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Dec. 8th, 2009 07:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
which_chickSometimes I feel like I'm living in a different world than most of the people around me.
Facebook has been a revelation of sorts. People I haven't spoken to in years and years, people from high school, friend me on Facebook. I'm not sure why. It's not like I'm friends with them or we'd speak on an ongoing basis. But they friend me and I friend them back because it's polite.
I read the things that they post because that's what I am supposed to do with Facebook, near as I can tell. I post my stuff, I read their stuff. (I'm not sure who is grading my Facebook behavior, but I want to get a good grade.) Facebook has clarified the world to me in a way that I did not really expect from it. It's kind of profound, really. Given that I wasn't expecting much in the way of enlightenment from Facebook, this is worth talking about.
What I have learned from Facebook is that I don't live in the same world as most of the people who knew me in high school. Moreover, I do not understand their world. What I never got, before, was how very, very often they talk to God. They talk to God a lot. Overly much, I think. And they're so damn public about it. It's weird and uncomfortable.
Imagine, for a moment, that I spent a fair amunt of time believing that I was talking t an invisible unicrn. (The 'o' key is going bad on my keyboard. I'm installing a new keyboard tonight.) Pretend that I gave the invisible unicrn credit fr a lt f the good things that happen in my life, eg "Family and friends gathered for Thanksgiving, everyone was happy and healthy, thank the invisible unicorn!" (It's not an invisible pink unicorn even though that is more traditional for this sort of argument because even my straw-man analogy examples have to make sense. If it's invisible, you can't bloody well tell what color it is. Actually, the argument can be made, quite readily, that it doesn't HAVE a color because color is that spectra of light what is reflected off the fucking object. Invisible shit don't reflect -- or we'd be able to SEE it and it wouldn't be invisible -- so no color.) or maybe "Brother-the-elder got a job offer from the state of Maryland! My prayers to the invisible unicorn were answered!" or even "Grandma's toe is finally healing, thank the invisible unicorn, and she's feeling a lot better."
If I went on like that, firmly grounded in the belief that an invisible unicorn worked behind the scenes, listening to my wants, assessing my needs, and generating positive outcomes and stuff, open to petition by way of prayer and virgin sacrifice, it would be reasonable for my family and friends to have me committed. But they on Facebook, they all go on about God, an alleged being who is about as real to me as my invisible unicorn is to them. Nobody is trying to have them committed. (Interesting point -- if enough people do it, does that make it OK? Normal? Right?) What's up with that?
(And no, it is not an answer to say "But the stuff they believe in is *real* and yours is just a damn invisible unicorn made up for the purposes of having a discussion." Don't try that.)
Mostly, I politely and quietly tolerate their belief in God. That's what we do, we Usians. (Well, we're SUPPOSED to, anyway. I've noticed that the 'politely and quietly tolerate belief in God' thing works best the more your version of religion resembles the one of the person doing the polite and quiet tolerating. *sigh* It's an imperfect world out there but we do the best we can.) I don't call them out on Facebook: "Hey, you know there isn't a God, right? That it's all pretending, like the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus and stuff?" I don't do that. (It isn't polite to call people out over their continued adherence to a belief system that is, y'know, pretend.) They do their thing and I don't call them out over it.
Just sometimes, paging through Facebook, I sit there slack-jawed and stare at the number of people who seem to have a genuine, confident belief in the vast pretend. It's so strange -- I just sit there and listen to them talking about their invisible unicorns and not mention that they're out of their minds while clocks soften and melt on the landscape around me.
Facebook has been a revelation of sorts. People I haven't spoken to in years and years, people from high school, friend me on Facebook. I'm not sure why. It's not like I'm friends with them or we'd speak on an ongoing basis. But they friend me and I friend them back because it's polite.
I read the things that they post because that's what I am supposed to do with Facebook, near as I can tell. I post my stuff, I read their stuff. (I'm not sure who is grading my Facebook behavior, but I want to get a good grade.) Facebook has clarified the world to me in a way that I did not really expect from it. It's kind of profound, really. Given that I wasn't expecting much in the way of enlightenment from Facebook, this is worth talking about.
What I have learned from Facebook is that I don't live in the same world as most of the people who knew me in high school. Moreover, I do not understand their world. What I never got, before, was how very, very often they talk to God. They talk to God a lot. Overly much, I think. And they're so damn public about it. It's weird and uncomfortable.
Imagine, for a moment, that I spent a fair amunt of time believing that I was talking t an invisible unicrn. (The 'o' key is going bad on my keyboard. I'm installing a new keyboard tonight.) Pretend that I gave the invisible unicrn credit fr a lt f the good things that happen in my life, eg "Family and friends gathered for Thanksgiving, everyone was happy and healthy, thank the invisible unicorn!" (It's not an invisible pink unicorn even though that is more traditional for this sort of argument because even my straw-man analogy examples have to make sense. If it's invisible, you can't bloody well tell what color it is. Actually, the argument can be made, quite readily, that it doesn't HAVE a color because color is that spectra of light what is reflected off the fucking object. Invisible shit don't reflect -- or we'd be able to SEE it and it wouldn't be invisible -- so no color.) or maybe "Brother-the-elder got a job offer from the state of Maryland! My prayers to the invisible unicorn were answered!" or even "Grandma's toe is finally healing, thank the invisible unicorn, and she's feeling a lot better."
If I went on like that, firmly grounded in the belief that an invisible unicorn worked behind the scenes, listening to my wants, assessing my needs, and generating positive outcomes and stuff, open to petition by way of prayer and virgin sacrifice, it would be reasonable for my family and friends to have me committed. But they on Facebook, they all go on about God, an alleged being who is about as real to me as my invisible unicorn is to them. Nobody is trying to have them committed. (Interesting point -- if enough people do it, does that make it OK? Normal? Right?) What's up with that?
(And no, it is not an answer to say "But the stuff they believe in is *real* and yours is just a damn invisible unicorn made up for the purposes of having a discussion." Don't try that.)
Mostly, I politely and quietly tolerate their belief in God. That's what we do, we Usians. (Well, we're SUPPOSED to, anyway. I've noticed that the 'politely and quietly tolerate belief in God' thing works best the more your version of religion resembles the one of the person doing the polite and quiet tolerating. *sigh* It's an imperfect world out there but we do the best we can.) I don't call them out on Facebook: "Hey, you know there isn't a God, right? That it's all pretending, like the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus and stuff?" I don't do that. (It isn't polite to call people out over their continued adherence to a belief system that is, y'know, pretend.) They do their thing and I don't call them out over it.
Just sometimes, paging through Facebook, I sit there slack-jawed and stare at the number of people who seem to have a genuine, confident belief in the vast pretend. It's so strange -- I just sit there and listen to them talking about their invisible unicorns and not mention that they're out of their minds while clocks soften and melt on the landscape around me.
