Facebook addiction: A Survivor’s Tale Part 9

She looked at me in a business-like manner, which didn't make sense because a) we were in a library and b) her eyes looked at me softly, despite the way she was trying to look all tough. I had read about this somewhere, before my Facebook addiction days.

So she says "Excuse me, do you know where I can find the English literature section?" That's when I knew it was obviously a ruse, as there's a big sign saying 'ENGLISH LITERATURE' at the entrance to the library. I played it cool. I may have been a Facebook addict, but I wasn't a fool.

I say "Sure, I know where the English literature section is, let me show you where it is'. But of course, at that moment my memory had just happened to fail, and I told her we would have to walk around a little bit whilst we looked for it. She let slip a momentary smile, I got a glimpse of perfect teeth. This was important. But beyond that, she had a radiant skin, which I knew was soft and moisturised, just as her nails were so perfectly manicured. She had to be smart too, to hang out in the library - in this university's library, anyhow - and want to check out literature. I hadn't been on Facebook for several hours now, and I could not have known that it was the beginning of the end of my Facebook addiction.

I took her right round the library, asking simple questions about how she what she was studying, how she was finding the course. She had come from the north of England to study law, and was curious about a book that a friend had recommended. She loved the university and the town, was finding it great. She asked me where I'd come from, and how I was finding my course. I of course replied with my default answers and immediately came back with a question of my own. I was the Facebook addict, and this was a chance to get live status updates from a beautiful woman. If there was a like button, I'd have jammed it by now, that's how much I was enjoying these moments.

Facebook addiction: A Survivor’s Tale Part 8

Freedom. That’s what college represented. The opportunity to get away from nagging teachers, parents, set my own timetable, follow my own priorities. I was to be my own man, to control my own destiny. Until my independence fell victim to Facebook addiction.

Facebook addiction seems a striking victimhood for a young man, with high hopes of achieving everything he wanted, and the determination to go with it. But it’s much easier to become addicted than you might think. Consider this. What does Facebook show you the moment you log in? Is it not a report of almost everything in the virtual lives of those you know and care about, or are just curious about?

When you view the content that Facebook has, it looks designed to just keep you there forever. The wall, the photos, the comments, the notes, the shrine to self expression and, some would say, narcissism that is the profile page. Ah yes, for someone who was short of avenues and full of things to share, Facebook was the ultimate place to let it all go. But one of the problems with Facebook addiction is that, the more time you spend on the site, the less there is that’s new. The less fascination you have when you log onto the site. The less interesting other peoples’ virtual lives become.

My Facebook addiction was already waning when I met the reason for it to end. I had taken some time off that day, and by that I mean I had taken time off Facebook. I went to the library to study. I never really go to the library, it bores me and I always fall asleep. But on this particular day, the library just seemed a good place to get away from it all. I sat down in one of the quiet alcoves with my books, a pen and a notepad. As I scribbled away at some nonsense I knew I would never read again, I heard a chair move as someone sat opposite me. I didn’t think to look up, so I continued. After a few more seconds, was the shuffling of books and papers. It suddenly occurred to me that I was no longer alone in this alcove.

Facebook addiction: A Survivor’s Tale Part 7

So last time I was in the middle of telling you how I, a reformed Facebook addict, spent my days on campus. I’d told you, I think, of the rush of blood to the head that came from playing Farmville, especially when beating my 12 hour record, despite the tiredness. Oh wait, I hadn’t yet told you that.

The aim of Farmville, for those who don’t know, is basically to oversee the growth of a community of virtual citizens in your own virtual town, of which you are the mayor. You compete against your Facebook friends for points and for sheer size and power. This game has tonnes of features that really cater to the Facebook addict. It’s compelling, it’s viral, and it keeps you logged onto your Facebook account without having to say a word. In other words, it’s social without really being social, which is what makes it so effective.

