HOOK: Life without Big Brother

So I was walking down Commonwealth Avenue the other day — pondering, as I often do, how fat one would have to be to become the fattest person in the world — when I made a horrifying discovery.

A couple of my compatriots were holding up signs claiming they had found a link between Facebook and the Nazi party. I approached these nice young gents and asked them to explain. I forget now what they said, but it was pretty convincing. Or at least it must have been, because they convinced me to close my Facebook account right then and there. All I had to do was give them my password and, just for security purposes, my credit card number. Oh well, it’s for a good cause, right?

And thus I entered life without Facebook. Let me tell you, friends, it’s no picnic. Throughout my life, I’ve avoided the other major vices: drugs, alcohol and sex. But if life without Facebook is this awful, maybe I really missed the boat on this whole “sin” thing.

Part of the reason going cold turkey on Facebook has been so difficult for me is that it was such a time saver. After all, 80 percent of my personality can be summed up by simply viewing my favorite music, TV shows and books. Add in my groups and bam! – you’ve got a complete portrait of me. A Shakira-listening, Grey’s-watching, Harry Potter-reading dude who loves ’90s Nickelodeon and tried to ford the river in Oregon Trail. Add in my political views (moderate) and you’ve got my number completely. Coincidentally, my phone number was also on my Facebook.

Not only was my profile a great way for people to get to know me, but I also employed the same techniques to get to know others. After I canceled my Facebook account, I had to start actually talking to people to figure out who was cool or not. So much time has been wasted since. You wouldn’t believe how often people seem so cool, only to fail the LitMiss test. If Little Miss Sunshine isn’t the best movie you’ve ever seen, why am I even talking to you?

And that’s assuming I can even manage to start a dialogue with another person, anyway. Without wall posts and Facebook messages, there’s no way to casually start a conversation with somebody. Sure, I could just go up to people and talk to them, but what if they’re busy at the moment? What if they want to know a little about me before they choose to respond? What if they want to choose not to respond? What if they’d rather play Scrabulous?

Without Facebook, none of these seemingly basic elements of human interaction can take place. The other problem I’m having without Facebook is evident in what you’re reading right now. Does this column seem even more high quality to you than the gold I normally produce? No, you’re not getting smarter. I’ve just got an unbelievable amount of free time. I’m studying more, I’m cooking, I even taught myself to play the piano — it’s awful! Taking away Facebook from a man is like taking away a hamster’s running wheel. What’s he going to do to pass the time? Gnaw through the lid and escape to sweet, sweet freedom? Unthinkable!

Recently, I’ve found my self just going to bed early. I don’t think my body can handle eight hours of sleep a night; the bags under my eyes have already started to shrivel away. If my eyebrows start falling out, I may have to give in to my Nazi oppressors. And I hope none of this elicits laughter, because I really am anti-Nazi.

It’s a lonely life. Asking people to “be friends” in real life is awkward and scary, and so I must gauge my friends based on the number of people who return my calls (three, including Moviefone). No one reads my notes, no matter how funny they are. I’ve taken to writing messages and taping them to my wall, just for company. Perhaps the problem isn’t that I don’t have Facebook, it’s that other people still have it. Longtime users seem to forget that “poking” is just as cute and non-committal in real life as it is on Facebook. Slapping me is a completely inappropriate response!

For now, I guess I’m just going to have to wait it out and hope this column reaches people. Don’t be discouraged by the trials I’ve gone through to bring you this message of hope. There is strength in numbers. Break free from your shackles, people! As long as no one finds a Nazi link with delicious Fanta or my beloved Volkswagen, I should be able to make it. I’ve come this far; there’s no way I’m ever going back to the Facebook life again.

Justin Hook, a junior in the College of Communication and College of Arts and Sciences, is a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. He can be reached at jbhook@bu.edu.