I've decided to take a break from Facebook. Whilst not quite ready to totally obliterate all my data and settings from the site, I've taken the step of 'deactivating' the account, which essentially just makes me vanish from the Facebook world.
So why? Why take this seemingly drastic step? Must admit, I do feel a bit like a counter-culture maverick, flying in the face of all contemporary logic, so I think it's only fair I set out my personal reasons for going down this route. My guess is that, as a minimum, you'll empathise with my reasoning, or perhaps you'll even agree with everything I say. I'm genuinely curious to hear your thoughts, so please add a comment below. OK, here goes :
Reassessing my definition of 'friendship'. Just like everyone else, I have friends and I have family. If I take a step back from Facebook and ask myself who are my friends, my list is going to be a subset of the 100-odd 'friends' I've accumulated on the site. I'd say a third of the total, at most.
So what do I mean by a 'friend', or more to the point, what do I want the definition to be (remembering the old cliché that we choose our friends, unlike our family)? Well, for me, a friend is someone who I am still actively engaged with - ie. someone who I see, visit, call, text, email or IM on a regular or fairly regular basis. They're the ones with whom I can pick up where I left off, no matter how much time has passed. They're the ones who don't need a status update on Facebook to tell them what's going on in my life, and vice versa. It's not that all the other people don't have some meaning for me, more that they are part of my past. Why should I continue to engage with my past if I have no intention of actually seeing those people anywhere outside my computer screen? So, my decision is partly based on a wish to focus on family and the friends I am actively engaging with in the present.
Too much Social Media noise. I've been on a drive to simplify my life in 2011. Somewhat challenging my efforts has been the explosion in hype around Social Media, forever encouraging me to sign-up and share. It all gets a bit overwhelming. I don't remember ever posting a status update on Facebook. For a long time now I've been finding the brilliant simplicity of Twitter suits me far better, and so I simply instructed Twitter to send my tweets to Facebook as status updates, so I didn't have to do both. Twitter wins because it's a fantastic networking tool and the 140 character limit (pure genius) ensures it is easily digestible. I like it so much that I have two accounts - one personal, and one professional, and am constantly fed useful information about what interests me. Compare and contrast this with Facebook status updates which I'm forced to receive from all my 'friends'. De-friending, the equivalent of un-following on Twitter, is mired in all sorts of etiquette complexity, so it ends up being like family - the friends you didn't choose. See where I'm going here?
The irony is that the first thing everyone pokes fun at Twitter for is the status updates where people describe what they had for lunch, but I'm more likely to see that kind of thing on my Facebook feed (wow, puns all over the place). Tweeting what you had for lunch is Twitter for beginners. If you use the service more constructively it's capable of so much more, and again, you choose who you follow with much greater freedom to stop following than you'll ever feel with a Facebook friend.
So that's Twitter. Then there are the other social networks that serve a purpose for me. LinkedIn has proved a simple yet powerful tool for collating the professional contacts I've made and continue to make. It's also very handy for keeping an eye on what other employment opportunities are out there, should my current employer no longer tick all my career boxes.
And finally, there's the new kid on the block, Google+. I fear in time it may end up much like Facebook has become, but right now it feels like a lighter option, and crucially, one which I feel properly in control of. So when I want to post more than 140 characters, Google+, or indeed here on Wordpress, will be the place I turn.
Facebook is simply at the bottom of the pile. Not without its uses, but the one that's easiest for me to drop.
Facebook Irritation. Do I need to spell it out? I think you know precisely what I'm talking about. For as long as I can remember, there's been something or other irritating me about the site. They change things - all the time! I've become accustomed to rapid change in the internet age, but if it's confusing change which forces you to go and re-check your settings and wonder where things have gone, then it's change going backwards. It perpetually feels like beta software. Facebook always gives me this nasty feeling that something isn't set the way it should be, so I don't feel in control of what's on there about me and who is seeing it. I don't feel I can trust the company with all that data. 18 months after the iPad launched there's STILL no proper client. I don't know. I'm rambling. But Facebook has a way of making me feel like a mouse being continuously experimented on, a commodity. Let's be honest, Facebook users ARE commodities for that profit-making business.
