Purposeful Living

At this moment, there are more people online on Facebook than there were in the world less than 200 years ago… The impact that this world-renowned site is having on today’s adolescents is one of extreme detriment, and has turned our cyberworld into an invincible, addictive, fickle, and futile online realm. Facebook is a dictator, a hierarchy, and an esteem sucker, which categorises teenagers and promotes social suicide, rather than social networking.

Today’s youth are constantly bombarded with endless contradicting advice. One moment we’re told to “be ourselves,” and the next we’re denied of this freedom with television and magazines encouraging otherwise. Similarly, Facebook takes society’s alleged notion of accepting individuality and destroys it. For the average teenage girl there is an ideal profile that she is forced to aspire to fit. There is net lingo that must be learnt, with constant expressions being added to the expected vocabulary of the average teen. From photos to status updates, nothing can be lame, or have the potential to be scorned. It is a wonder there has not been a Facebook Bible produced that we must adhere to as a generation… It extends as far as to how you should “pop up” to someone. Naturally, you don’t want to always be the person to initiate the pop-up. At first it was cool to say “Heyy”, with two y’s. Then it became two e’s, “Heey”, and for a while you’d ask someone “sup” to which they’d reply, “nm”. As far as I’m concerned, this is not a conversation.

The uploading of photos is an art in itself, or so it seems. First of all, the photo has to be appropriate. And by appropriate I don’t mean in a conservative skirt at  an awesome landmark. I mean, either, posing in heavy makeup and a short skirt with a sultry pout, or a lovely filtered snap of your breakfast.

I am going to post some photos of me at the bottom when I was younger, when I took photos of weird things, just some genuine photos that were not taken to serve the demands of followers. I also challenge you, to not share your photos, tag yourselves or your friends (YES I can tell that your friend does not feature in that particular photo), or religiously stare at your computer screen, fixated on watching the likes slowly accumulate on a new upload. Send me any photos of food that tasted wonderful, or any photos of you and your friends that capture a sincerely happy moment.

Facebook is now the place where relationships begin, where friendships are formed, where misinterpretations craft conflict and where people develop a reputation. In the past, interactions such as these occurred face to face or through the telephone or mail. These days, almost every teenager has access to this vast cyberworld, and in this new environment the rules are still being written. You can be anyone behind your computer, and so many are seizing the available occupation of keyboard warrior. Facebook has been blamed for causing the onset of mental illness, suicide, unsafe relationships, fraud, privacy issues and addiction to the site itself; and rightly so.

Think about how many fights you’ve had with your friends that have been initiated online, that occurred online, or were caused because of something they witnessed or misinterpreted online. I know that for me, it has created a lot of unrest in certain friendships.

Facebook gives anyone the ability to be someone they’re not, and that is ultimately what is occurring.  It is a form of social conformity that is changing the way our generation behaves. I detest it, but I am no better. I openly have Facebook, to not solely keep in touch with old friends but because it is like a drug. Once you’re hooked on it, it’s an inexpensive and hard habit to break. I love having access to so much information in an instant, and being able to see so much in a single website. But I know deep down that Facebook is dangerous, and it’s harming our generation. It is starting to be the only thing we do; the purpose of our lives.

On one hand; you can’t afford to not have it. As that’s where people talk, where you meet new people, where you are invited to parties and gatherings, where your friends upload the photos you took together. We have become lazy - we can’t print out disposable pictures because it’s too much of an effort. We can’t pick up the home phone and call someone, because it’s easier to type them a message. We can’t mail invitations to our friends, because half the time we don’t even know their address.

It would be okay if no one had Facebook – but seeing as they do – you become an outsider without it.

Recall the last time you received a letter or card, that wasn’t from a relative or for your birthday… If you have received one in recent months, I think you’d agree with me in saying how special it was to get something that had “thought” put into it. It has become rare for people to give each other handwriting on paper. And that’s sad in itself. Perhaps consider doing something sweet for one of your friends. Grab a piece of paper and a nice coloured pen and just write them a simple note telling them something you like about them. This gesture will go so much further than a “like for a like” on their metaphoric wall.

What is more appalling is how people think that typing “HB” on someone’s timeline constitutes wishing someone a Happy Birthday. This requires next to no effort. I’ve stopped posting on people’s walls for their birthday. It doesn’t mean anything to them, and it just goes to show how little I care that they are having a happy birthday.

