Back when I was your age, secrecy was a big deal. We wanted to go places no one else could get into, know things that no one else knew. We had inside jokes and --- this may seem a little unbelievable today --- private conversations. Seriously, we did!
Compare that with how people update their daily lives online now. With Foursquare, you know when and where your friends are shopping and eating. Everything else is on Facebook, not that I look at Facebook anymore. It’s too akin to reading a bunch of memoirs simultaneously, one sentence at a time.
I like memoirs, but there’s something uncomfortably voyeuristic about this brave new world. Facebook updates are too fact-oriented, what people did rather than what they thought.
Privacy is obsolete. A desire for privacy is now a social aberration, as if there’s something to hide. Don’t get me wrong, I’m here spilling the contents of my psyche for you and I might not even know you. Please note that I’m ruminating and contemplating. I’m not talking about where I got my keyboard or how much I paid for dinner last night.
There’s a possibly apocryphal tweet that allegedly appeared in the early days of Twitter: “Poop coming out now.” Nuff said.
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