Facebook is NOT the Internet. I'm old enough to have seen the whole genesis of the Internet, and experienced the thrill of the wild west, as I and others learned of the limitless potential of this network of networks. To this day I am still regularly reminded how truly awesome the Internet is - possibly the greatest invention since the Gutenberg press. What I love about it is that, in essence, it all boils down to a computer network running standards-based protocols which anyone can use as they see fit. Now along comes this phenomenon called Facebook. It aspires to somehow become the Internet. A portal beyond which you never need venture. All your communication needs are covered, so why go to any other site? As a child of www, I'm not at all happy to see advertisers using, for example, facebook.com/brandname, rather than www.brandname.com. In essence, I don't want to see one huge corporation making the World Wide Web irrelevant. The freedom of the Internet has led to strong competition and rapid innovation. It's not difficult to guess what will happen to those benefits if one company subsumes all in its path. No thank you. I don't want to be part of that future. The Internet is a public place with limitless potential, not a closed proprietary garden the great Zuckerberg designs for our 'benefit'.
Privacy. I've left this one till last, though for many it would be their first issue with Facebook. The truth is, I don't have that much to hide (at least that I'm aware of), and I'm not that bothered about people knowing me fully. I guess I'm comfortable in my own skin. The mere fact I'm happy to stay on other social networks should attest to that. But let's assume I was more 'normal' and actually quite concerned about maintaining my privacy. Well, this flies completely in the face of the whole Facebook ethos. Zuckerberg wants us to share our entire lives online and sees no reason why any of us should hide anything. Indeed, the site is about to launch Timelines, encouraging us to go back to our birthdate and fill in as much detail as possible about our lives. By doing so, we would be simply feeding the Facebook machine with more and more ammunition to use for its financial gain - enabling more and more targeted advertising and more and more delicate social situations. Just imagine! Not for me, thanks. It just doesn't sit well in my stomach.
OK, I've gone on long enough. A lot of the things I don't like about Facebook can be ignored or overcome with a little effort, so it would be wrong to discourage others from using it if they're comfortable or enjoy doing so. Hell, I may even return myself at some point, but for now I'm going to experiment with life outside, the way it was just 7 years ago, and see how it goes. No doubt I'll miss some fun stuff. No doubt I'll feel a bit of an outsider. But for now, at least, it's time to take a break, and something tells me I'll survive just fine without it. In the meantime, you can find my Twitter feed and Google+ details over on the right of this page.
Please share your thoughts and reactions - I'm interested to hear what you think.
Tuesday 4 October 2011
Saturday 14 May 2011
RIP Audio Cassettes
Inspired by several blogs (like this one and this one) on the topic of downsizing, I decided a long time ago to gradually digitise all the media in my house - Vinyl, Audio Cassettes, VHS Cassettes, DVDs, CDs, Photos. The advent of enormous hard disks makes this achievable, although it's no mean feat, believe me.
I'm pointing out the obvious, but the issue is that all the analogue stuff (all but the DVDs and CDs) has to be digitised in 'real time', which means playing every record, every cassette, every videotape and turning it into ones and zeroes as you go. No big deal for the odd few here and there, but when you're talking about a lifetime's worth of accumulated media it's nothing short of a marathon task.
Today I finally finished the audio cassettes, and I think the task has taken on-and-off around 2 years to complete (believe me, there's only so much of this you can do in one go without going bonkers). Each file was ripped to MP4 (a bit like MP3, but better) and now sits amongst the countless thousands of other files in my iTunes Library. iTunes tells me there are 144 cassette recordings, constituting 3.8 days of continuous recording. That's quite a big chunk of my free time, and remember, I had to be on-hand the whole time to flip the cassette over, start and stop the recording and label each file before I forgot what it was.
What a palava! Why am I bothering? Well, it's all in the name of downsizing the amount of
So, today I hurled the last batch of tapes into the dustbin and kissed goodbye to a media format which has been in my life for more than three decades. Of course the reality is that I won't miss them much now they're gone, but there's no escaping the fact there are countless memories bound-up in all those miles and miles of magnetised tape, and it's amazing how clear the flashbacks are associated with each and every one of them. There were the ones from the 70s, compilation tapes which my Dad created, himself recording from vinyl to tape in real-time. Each was meticulously labelled and every song therein noted down on a little piece of paper slipped inside the case. There were the pre-recorded ones that survived (I swear most were designed to self-destruct after a few plays), like Madness' Absolutely, Yazoo's Upstairs at Erics, The Cure's Faith. In some cases I can actually recall moments when I was playing those cassettes and where I was at the time. In the case of the Madness cassette it was on one of those very early Sony Walkmans - this exact one in fact, and I was standing on the platform of Ipswich station, waiting for a train to Bury St Edmunds.