It sounds like such a huge assumption and generalisation, but it is honestly adversely affecting the bulk of my generation. Facebook has a couple of really great points to it, but when it strikes it is lethal. It is a site with harmless intentions but when available to temperamental teenagers it becomes the ability to stalk, bully, compare and lie, disguised within a website. I hope that one day it will not consume our lives as much as it currently does. It’s time we start living real life.  

I don’t want to be a lame challenge person but I think I have to do this regardless. My friend Lucy said to me, “Annie it is all well and good you speaking the truth, and voicing your opinion about social media. But I am often what you describe, and maybe you can offer up some solutions”.

And she is right, most of us have contemplated the detriments of social media at one point in our lives. And I want to try and actually make a change, rather than just make people aware.

Think about how many of your Facebook friends are actually your friends.

First look at the number of friends you have. How many do you have? 800? 1700? 2300? 950? 300? I can confirm right now that I have 446 Facebook friends. All of which I know. I myself, once had about 900 - thinking it was cool, that it didn’t matter if I didn’t know certain people, and that it would help me get more likes.

I once had someone say to me, surely you do not really have 900 friends… And they were right, I didn’t.

Then I used this question to decide which ones I would delete:
To each person I said – If I were to see you in Chatswood and walk past you, would we acknowledge each other and would I say hi?

If the answer was a blatant or hesitant no and I was thinking about how awkward it would be or that I’d avoid an interaction, I deleted this person. Now, if I go to a gathering and meet people there and don’t say more than hello I’m Annie nice to meet you, I do not accept their friend request when I am home. Because believe it or not, someone being aware of my name, and me of theirs - does not make us instantaneously friends!

You’d be surprised at how many people you really don’t know, but think you do, just because you see their day-to-day activity on Facebook.
Try taking a look at your Facebook now, it's probably open in the tab next to you. Why must you have all these people viewing your every move on the internet? Deleting the unnecessary people could make you a step closer to caring less about your uploads/status'. 

Also, consider just trialling what your life would be like without Facebook. It is very easy to deactivate your account (you do not lose anything when you do this). I have deleted my Facebook on a few occasions, and tend to deactivate it around exam periods too. I can honestly swear that my life has drastically improved during these times. I had time to read books. I didn’t fight as much with my parents as I wasn’t slamming my door in their face telling them to get out so I could continue analysing my newsfeed. I went to bed at 9.00 pm, something that I never did because I was always chatting to people late at night. I wasn’t worried about how skinny so and so looked in her latest DP, or how many likes another girl got over me. Nor was I concerned with looking at ex-boyfriends Facebook moves (we’ve all done some FB stalking in our lives, come on). So if you can bear to be disconnected for even a week, I encourage you to give it a go.

Instagram is possibly just as bad. It has become perhaps even more widely used than Facebook in recent months. Instagram in a way is more competitive, as it has only a single purpose: to upload photos. In this respect, it is an app defined by image, appearance and aesthetics. It is a bit of a competition, where people boast their newly purchased designer clothes, the most radical fro-yo, and their costumes for a Saturday night party. The worst thing is – every photo is rated.

Maybe Instagram would be okay if you couldn’t like or comment photos. I wish that was an option, to just be able to upload a photo for the pleasure of people to view it, rather than for the affirmations via likes that we crave so badly. I have had friends message me asking my advice on an Instagram upload of theirs, and if they should perhaps delete it. They were so concerned about the likes they received in a certain amount of time. Seriously – there are so many more important things to worry about than working out the rate of likes per minute.

I deleted my Instagram about a month ago and it was a great decision. I had about 130 photos, and 580 followers. Again, I was uploading photos to satisfy people I didn’t know, and I had the app to see who had un-followed me, and I found myself taking photos solely for the purpose of later uploading them. I can honestly say that I do not miss it. I don’t miss seeing what other people ate. I don’t miss seeing photos of sunsets. I didn’t need Instagram, all it truly did was make me jealous, insecure and obsessive. I received about 8 texts from different people demanding to know why I had unfollowed them. This just goes to show how conscious people are of their followers, and how worked up they can get if someone unfollows them. One of my friends explained to me the other day what an “Instafag” is. And I have to say, the definition (someone who takes photos of say, leaves, water, or a meal, for the sole purpose of uploading it to “Insta” as it is nicknamed), couldn’t be closer to the truth. I don’t particularly like the word “fag” but really, the people who do this are quite lame, and perhaps are deserving of this expression.

I challenge you to delete the app that enables you to see who unfollowed you, if you have it. Don’t be concerned with how many people are following you, as hard as that may seem. In real life there is no way to measure true friends, and realistically - a leader can’t count their followers. So neither should you. 

