At first, it seemed innocuous. Its calming, blue appearance delivered to me an overwhelming sense of comfort. It was ignorance masked in the cozy cocoon of convenience.
In other words, it was Facebook.
To say this century is brimming with technology is trite. To say it will be the one in which robots take over the world is far fetched (well…let’s hope so). But if one thing is clear to me, it’s that technology in the twenty-first century has a wrought-iron grip on us. Or, at least it did on me -- in the alluring form of Facebook.
Back in high school, I remember almost unconsciously being on Facebook every chance I had – on the drive back from school, in the line at the grocery store, during water breaks at dance practice. My time slipped away from me, and well, I didn’t really notice. Until I did.
That’s when I made a decision – I would deactivate my Facebook account, and never return. Technology wasn’t about to own me -- at least, not anymore than it already had.
In hindsight, this was rather naïve of me. Also, a little extreme.
The second I deactivated – well, actually a couple hours after – I began to...umm…perceive things. Let me explain: I felt devoid of hollow thoughts. It wasn’t that my mind was suddenly replaced with earth-shattering revelations, just that it felt free. Or at least, freer than before. I remembered more – everything from Maroon 5’s latest song lyrics (remember, this was high school) to the names of the three teeny bones that encompass our ears (hammer, anvil, and stirrup, if you’re curious). It was sort of like I’d dusted the cobwebs off my windowsill, like I’d smoothed the ruffled pages of an old book, like I’d gotten rid of the bug keeping my program from running clearly.
The fresh feeling I got from being “off the grid” allowed me to concentrate like never before. I felt in touch with my thoughts, and somehow felt more efficient (whether or not I was is a different question).
Inevitably, though, I found myself longing to be back on Facebook. I knew doing so would defeat the entire purpose of deactivating it, would dirty the clean slate I had just created for myself. Knowing this allowed me to restrain myself…
…for about a week. And then I logged right back on to Facebook as if nothing had happened. Failure greeted me as I read the “Welcome Back, Nishtha!” banner plastered across my home screen.
See, the reason I like technology is because it allows me to create. The reason I want to work in technology is so that I can create for a living. So that I never run out of things to learn. So that there’s always things to keep my mind fresh.
That’s why as I aimed my mouse over the “settings” tab on Facebook, I faced an internal battle – if I claimed to love technology so much, why did one of its very biggest embodiments give me such a hard time? It felt like cognitive dissonance at its finest – my mind was playing games with me.
The freshness I had felt sans-Facebook withered away, but I fought to contain it.
I had devoted too much time and brainpower into the subject to just let it go peacefully. For a fraction of a second, I debated deactivating yet again – but if I’d learned anything from the experience, it was that I couldn’t ignore the problem.
And so I didn’t.
I realized the issue wasn’t Facebook. It was my desire to feel in control. Technology promises ease and comfort, but at the price of full control. I wanted full control because it allowed me to feel powerful. But there was a reason control doesn’t have the best connotation. As much as I hated to admit it back then, it’s because it isn’t always necessary.
Control is restricting.
I admitted that technology was no hero, but no villain either. That nothing was all bad or all good. I granted myself the opportunity to experiment with things. And it’s being able to experiment with anything and everything that has delivered to me the biggest freedom of all.
Today, I’ve probably deactivated and reactivated my Facebook around 40 times. Maybe even more – I’ve honestly lost count. But, each time, I garner more data. I learn more about the website. More about myself. This human-computer interaction gets the gears of my brain turning, and exploring it serves as a catalyst for my own self-transformation.
I guess you could say it’s an experiment I still haven’t given up.