Then there's the eponymous MixTape. Creating a mixtape for someone, a collection of favourites for a relative, or a collection of meaningful songs with subliminal (but more often rather more overt) messages you wanted to convey, was truly something special. A gesture with meaning, personal, thoughtful. Even more special, in the days before Skype, the tapes where your girlfriend recorded her own voice, interspersed with a few of her favourite songs. It's hard to get much more personal than that.
I was always a Japanese tape manufacturer kind of guy. It had to be TDK, Sony or Maxell for me, and sure enough, every one of those cassettes stood the test of time and held their contents reliably over the decades so that one-day, totally unforeseen when they began their journeys in life, they could be played for one last time and fed into a computer where they would take up 0.00002% of a hard disk about the size of 4 tape cases!
But back to the memories, and here's the BIG problem with digital media, there's simply no way a file on iTunes can evoke memories the way one of these lovely old formats can. If I'm lucky my strange but remarkably effective memory for useless information will recall the cassette and then the memory associated with that cassette when I listen to those files. However there's no tactile experience, nothing unique about each file apart from the order and quantity of ones and zeroes. There's no soul. I remember thinking the same when CDs came along and displaced vinyl LPs. Lost now is the pleasure of putting a record on and sitting back with the album cover to read and enjoy the artwork and sleeve notes. In a way it's sad that the younger generations who've grown up in the digital era will never be able to attach memories to the unique carriers of their music, since there are no unique carriers anymore. The closest they have is which model of iPod they were using when they heard this song, or that song. Progress?
As I write this I can hear the reader asking - so why get rid of all these memory-prompters then? Well, it's a question of weighing-up the pros and the cons, and about a wider philosophical reasoning to do with letting go of the past and lightening the burden of 'stuff' we carry through our lives, but again, I'll save that for another post.
For now I just want to mark the day the last audio cassette left my house, and left my life. RIP Audio Cassettes.
Sunday 24 April 2011
Day trip to Hastings
Celebrating my bike's 2nd birthday, I decided to make the most of the glorious (and very un-April-like) weather and ride down to the coast. After a look at the map, the place that jumped-out at me was Hastings, which I'd not visited before.
So, off I went, having packed less 'bikey' clothes to change into on arrival. My route took me down the A22 via East Grinstead and Polegate, a rather dull route due to all the low speed limits and town traffic. Before long I hit the coast at Norman's Bay, just west of Bexhill. Arriving at the coast I was greeted with the cooler, fresher air you'd expect, and the usual sight of Brits turning varying shades of red. Here was a thin strip of beach huts, basking in bright coastal light with tantalising glimpses of the sea beyond.
A little further on I finally arrived in Hastings after an uninspiring, slow ride along the uninspiring sea front, which goes on a long way. My usual approach is to ride the full length and then turn round to return to what looks like the best part, but this tactic doesn't work so well when there IS no discernible best part, and so it was in Hastings. Instead I was greeted with a very long row of tired buildings with fading paint and rusting metalwork, car parks full of seagull-crap-covered cars, and the occasional ice cream van.
I eventually parked at the eastern end of the town, at which point I realised I was slap-bang in the middle of the bucket-and-spade quarter. All around me were the bright colours of visitor 'attractions', the noises massed-groupings of Brits make when at the seaside, and a disarmingly high number of scooter boys.
What is it with scooter boys? What is it about scooters? Can't say I'll ever understand why quite large, ageing men would choose to ride miniature motorbikes more akin to hairdryers, with tiny wheels and tiny horsepowers. Bizarre. A reminder that we live in a very diverse world.
Clearly Hastings is not a wealthy town. Certainly, the east end looks like an abandoned building site with bizarre multi-storey huts, crumbling shacks and scattered rusting boats on the shoreline. And then you stumble on a sign like this...
Sometimes words are simply not enough to explain ones reaction to what one sees!
Some sustenance was called for, and after walking past at least a dozen seafood outlets and tourist eateries, I spotted an interesting looking corner cafe. It turned out to be a Turkish place and I was immediately drawn to their 'hot and cold meze'. A very good choice that was - delicious and with flavours which immediately transported me off to that part of the world.
Duly refuelled, I headed off up the steep hill behind onto what's known locally as the West Hill. I was hoping to get a look at the castle there, but it was mysteriously closed with locked gates and no explanation as to why I couldn't go take a look. Well, it was gone 5pm by this time, so I guess it had closed for the day. Ho hum.
In any case, the climb up the hill was more than worth it for the fabulous views I was rewarded with. It's not hard to see how this place had such significance as a defensive position, with its excellent views out across The Channel towards France. I've no doubt our Gallic neighbours would be clearly visible on a clearer, less hazy day so we could blow our noses in their general direction from the castle parapet. Sitting on the edge of the hill, quietly overlooking the touristy town below was this man and his dog...
