Facebook Fatalities

‘wel dun lads, u tried, il giv u 10 out of 10 4 effort like, i fink its about time you ALL got it into ur heads tht me n ***are HAPPY!! and were going to stay that way, the sooner u *****! realise tht the beta. nw pls, find some1 or sumit else 2 stir **** bout cos it int workin with us, bt hey, talk bout us all u want, its only makin us famous ;) u may be laffin now, bt WE WILL have the last laff. COMPRENDE? *****!!’

The above is a quotation that I have kept as unaltered as is reasonable and taken directly from a Facebook status. Unfortunately, this is exactly the kind of thing I am usually greeted with each and every day, bar the fact the man’s name (which I’ve edited out here) changes surprisingly often for a ‘happy’ couple. Anyway – I’m not here to snide on people’s lives, comment on the state of the grammar, pick on the overuse of unflattering language, or even to express my deep horror at the ‘comments’ this particular status received - I’m more inclined to talk about our need for attention.

Some may consider it somewhat hypocritical that I should be commenting on the desire for recognition while I am immersing myself in something similar by writing this article, but I assure you I am not a hypocrite because I hereby admit that I like attention as much as the next man. I just like to think my ‘cries’ are in a better, more rounded sort of way than how my Facebook ‘friend’ decides to go about it.

Let’s be honest here, we’re all monkeys. We all evolved upwards and started to think (which, by all means, is where a lot of things started to go wrong) but it’s hard to shake the traits and qualities that evolution granted us. Everyone likes to feel as if they are in some way important, that their particular input is of some significance to ‘The Grand Scheme Of Things’, when in reality, it rarely is. Given the sheer number of people that have inhabited our lonely planet, the percentage of people that have actually made some sort of contribution, good or bad, is demoralising low.

But, unrelentingly, we push and we push in our own little ways to leave something of value behind before we all inevitably die. It is that sort of twisted romanticism that got me hooked on writing in the first place, the idea that words are immortal and that they will communicate beyond the grave - but am I just out of touch? To put it another way, is it now ‘the norm’ to write hideously cringe-worthy paragraphs like my beginning example and to plaster it all over the Internet?

Maybe when the Reaper eventually snatches life away it will be ‘Ye Olde Booke of Face’ that will be quoted from in the final moments before your family and friends bid you farewell, and that the parting sentiment before your body is returned to the Earth from whence it came will be an overwhelming sense of pathos as the gathered remember your inspiring overuse of vulgarities.

I suppose what I’m trying to say, in my typical prolix way, is that letting yourself be portrayed in this fashion is not something you should look to do. A much better way of spending one’s time would be to, I don’t know, get on with it. I’m not interested in your Jeremy Kyle of a life and it’s frankly flabbergasting that anyone else does. Come back to me when you’ve written a quaint little poem or story and I’ll give you the time of day, but LEAVING CAPS LOCK ON is just not a pleasant, or even particularly effective way of getting your point across.

Now, I’m a realist, so I know that absolutely nobody is going to actually take my advice. I’ll log on tomorrow, and I’ll be met with the same tedious thing again and I’ll just sigh and say ‘that’s life’. Oh well. I’d best make the most of it.

last time modified: July 15, 2011, 4 p.m.