life with those you love. In my case, as someone who’s lived in 5 different states and lives apart from both sides of my family, I’m able to stay connected with friends and relatives all across the country. But it could be argued, overconnects us and gives us a false sense of importance. Why else do we think that others care what we had for breakfast, where we went shopping this afternoon, what we purchased, what shows we’re watching on television, and how our hair looks today?

As cute as it may be, do we really need to know what others think of their baby’s garbled sentences, or what books they’re reading, or that “we’re making chocolate chip cookies today with mini-chocolate chips–yum!”?

Isn't this enough for the world to know about me?!

I’m startled by the upcoming changes in Facebook’s new “Timeline” platform, which will splay my entire life across the internet–unless I take quite a bit of action to patrol photos, messages, friends, and status updates in advance. As Facebook’s Mick Johnson said, “As you scroll down, you’ll see your posts, photos and life events as they happened, back to the day you were born” and co-founder Mark Zuckerburg adds, “What Timeline does is show all the recent activity and then as you back in time it starts summarizing the things you’ve done in your life”.

Sure, on one hand, that’s compelling. No doubt many of us will have pleasant memories, inside jokes, and forgotten friendships drift back into the limelight. But since when do I need an automated system “summarizing the things I’ve done in my life”? Why does anyone want to see my entire life, “back to the day I was born”?

I’m more than the sum of my Facebook posts and photos–and I fear that the result of this may be just that: we’ll judge each other as the sum of our Timelines, and nothing more. We’ll know every detail of our days, every awkward stage, every like and dislike, every boyfriend and best friend, every family member–but will we actually know what each other’s laughs sound like? Or how we crinkle up our noses when we react to something unpleasant? Or how we sing off-key, hate when people chew on pens, or how we jiggle our foot when we’re antsy?

In other words, what happens when only the highlights (or low points) of our lives are on display to the entire world?

I don’t have enough time to sift through all the implications of the effect that social media will have on upcoming elections, careers, and reputations. But think about it–the future president of the United States is coming from my age group. No doubt he or she is deeply involved in social media right at this moment. All those silly inside jokes, off-color comments, embarrassing photos that they’re posting right now will be displayed for the world to see in the future.

Arguably, the campaign for public offices begins as soon as you activate your Facebook or Twitter account, no matter what your age–because once it’s out there on the internet, you can never truly take it back.

The fact that what you say in the heat of the moment, a drunken state, or in jest could permanently ruin a friendship, a run for office, your education, career or reputation, is a daunting one. 

We all have ups and downs in life, and we make errors in what we say and do. But when every thought that comes to mind is immediately transcribed and published to upwards of 700 ”friends”…or when a stupid decision is broadcasted to your entire university…or when every co-worker sees the picture of you doing something idiotic…what’s the long-term effect?

Besides, as writer Dick Staub succinctly summarizes, we are now living in a world where “networking replaces craftsmanship”. As he writes in his own blog, 

“Today, thanks to technology, everybody can distribute written words, musical compositions or homemade films. Some of these are quite good and deserve a broader hearing and viewing; some are not, probably most. But most think they are worthy and good! (Think of the talentless contestants auditioning for American Idol). This monster of boundless indiscriminate self-expression is due in part to America’s educational philosophy of affirmation absent objective critique. Kids have been told they are really good at things they are absolutely not good at. Technology allows them to give it a go anyway! The elitist, snooty gatekeepers of the past are being displaced by the often intellectually and creatively clueless consumers of the present. They decide what is worthy, though generally ill equipped to distinguish craft from crap.”

So I ask again–what do YOU think social media is really doing to us?

 

I’m a 5th Degree Black Belt in Competitive Shopping…& Training an Army.

As I sit in my cozy living room, proudly surveying our beautiful Christmas tree twinkling with colorful lights, I can’t help but feel a warm rush of pride when I look at all of our presents for our two families neatly wrapped and sitting under the tree.

And guess what? I was done with all of my shopping–for thirteen people–by Thanksgiving.

Know why?

I’m a 5th degree black belt in competitive shopping.

Well, probably. I don’t really know anything about the whole belt system in karate. If we’re being totally honest, I’m hoping that the belt system is even applicable to karate–I took a semester of tae kwon do in college for a PE credit, and really I only paid attention to the terminology enough to know how to kick dummies properly.