So I started playing a trial game, with mayorship of my town of Chivandra, which I thought sounded rather mystical and cool at the same time. I was incompetent at first, but as I continued playing, I got better and better, and more addicted. I once went a whole 14 hours without doing anything other than playing Farmville on Facebook, and that was after a whole week of playing for 12 hours a day. I was a Facebook addict and a Farmville addict all rolled in one.

Addiction can be a cruel and powerful thing. I had my exams amidst a bout of Facebook addiction. Needless to say, they didn’t go well. It’s difficult to concentrate, let alone write an essay, when your vocabulary is full of jumbled up acronyms like ‘lolz’, ‘lmao’ and other gems that professors love to read. I was an inhabitant of the virtual world being forced to adapt and write real world student essays, and that just didn’t seem realistic or fair. I remember stepping out of the exam room feeling really angry, angry that I had been subjected to the nonsensical trivialities of learning the history and politics of places I didn’t know or care about, angry that I had to write something to satisfy the mindless automatons that occupied academia. But somewhere I could not bring myself to recognise, I was angry also at the fact that I had let myself down, let go of the self control that I had exhibited in my university entry exams, and found myself with an uncertain student career.

Facebook addiction: A Survivor’s Tale Part 6

College is supposed to be full of drinks and mayhem. And it was. It’s just that I didn’t really take part. It was as though there was a different slipstream with people getting wasted, vomiting. I glided past the footpath next to the pubs where, some time at night, or even during the day in fact, a student would burst out as if rushing to some forgotten appointment, only to let forth a stream of regurgitated lunch or dinner. It wasn’t pleasant, and it seemed like madness compared to what I knew, by now, to be a mild Facebook addiction.

I saw myself as being above the craziness, the hedonism of the mainstream students. My family was back home, rooting for me to succeed. And I was going to get there, if I didn’t get off the beaten track. You see, for me, the Facebook addiction was a way of staying safe. I couldn’t do the crazy stuff that the other kids were doing – it just didn’t seem sane or rational or whatever you want to call it. But when logged onto Facebook, playing Farmville or instant messaging, it just seemed like a fun vibe.

You don’t want to know why I was afraid of the real world. It’s not really relevant. But suffice it to say, there was real pain and hurt out there, and I was safe in here, looking at my screen and finding solace in the digital ink that would gloriously bring news, chat, opinions, banality. The Facebook status update was really the bane of my social existence, the chat feature an enabler, and Farmville, well, let’s just say that my Farmville addiction was a way of passing the time.

With each day, I’d get up and check my Facebook status update. I’d then head to the lectures in the morning, passing through Giovanni’s coffee van on the way. Giovanni was cool, always had a friendly word to say about the weather or whatever. I’d often meet up with people from my class and we’d walk together talking about stuff that had happened around college. I always found stuff to talk about, without mentioning my Facebook addiction, let alone my Farmville addiction. It just wasn’t sufficiently cool to talk about. I knew what a dweeb was, and I wasn’t gonna be one. Uh uh. Facebook addict or not, no-one was going to know about it.

Facebook addiction: A Survivor’s Tale Part 5

I later discover that there had been a few important events at the party after I left earlier in the evening – someone had got drunk and embarrassed themselves by confessing some troublesome secrets to everyone there. It was quite funny for some, but not so for those who were mentioned. In any case, the photos were pasted all over Facebook. I was glad I’d left to get home early.

By now you’re probably wondering if there’s a point to all this, was there some greater meaning found by the Facebook addiction? Well, I cannot spoil the story and ruin your concentration by telling you too quickly, can I? But suffice it to say, there is a surprising twist in this story.

The moment of epiphany came one weekend when there seemed particularly nothing special to do. The weather was awful. I didn’t want to leave the house. My on/off girlfriend was off. It was really rather bleak. But I’d surpassed the 1,000 Facebook friends milestone and was feeling rather pleased with myself, at least in that regard. And let’s face it, with a Facebook addiction, it was like having the guaranteed buzz for months. I found lots of people who like me, were hooked onto Farmville. We’d play for hours and hours. Like this particular weekend, in fact.

