I Really, Really Don't Want To Know

I've become a Facebook cynic. When people post photos of their families being oh-so-happy, I'm the Scrooge that eye rolls. "My husband is the best! #breakfastinbed Love you sooo much." That translates to me as, "I'm insecure so I must let everyone know that I am totally enviable!" 

Am I just being jealous? Perhaps. Yet my reactions are the same when it comes to vacation shots, and I'm a terrible traveler who dreams of her own bed. Seriously. The last time I went to Miami I packed so reluctantly I wondered if I was getting sick. 

Henry Alford's "Wish You Weren't There" researches yet-another oversharing situation.

While it’s fairly easy to categorize the photographically incontinent under the headlines Narcissistic and Insecure, or some combination thereof, the photo-posting folks may not have the same clarity about themselves. “People often don’t know that they’re the culprit,” said Marla Vannucci, a clinical psychologist who is an associate professor at Adler University.

In my tolerant moments I cringingly recall my early relationship with Facebook, where I felt obligated to post photos of my life. There wasn't really any thought behind it. FB is constantly begging and wheedling for me to share so they can blast me with targeted advertising, and my giddy young self succumbed. 

Yet the people posting aren't giddy young things anymore. I passed a mother and child on the street the other day; the mother had her phone up to snap a picture; the child threw her hands up to shield her face, wailing "NO!" The mother, flat-eyed with intent, grimly tapped away; she's taking the (unnecessary) picture. It was a mindless, and so thoughtless and inconsiderate, action. 

The Jabba in me was cheered by the news that the IRS now prowls through social media for proof of expensive lifestyles. "Can't pay your taxes? But you could pay for Disney World?" 

Hee hee.   

Who's Life are We Living?

"Help, My Parents are Millenials" by Katy Steinmetz in TIME: 

In scores of interviews for this article, just the mention of social media elicited groans and sighs from young parents who are barraged by handmade birthday invitations and color-coded clothes-pin chore charts on Pinterest. They debate whether Facebook or Instagram is "the hardest," whether it's the images of the home-cooked organic feast or the just-cleaned house. It helps only a little to know that people are being highly selective about what they share. "Someone will put out there, 'Oh, I just braided my child's hair.' But you just yelled at them like 50 times to sit down," says 30-year-old B. Marcell Williams, a mother of four living in St. Louis. 

 

In the Moment

Following Brian Williams' gaff, there were a number of articles about memory (I linked one regarding false ones last week). 

Here's another: "Shutterbug Parents and Overexposed Lives" by Teddy Wayne. In short, ll this constant photo snapping plays games with our recollections because the brain decides that once a picture is being taken, it doesn't have to bother to remember the moment itself. 

 

Frantically snapping multiple shots for supposed future reference is the opposite if "being in the moment." Then those photos aren't ever looked at again, so what was the point, really? 

I've been an aunt since the age of 12. I must admit, when the first ones rolled in, and this was prior to the cellphone, that camera was constantly clicking away. I have boxes and boxes of pictures that require sorting; last year, I attempted to, then chickened out. The task is just so daunting. Weeding out great from good from okay photos can be an impossible mission.

 

There is one room in the house that displays lovingly selected pictures, the best of the best (and the ones that could not be rejected lest someone get offended). But my 5-year-old nephew commented just this Shabbos, "There isn't one of me here." 

"Oooh, look, I bought you Lego!" 

With the later crop of kinfauna, even with smartphones, it seems less important to whip out the recording devices. You want to sit with them, talk with them, and not ruin the tone by distractingly yelling at them to say "Cheese!" 

“Maybe taking photos is a way to compensate for not being present in the moment,” Dr. Henkel said. And yet the act of posing for and taking a photo is rarely a moment worth cataloging; it’s what was candidly happening beforehand that compels us to take a picture.

“Saying, ‘Here we are having fun, now everybody look and smile!’ can be a disruption of the experience,” she said, adding that the interruption of attention can also hinder our future retrospection. “We’re collecting trophies of our experiences rather than being engaged in the experiences.”

How many pictures does one need, really?