 

PRESSURE

The pressure that I live with is insane. And I know that almost every single one of my friends live with this similar pressure.
Can you remember the last time you felt genuinely relaxed?
The last time you weren’t anticipating your plans for the weekend?
The last time you’d finished all of your schoolwork, were on good terms with all your friends, and felt content with your appearance and body?

We are always striving, and never succeeding quite enough. There’s always something more to do, we have to be thinner and smarter and more tanned, we have to have more followers, more clothes, and more meals at Armchair Collective.

The expectations from our parents are usually very high, and this is fair enough. I feel very fortunate to live where I do and go to school where I do, and with the amount of things my parents have given and invested to me, I feel an obligation to give back to them. As a result, however, I’m always quite stressed. Maybe it would be manageable if I only had to get a good night’s sleep, study hard, clean my room, play a sport, have a part-time job and spend Sunday nights with my family. Even that is a lot on its own, but when you add in the pressure from boys and peers to be excelling in social areas too, it becomes virtually impossible to be both happy and in control.

 I once felt pressure to be thin, to be tanned, to have perfect skin, no regrowth, to go out once on the weekend to either a party or a gathering and to upload the correct amount of photos (of course at primetime, with the most innovative caption, perhaps in another language). I am a little over a year away from finishing school. And still, people are so concerned with these things. I highly doubt my friends at Uni or people I meet when I travel will care that one Sunday I had fresh muesli and that I have 500 Instagram followers... I've realised that I should be living my life for myself, not for the purpose of satisfying others' watchful expectations.

I think that unfortunately, social media and the media in general have melded and projected this image of a perfect woman, in terms of physical appearance. And our generation has taken this image, and set it as the norm. For girls, we need to be thin, (often in reality this is underweight), but we need to have big boobs and a “nice ass”. We need to have flawless skin and popping eyes and plump lips, but too much make-up gets you called a cake-face. We need to wear the correct clothes from Glue, Tigerlily, and Zimmermann, but we get criticised for showing too much cleavage. What I’m trying to say is, that there is a very fine line in being able to fulfil everyone’s expectations, and not receive disapproval.

Popularity, defined by a dictionary is: the state or condition of being liked, admired, or supported by many people. I think it is a very difficult word to pinpoint, as it can really be interpreted in many ways. Popular for being kind-hearted, is not what we would consider the definition today. I would probably say that someone is described as popular if she or he has many Instagram followers, over 200/300 likes on their photos, who is generally quite thin, buff or attractive, generally appears in most photos of big parties and who’s name is recognised by many people. It is disgusting to think that people measure popularity on the amount of people that have clicked the “like” button on the Internet, or the centimetres between each of their legs. But it is us that have coined this definition, and us who continue to let it apply to these people who really have done very little to be admired or worshipped in such a way that they are. I listen to the conversations of my peers at lunch and they are discussing the things they saw on the newsfeed the night before, or they ask one another, “omg did you see that photo of her?” We are so judgemental and it is honestly lame how concerned we are with other people’s business.
It has gotten to the point where the purpose of our lives is to do things, wear things and say things, in the hope of impressing others.

We all need a bloody reality check. I will say it: ACAI DOES NOT TASTE GOOD, nor does organic quinoa chia seeds drenched in overnight fatfree soy milk from Mickey’s Café in Paddington. We take photos of our meals instead of enjoying them. We take photos of our outfits and makeup before a party so that people know where we are going tonight. We caption our photos in Spanish with II lines and semi-colans, and an emoji that hasn’t resurfaced for a while. We share our photos – WHY! Why can we not see how vain it is? Oh but we do. Hence why we get our friends to share our photos, or we upload them at a time where enough of our Facebook friends will see it, and godforbid we go to TAG OURSELVES in our own photos. Could I just take a minute to say thank you, honestly I would never have guessed with your name on your profile and a photo of you, that you were the one in the photo. Really, thanks for that clarification.

We are getting to the point where the youth of our generation are skipping the awkward stage. I myself, wore clothes from Target, Supre, Equip and Piping Hot long before I heard about the cool labels within General Pants. My sister's grade, two years below me, insisted on buying seafolly bikinis and glasshouse candles, Tiffany jewellery and Raybans sunglasses whilst at their age I settled for some diva bangles and a speedo tankini.