If ever I needed a reminder of why I want a dog so much, this was it. They looked so bonded, sitting quietly just watching the world go by. Certainly different to the dogs I grew up with (Irish Setters), who had an innate inability to sit still for more than 3 seconds!
After that it was back down the hill and back to the bike for the ride home. I have to say I wasn't hugely impressed with Hastings. It's clearly a place with a lot of potential for a great day out, but it's sorely let down by dirt, litter, and many of the visitors who really bring the place down. It feels cheap and a bit tacky, which is such a shame given the historical significance of the town. Can't say I'll be in a hurry to return, but I'm glad I went and took a look.
The run back up to London went smoothly and progressively, along the A21 up to Sevenoaks and then around the M25 in the late afternoon showers set off by the heat of the day. The bike's now done well over 10,000 miles and has certainly earned its big service.
So, off I went, having packed less 'bikey' clothes to change into on arrival. My route took me down the A22 via East Grinstead and Polegate, a rather dull route due to all the low speed limits and town traffic. Before long I hit the coast at Norman's Bay, just west of Bexhill. Arriving at the coast I was greeted with the cooler, fresher air you'd expect, and the usual sight of Brits turning varying shades of red. Here was a thin strip of beach huts, basking in bright coastal light with tantalising glimpses of the sea beyond.
A little further on I finally arrived in Hastings after an uninspiring, slow ride along the uninspiring sea front, which goes on a long way. My usual approach is to ride the full length and then turn round to return to what looks like the best part, but this tactic doesn't work so well when there IS no discernible best part, and so it was in Hastings. Instead I was greeted with a very long row of tired buildings with fading paint and rusting metalwork, car parks full of seagull-crap-covered cars, and the occasional ice cream van.
I eventually parked at the eastern end of the town, at which point I realised I was slap-bang in the middle of the bucket-and-spade quarter. All around me were the bright colours of visitor 'attractions', the noises massed-groupings of Brits make when at the seaside, and a disarmingly high number of scooter boys.
What is it with scooter boys? What is it about scooters? Can't say I'll ever understand why quite large, ageing men would choose to ride miniature motorbikes more akin to hairdryers, with tiny wheels and tiny horsepowers. Bizarre. A reminder that we live in a very diverse world.
Clearly Hastings is not a wealthy town. Certainly, the east end looks like an abandoned building site with bizarre multi-storey huts, crumbling shacks and scattered rusting boats on the shoreline. And then you stumble on a sign like this...
Sometimes words are simply not enough to explain ones reaction to what one sees!
Some sustenance was called for, and after walking past at least a dozen seafood outlets and tourist eateries, I spotted an interesting looking corner cafe. It turned out to be a Turkish place and I was immediately drawn to their 'hot and cold meze'. A very good choice that was - delicious and with flavours which immediately transported me off to that part of the world.
Duly refuelled, I headed off up the steep hill behind onto what's known locally as the West Hill. I was hoping to get a look at the castle there, but it was mysteriously closed with locked gates and no explanation as to why I couldn't go take a look. Well, it was gone 5pm by this time, so I guess it had closed for the day. Ho hum.
In any case, the climb up the hill was more than worth it for the fabulous views I was rewarded with. It's not hard to see how this place had such significance as a defensive position, with its excellent views out across The Channel towards France. I've no doubt our Gallic neighbours would be clearly visible on a clearer, less hazy day so we could blow our noses in their general direction from the castle parapet. Sitting on the edge of the hill, quietly overlooking the touristy town below was this man and his dog...
If ever I needed a reminder of why I want a dog so much, this was it. They looked so bonded, sitting quietly just watching the world go by. Certainly different to the dogs I grew up with (Irish Setters), who had an innate inability to sit still for more than 3 seconds!
After that it was back down the hill and back to the bike for the ride home. I have to say I wasn't hugely impressed with Hastings. It's clearly a place with a lot of potential for a great day out, but it's sorely let down by dirt, litter, and many of the visitors who really bring the place down. It feels cheap and a bit tacky, which is such a shame given the historical significance of the town. Can't say I'll be in a hurry to return, but I'm glad I went and took a look.
The run back up to London went smoothly and progressively, along the A21 up to Sevenoaks and then around the M25 in the late afternoon showers set off by the heat of the day. The bike's now done well over 10,000 miles and has certainly earned its big service.
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