Oh, you don’t believe I’m a black belt in shopping?

Read on.

Read off.

Read on.

Ok, not everything translates from classic karate movies to my vernacular, apparently.

Let’s take into account my rigorous training: a childhood of battling crowds at Mall of America, plentiful hours shopping in luxury destinations such as Las Vegas, Florence, Orange County, and Rome, and most importantly, a shopping master: my mother. She trained me to battle everything from Saks Fifth Avenue to the local Goodwill stores.

Add to that an impressively long 8-year career in competitive track and field, and time well spent as the high school’s cross-country captain, and you have a recipe for one part shopping enthusiast, one part endurance athlete.

Alas, I count myself as a 5th degree only because I have many years of competitive shopping training ahead of me, if I want to reach the super-human level of my mom. She still schools me by way of credit limit, shopping bag hauling, and rewards card perks. Oh, and not to mention she can get a mean deal on Ebay.

My only hope is to surpass her in the online world of Groupon and Living Social, which I wield like a sword as she remains skeptical of dubious online outlets.

Someday, Grasshopper.

In the true spirit of zen (maybe, I’m guessing?), I’ve decided to pass on my competitive shopping skills to a whole new generation. Over the last few years, I’ve patiently trained many a young enthusiast in the fine art of sifting through items at Goodwill to find an incredible steal, shopping in the off-season to get deeply discounted merchandise, and knowing when to properly pounce on an excellent bargain that they simply can’t pass up. One of my finest moments was recently hearing one of my youth remark to me, “Like you always say, Cassie, you can always buy it and return it later if you change your mind…but once you pass it up, you can’t get that opportunity back.”

Oh, Imelda Marcos would be so proud.

In fact, I’ve trained a small army of competitive shoppers so well that they decided this year to embark on the ultimate challenge:

Black Friday shopping…all night long.

First, we did our good deed for the night and took a crew of high school youth to the local Target, to pass out warm hot chocolate to the hundreds of people standing in line in the freezing cold–a simple way to cheer people up and remind them to love each other, and that God loves them. Who knows, perhaps our small youth group ‘s act of kindness–that the kids themselves planned–is the reason that there weren’t any pepper spray attacks in south St. Louis this year?

As soon as we ran out of supplies, however, we wiped the kind smiles off of our faces and got down to business.

Over coffee and carbo-loading at IHOP (all-you-can-eat pancakes, to be precise!), we studied reams of paper detailing the secret Black Friday specials of several major stores. As we sat, planning our strategy, I had these fine words to tell my young friends:

“Be strong. Grab the good deals without hesitation. Remember, you can always put it back on the shelf if you change your mind–but if you miss it that first time, it’ll be gone forever.”

Lines at our local mall at 3:00 am...it was packed!

Then, as we tied our scarves around our foreheads like true karate enthusiasts (no, I’m not kidding), I said these profound words:

“If I’m going to be out shopping with you all night, I better not hear one word of complaint about how tired you are, or how you’re sick of standing in line, or how you want to go home. You make a decision now to commit to this thing–it’s Black Friday 2011, and we will not be stopped until we literally drop.”

Ironically, for some reason, the kids were wistful that I hadn’t brought along any eye-black, so we could truly suit up for the occasion.

Next year, perhaps.

We battled our way into  a parking spot at the mall at midnight, as stores flung open their doors and piles of sweaters, phones, and lotions stood gleaming on racks, just calling out to us. After hitting a total of several dozen stores at the mall over the course of several hours, we then drove to Best Buy–where employees fearfully looked at us parading through the doors with vim and vigor at 3:45 am with terror, like we were ravenous flesh-eating zombies ready to drain the life out of them. After Best Buy, we hit Walgreens, and briefly considered going back to the mall–but decided that by that time (5:00 am), all the good stuff would be gone already.

With my car piled high with bags, we triumphantly returned home.

Victorious young shoppers, justly earning their own black belts in competitive shopping.

Now, a few weekends later, I just got a new assignment–er, call–from one of my young protegés:

“Hey Cass, I need to get an outfit…can we go shopping?”

Shop on, young Grasshopper.

Shop on.

The Way the World Treats a Blonde, a Redhead, a Brunette, & a Black-Haired Girl.

I won’t point the finger at anyone in particular.

And I can’t really explain it, other to say that my personal rebellion as an 18-year-old took a strange form:

Hair dye.