And the worst part is, that we go out and slave in these underpaid jobs just so we can buy a dress that we can wear once. Yes, that’s right – once. Why? Because there is bloody photographic proof wherever we go. You couldn’t be caught dead in the same dress to a party within two months. Everyone would notice and comment. This extends as far as to wearing the same colour to two formals. Are you serious? It is a shade of cloth for god’s sake. 10 years ago, I wouldn’t have to worry about what girls wore to their Sceggs, Monte, PLC and Wenona formal’s. Now I wouldn’t even buy the same dress as someone, for fear of someone noticing, and either comparing that girl and me or accusing me of copying her.

I hate how I have to share these thoughts with you on social media. It is so ironic that I have to promote a post about social media on social media.

We all need a massive reality check. Let’s upload photos of comfy joggers and a good old ham and cheese sandwich. Let’s share funny youtube videos instead of music by Alt-j or whatever random letters that band has put together as a title. 

It infuriates me that it is so easy to change our nasty habits, yet we only have ourselves to blame. I challenge you to change one thing that you admitted you do whilst reading this. Whether this if finding a cool Instagram about me message, or commenting on people’s photos in the hope to get a comment back, or spending $900 on a few hours at one formal. Don’t put the corner of a Vogue magazine in the corner of the photo of your breakfast, eat it! Go to a café with your friends and order 9 hashbrowns and some bacon instead of an organic guava and wheatgrass juice. Who are we fooling really?

Annie

any questions, you can message me at www.musing--s.tumblr.com

Some thoughts

I guarantee this post will trigger contemplation and I would appreciate beyond belief if you read this, whoever you are.

I have this feeling that has been bugging me for a couple of years now, niggling away, and I think I’ve finally realised what it is.

I detest social media. I despise it because it ruined my life at one point, and because I see it ruining both my friends and my generation as a whole. And I’m reminded of this constantly. A conversation with three friends and my sister the other day at lunchtime really got me thinking.

What the hell are we doing?!

We are wasting out adolescent years and at this rate, our childhood too, living in an intangible, fictional online realm.

Our purpose as teenagers now is to create and uphold an online image by competing with our peers across the rest of the North Shore in grades both above and below us.

I am filled with fury and regret and pity and disturbance when I think of how close social media was to destroying me as person, and how I have seen it destroy others.

I feel obliged to explain why, and I don’t intend for this to be any kind of sob story because I do not want any pity or sympathy, or if it comes to it, praise.

I went to a public primary school and in Year 6, I had many guy friends. I had my first proper kiss at the age of about 11, and I kissed many guys in my grade during our games of spin the bottles in the playground and at band camps.

I eventually made it to high school, where in year 7, I was determined to be friends with the people my cousin had described to me as “popular.” Of course, I had a Myspace account, which was considered quite “cool” at this time.

I remember before I even began my first day as Year 7, I had netball tryouts with the girls that were soon to be my peers. I remember sitting there on the gym stairs, resolute in my attempt to make a name for myself on that day. Somehow the conversation was directed to the area of boys, boyfriends and kissing. By the end of the 3 hour tryouts I had told about 15 girls that I had hooked up with a boy named Darcy for 20 minutes at my year 6 dance and that he even felt my breasts. I had absolutely no realisation that that single confession had me heading on a downward spiral.  

The next incident occurred at year 7 Camp, week 3 of term 1. I barely new 5 people’s names, let alone enough about them to trust them. I was prompted by a girl who asked me more about Darcy. Again I told the story, and soon enough I had a crowd surrounding me. With the attention I gained some confidence. I said I loved him, and told them all what happened, not very much really. I was still innocent but I was obviously at a point where I was sexually inquisitive and I’ve realised now that feeling that way is nothing to be ashamed of. We all are, I guess I just acted on it more than others chose to.

From that camp, I suddenly had a reputation amongst my peers. And it wasn’t a positive one. I was called a slut, called disgusting, people were gossiping about me behind my backs because I had kissed a boy. My lips touching another person’s lips and it was as if someone had died. But to be fair, someone has to be the first girl to be gossiped about. Someone has to be the first one to have a boyfriend or to do this and that. And that is how I look at it now, I was that person and in the end I came out fine.

The year continued on and I had very few friends. Most of my friends were in fact people outside of school who I met on the Internet. I would go to Chatswood shopping centre on the weekends and hang out with people who had as cool a Myspace profile as me. People, I knew nothing about.
I had three boyfriends in that first year. Sure they didn’t pick me up on dates in their cars, but we spoke a lot through text and we went to the LAV dances together and we kissed. ¾ of the way into year 7 I’d romantically felt for about 4 or 5 guys in my life. Which implies that they were idiotic and immature relationships, but one wasn’t.

