We create for ourselves online personas that allow us to present to the world images of what we desire to be. For me, AOL Instant Messenger was what introduced me to this concept that eventually controlled me for a period of time. Away messages were the first incarnation of what has now grown to be the Facebook status update; what I posted as my away message said a lot about who I was. If I were an angsty music kid, I would leave music lyrics that relayed how my parents were the cause of all my problems. If I were laid back and too cool to care, I would leave a simple “bbl” (be back later) message. What I left for others to see defined me, even outside of the online world.
MySpace took this idea to new heights. The profile picture was born, and with it came the ever-existent competition to have the coolest picture with the most comments. Who and what were in your picture, where you took it, how you posed, along with countless other things now mattered. This picture defined you. There was a spot for your “top friends,” and if you maneuvered this improperly, there were real world implications. People could be angry with you because you were not in their “top three,” and friendships were either strengthened or eroded by who was in your coveted “top friend” spot. Of course there were also the surveys you could post to your “about me” section, in which you detail everything cool about yourself. I remember taking the opportunity in one of these surveys to let all my peers know that I, eighth grade Jonathan Kaeser, was at one point in “possession of illicit substances.” This was so I looked cool, mysterious, and more grown up than those who viewed my profile. The truth was I had an older friend whose older sister’s older boyfriend showed me an ounce of marijuana. I never touched the stuff, and it certainly never crossed my mind to smoke it. But, again, what I posted online defined my identity in the real world.
Then high school happened, and the age of Facebook began. We already knew how to play the game: have a cool profile picture, friend your buddies, plug them in to a top friends module, write interesting stuff about yourself in your about me section, etc. Many things, such as top friends and general profile comments eventually wore away, but what really stuck (and what the primary use of Facebook became) were what photos you posted or were tagged in. The idea of a “Facebook photo” became a real thing that people cared about in real life. We would specifically take time to compose good pictures for the sole purpose of being posted on Facebook and getting loads of likes and comments. It was not irregular to hear “Did you see on Facebook [such and such],” and “Oh yeah, I saw that on Facebook.” Romantic relationships were defined by whether or not they were “Facebook official.” Life became a game, and Facebook was the scoreboard.
Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat have recently picked up steam as identity forging powerhouses. Twitter is the mobile status update, Instagram the newest medium to show the world how interesting what you are doing is, and Snapchat builds upon the concept and implications of the profile picture.
These new forms of online identity are also a new form of communication. Social media and the Internet have dramatically changed how human beings interact. We can also communicate over numerous different sources, each of which has been specialized for a certain function. E-mails are accepted as a form of professional communication, while instant messaging is a medium for casual conversation. YouTube allows video communication from one person to the masses, businesses communicate to customers through e-mail subscription lists, and Kickstarter allows inventors, poets, directors, and designers to communicate their ideas and seek funding. The Internet, if nothing else, is a veritable playground of communication resources.
Though incredibly empowering, the omnipresence of the Internet may have its communicative drawbacks. It has arguably made people less gregarious in everyday life. For the entirety of my semi-adult life the Internet has been accessible via the smart phones that seemingly everyone has. Instead of chatting with someone on the bus or in the waiting room, we pull out our cell phones and access the Internet or use some web-based app. We have become more insular, only affording regular conversation to those whom we know, whether they are physically present or not. We are more willing to engage with strangers online than we are in real life.
The Internet, with all its pros and all its cons, has ushered in a communication boom. We now regularly communicate in ways that were previously impossible. All manner of barriers have been broken down because of this boom. People we were previously incapable of sending a message to can now possibly hear what we have to say. Our ideas can be spread out across a vast digital landscape for anyone to hear. To be sure, we are living in a communication renaissance.
MySpace took this idea to new heights. The profile picture was born, and with it came the ever-existent competition to have the coolest picture with the most comments. Who and what were in your picture, where you took it, how you posed, along with countless other things now mattered. This picture defined you. There was a spot for your “top friends,” and if you maneuvered this improperly, there were real world implications. People could be angry with you because you were not in their “top three,” and friendships were either strengthened or eroded by who was in your coveted “top friend” spot. Of course there were also the surveys you could post to your “about me” section, in which you detail everything cool about yourself. I remember taking the opportunity in one of these surveys to let all my peers know that I, eighth grade Jonathan Kaeser, was at one point in “possession of illicit substances.” This was so I looked cool, mysterious, and more grown up than those who viewed my profile. The truth was I had an older friend whose older sister’s older boyfriend showed me an ounce of marijuana. I never touched the stuff, and it certainly never crossed my mind to smoke it. But, again, what I posted online defined my identity in the real world.
Then high school happened, and the age of Facebook began. We already knew how to play the game: have a cool profile picture, friend your buddies, plug them in to a top friends module, write interesting stuff about yourself in your about me section, etc. Many things, such as top friends and general profile comments eventually wore away, but what really stuck (and what the primary use of Facebook became) were what photos you posted or were tagged in. The idea of a “Facebook photo” became a real thing that people cared about in real life. We would specifically take time to compose good pictures for the sole purpose of being posted on Facebook and getting loads of likes and comments. It was not irregular to hear “Did you see on Facebook [such and such],” and “Oh yeah, I saw that on Facebook.” Romantic relationships were defined by whether or not they were “Facebook official.” Life became a game, and Facebook was the scoreboard.
Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat have recently picked up steam as identity forging powerhouses. Twitter is the mobile status update, Instagram the newest medium to show the world how interesting what you are doing is, and Snapchat builds upon the concept and implications of the profile picture.
These new forms of online identity are also a new form of communication. Social media and the Internet have dramatically changed how human beings interact. We can also communicate over numerous different sources, each of which has been specialized for a certain function. E-mails are accepted as a form of professional communication, while instant messaging is a medium for casual conversation. YouTube allows video communication from one person to the masses, businesses communicate to customers through e-mail subscription lists, and Kickstarter allows inventors, poets, directors, and designers to communicate their ideas and seek funding. The Internet, if nothing else, is a veritable playground of communication resources.
Though incredibly empowering, the omnipresence of the Internet may have its communicative drawbacks. It has arguably made people less gregarious in everyday life. For the entirety of my semi-adult life the Internet has been accessible via the smart phones that seemingly everyone has. Instead of chatting with someone on the bus or in the waiting room, we pull out our cell phones and access the Internet or use some web-based app. We have become more insular, only affording regular conversation to those whom we know, whether they are physically present or not. We are more willing to engage with strangers online than we are in real life.
The Internet, with all its pros and all its cons, has ushered in a communication boom. We now regularly communicate in ways that were previously impossible. All manner of barriers have been broken down because of this boom. People we were previously incapable of sending a message to can now possibly hear what we have to say. Our ideas can be spread out across a vast digital landscape for anyone to hear. To be sure, we are living in a communication renaissance.
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