I know. What a shocking past.

In the last 8 years, I’ve been almost every shade of hair color you could be: platinum blonde, strawberry blonde, dark blonde, light caramel, honey brown, chestnut, dark brown, black, bright red, auburn…you name it, I’ve had it.

It all started right around my 19th birthday, when on a whim I decided to dye my hair black. Where did the whim come from? I have no idea–I had never even touched my hair with even so much as a highlight before that fateful night. With my roommates egging me on, I chose the darkest shade possible at our local drugstore.

The rest is a blur of uber-dark hair, shocked friends and relatives, an angry stylist, a failed attempt to restore me back to my natural color, an overly zealous stylist dying my hair platinum to “even me out” (and then subsequently bleaching my eyebrows because she screwed up), and several years of throwing up my arms and saying, “Whatever, it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

A few days ago, someone curiously asked me if people treated me differently, based on what color my hair was. I’d never really thought of it before–although once I thought about it, I realized that they had.

So to summarize how I’ve been treated as a blonde, a redhead, a brunette, and with gothic-black hair, read on, my friends.

My natural color....at 18.

         Caramel:

This is my natural color, and probably my most-complimented by random strangers. People often remarked, “Is this your natural color? It’s beautiful!”–and boy, do I regret not appreciating the color now. Apparently, having dark honey-colored hair is unusual enough that people took notice and felt compelled to talk about it.

               Platinum Blonde:

I had two experiences with platinum, one with bleached blonde eyebrows (as I explained, a horrific mistake), and one with my naturally darker eyebrows–and thus, I had two different experiences with this hair color.

Platinum...at 20.

With the bleached eyebrows, I truly felt like I was treated like a ditz. It was subtle, but I felt that many strangers wrote me off as an impulsive shopaholic. It was at this point in my life that well-meaning strangers tried to evangelize to me the most–probably thinking, “Boy, that girl sure needs it”. I was once shopping with a friend in the mall, when a middle-aged man came up and attempted to tell me about Jesus, and despite our efforts to politely decline the conversation, he had a hard time leaving us alone.

Platinum, with my natural brows (whew!)...at 20.

After undergoing the unpleasant process of having my eyebrows grow back to my normal dark color (and boy, is it fun to have different colored eyebrows for a period of a few weeks), I noticed a change in how strangers treated me. I received a lot more random male appreciation, most notably, often in the form of freebies from restaurant servers and store clerks.

Regular Brown:

Regular brown...at 19.

With this hair color, I literally felt invisible. My friends often overlooked me in the crowded university cafeteria, and not a single person ever told me they liked the color. I felt like a plain-Jane, nameless face in the crowd with this color.

              Black:

This was the most striking hair color I’ve ever had, for my fair complexion. Strangers would regularly stop me in the street and say, “My goodness, you have the most amazing blue eyes!” Oddly, I received a ton of attention from people with this hair color–especially men. I’m not sure if it was because when I had this color, I was living in Southern California (the land of blonde-haired beach babes) or if it was because I’m naturally so pale-faced–but regardless, I got a lot of looks from your average Joe on the street (and even got a number

Black...at 18.

from a much older police officer with this hair color). Several of the guys at my college told me that they “loved me” with dark hair, much to my surprise.

Regrettably, however, was an unpleasant experience I had in being compared to a whiny actress from a show I absolutely loathe. That was enough to persuade me to get rid of this hair color as fast as possible.

        Red:

If I wanted to be a magnet for teasing for the rest of my  life, I’d stick with red hair permanently. I can’t even begin to describe how often I was made fun of by total strangers, friends, and co-workers when I had bright red hair. Usually, it was accompanied by some cliché taunt about how I must have a fiery temper–unfortunately, in my case, this is true–which only made me a bigger target.

Red...at 24.

               Strawberry Blonde:

Perhaps it was a childhood of adoring Nancy Drew, but I had always wanted to have strawberry blonde hair. Always.

Until I actually had strawberry blonde hair. It’s just not for me, and it’s so darn hard to match it to clothing. I felt washed out and dulled by literally everything I wore. I don’t know a single person that liked it–not even me.

Strawberry blonde...at 24.

There you go. How the world treated me, based simply on the color of my hair. It’s been an interesting social experiment, and only one real question remains:

What color will I dye my hair next?