Then one Saturday, I met the guy who was to be my boyfriend for the following five months. This boy was far more innocent that I was. Regardless, we soon believed that we were in love with each other and to this day, I still think if it wasn’t love, it was a deep and caring friendship, while it lasted. This boy and I did everything together and had a pretty lame summer romance. I don’t want to drag this on longer than it needs to, but I went away with my family on a big holiday, and when I came back, he had been speaking to other girls on Facebook, (yes we’d migrated to Facebook by now,) and he dumped me the morning I arrived back home.

I was shattered. Not only had I lost the boy who I had whole-heartedly believed I would marry, he was interested in friends of mine, and friends of mine were on his side. It became this division of opinion amongst a previously close-knit group.
Not only had my world been turned upside down, but I arrived back at school and heard from one of his friend’s that he had told this particular friend that we had had sex. From there, rumours escalated to an incredulous extent. I felt like I was Cady in Mean Girls, one particular day I walked down the corridor and I could feel everyone’s stares and I could hear the whispers. Girls who I thought were my friends were feeding the rumour. Once a few people knew, it didn’t take long until I was known to the year above me, and to the three years consecutively below me. And this wasn’t just at my school; it was over the majority of the North Shore. Everyone knew my name, and who I had supposedly had sex with.

To this day, I meet people and I introduce myself and they say “Oh, Annie… wow, right haha”. Or they say, “Yeah I’ve heard a lot about you.” These comments still get to me. I had my little sister asking me the truth; I had my own mother hearing other mothers’ gossip about me. I had people not wanting to do groupwork with me because they were afraid my “slutiness” could be caught.

I can’t explain what it feels like to know everyone is talking about you behind your back, and not being able to explain. If I were to accept the rumours and act as if they were true, I would only become more infamous. I even had people sending me anonymous messages asking what I would name my baby. Like seriously? But denying them too, made people pity at me and call me an embarrassed slut.

I know that people still look at me and think, Annie… the girl who had sex in year 8. And it is so far from the truth, it isn’t even funny.

The whole point of this story is to explain how my name and profile being accessible on Facebook, lead to my infamy. I do not say that everyone was talking about me for attention, but it is the plain truth that most people I met from that point on had heard my name and knew a little of what was going on.

I am not defined by my past or my actions or the words that other people labelled me with. But I know that if social media hadn’t existed at this time, that girls in Year 9 at Wenona and boys in year 8 at St Pius would not blink if they had met me.

Ellie Campbell is one of the only other people I can think of who has undergone what I underwent. And she’s given me permission to mention her in this post. Ellie will be the first person to admit to anything she considers a mistake. And she is infamous, but her infamy is misguided. Having only heard of a single Skype call she made, that unfortunately went quite viral, you wouldn’t associate her with being the mature and intelligent person she is. Ellie is thoughtful and interesting and kind. She is bright and a human too. And I have heard so many nasty things said about her. I could tell you, in fact, 10 other people who have committed her so called “crime” too, of - (agreeing to the requests) on a webcam for a boy. I don’t understand. Ellie’s actions did not detrimentally affect anyone, yet we concern ourselves with her personal life. Why do we not blame the guy who sent the video around? Why don’t we gossip about bullies or bitches? It seems the people that are the most innocent and undeserving are often the ones dealt the most hate.

Social Media can help someone make a name for themself, but it is not necessarily a good one. Social media for me almost destroyed my happiness entirely. I can think of so many other times where social media was used, and the result was one that upset me. Relationship status breakups and the comments on those, the courage that people suddenly have to lash out on the internet. Facebook and Myspace rendered me in a light that made me appear stupid, idiotic, self-obsessed, thin, rude and popular. People would never have guessed that at the time I was fired abuse of being a slut (let's just keep in mind that the real definition of slut is someone who is sexually promiscuous with multiple men, and that there was no mention of more than 1 man I had been sexually involved with), that I was achieving straight A's, that I played the trumpet, that I was on the whole pretty nerdy, quite big and curvy (I managed to edit my photos to appear otherwise), and that all I really wanted was to fit in, rather than stand out, which is exactly what happened. 

Ellie and I, thanks to social media, and the morals, priorities and minds of our teenager peers will never be able to truly escape what people have heard, and the assumptions that were made, or are made about us. This brings me to my next frustration; recognition.

If you want to share this with your friends, please do. I think the post below is more relevant to a wider audience however, and it was written by my sister who is 15.
 If you agree with anything I'm saying or have your own stories I'd really like to hear about them, or post them. I have many more wider-reaching sort of posts I'd like to publish, but I guess I'll just see how this goes to start with.

Annie