Seeya, Facebook
There are many reasons to quit Facebook. You don’t need me to rehash them all here. And when as august a publication as Consumer Reports features an article “How to Quit Facebook,” you know you’re not the only one anxious about Zuckerberg’s creation.
My particular reason has to do with Facebook’s designers, researchers, and writers. They’re simply too good at what they do. Their walled garden is really a Whole Foods of lovely produce, cheeses, and meats. I can’t pop in for a quick visit. I can’t leave without a whopping bill. And I often end up with a bad case of heartburn from yelling stupid things at strangers who are yelling stupid things at other strangers.
It’s going to hurt like hell to leave. I’ve received so much good from the Facebook experience—getting questions answered, rediscovering and keeping up with acquaintances, and organizing with them to do good things. But I just can’t countenance the price of admission: addiction.
(I’ve probably checked Facebook a dozen times while writing this short little statement.)
It pains me to think about how much I’ve missed out on over the past decade: looking up at the sky or into my kids’ eyes, moving my body, being truly connected to people and the world around me. Life is short, and I don’t like the idea of living it out as a functional addict.
Coincidentally, I became addicted around the same time that we moved from Ann Arbor to New York City. One of our main motivations for the move was to liberate ourselves from owning a car.
Driving is one of the most amazing and, for some, addictive sensations a person can experience. The people responsible for the automobile experience are, like Facebook’s designers, simply outstanding at their craft.
And, really, too good at it. Very little brings out our propensity for ugliness toward our fellow humans (not to mention our physical environment) like the distance we create when we wrap ourselves in two tons of protective steel and aluminum.
Except, perhaps, Facebook.
If you want to keep in touch with me, email works well: lou@rosenfeldmedia.com. I’m an inbox=0 guy, so I’ll do my best to respond, although I’m pretty behind these days. Better yet, write me something by hand and mail it to me at Rosenfeld Media (540 President Street, Brooklyn, NY 11215 USA; if we’re close, you probably already have my home address). If you do that, I’ll definitely write back.
I’ll continue posting work-related stuff here in Medium and via LinkedIn, which seems to have become a pretty decent place for discussion. I’ll announce things from time to time via my Twitter account, but that’s never been a place to have any sort of meaningful conversation.
And, of course, this is all “for now”. Communications channels—especially social media—change constantly. Perhaps I’ll be back to blogging before long.