I had started on the Friday evening. My time in class was always a chore, what with thinking about the Farmville games I would play later on. My college had some policy to do with distraction and non-essential use of computers around the lecture halls, which meant that there was no Facebook available there.

Facebook addiction: A Survivor’s Tale Part 4

I hadn’t been to a real world party for ages. It seemed to take too long to travel across the city. Sitting in a steel cage with a bunch of strangers who were busy trying very hard not to acknowledge each other was just a bore. Not only that, but sometimes you’d have the tube train driver trying to compensate by being chirpy, as if excitedly announcing that the train ahead was 30 seconds late was somehow going to brighten your day or something. It was ridiculous. But I’d been invited, via Facebook (call it a perk of Facebook addiction), and this time I took the chance to go. I wouldn’t be away from my computer for too long, or so I thought.

The party was in north London, at the kind of place people who did proper jobs lived in. I mean, it was the kind of Georgian mansion block only a banker and related financial cronies could like. I thought it was a dump. And I took my cigarettes in, walking with a swagger that announced the arrival of a man with an enormous chip on his shoulder. There were smartly dressed people already talking to each other about some transaction, some bank going bust, some bonus going on a holiday flat somewhere. Interesting, I thought, and got to drinking. I figured I’d get wasted, get out of there, and back to my computer for my Facebook fix.

As soon as I arrive back home, I log back on to my Facebook account. My neighbour seems to be having a party, I can hear the voices in the background. They’re laughing and talking loudly, with Led Zeppelin playing not too loudly, but loud enough that I can hear it and make out that the song’s “Battle of Evermore”. But all this is subconscious – the only thing my mind is processing right now is the latest status updates, and the screen for Farmville that’s just starting up. Forget parties, Facebook addiction is just the cure for a dull Saturday night, or is it?

Facebook addiction: A Survivor’s Tale Part 3

Facebook opened itself up to 3rd party applications like games. Suddenly I found myself hooked. You might ask yourself at this point, what I was doing for a living, that I managed to play games for so long. Well, that’s the nature of Facebook addiction, my friend. There is no rationale. I was in the office, and we don’t have one of these fancy blocking systems like I hear they have in big companies. Nope. Out here in the mid-west, we don’t spend too much on stuff like that. It’s just the wind in your hair and Facebook friends on your back when you take too long to respond.

Ok so I took it too far. We’d be sending each other messages about really trivial things. Some of the status updates were just ridiculous. What else can you call a ‘broadcast’ about the jam having fallen from a donut and onto your shoe. I mean, if you don’t want jam falling on you then don’t eat a jam donut! But of course, such a negative status update would never do on Facebook. When you’re a Facebook addict, your Facebook friends are your dealer. You don’t want to upset your dealer. So I’d write something like ‘must’ve been tasty, that donut’, all the while choking at the thought of a donut-jam-shoe mixup, especially when I knew that she didn’t wash her shoes very often...

By now you’ve figured that this must be some surreal kind of fiction piece right? Well it could be. But you’ll just have to read on to find out. So this other time, another person sends me a message saying ‘hey, party on tomorrow night, my address is.... hope to see you there!’
Well I hadn’t spoken to this person for the longest time, and when a Facebook tool suggested I add them, I was too busy to bother saying no. Since then, there had been a relentless bombardment of invitations to things I had no interest in. But it was good to feel loved, so I kept them on. They produced the content that I needed to feed my Facebook addiction, and by this point it felt like nothing else mattered.

Facebook addiction: A Survivor’s Tale Part 2

I started using Facebook when I moved home, and missed the family and friends. I thought Facebook was a pretty easy way of keeping in touch, as everyone else was talking about it and already seemed to be on the site. With Facebook’s features, it was so easy to find people. I could think of a name, type it in, and there would suddenly be a familiar looking face – easy! It was beautiful. Trawling memories, finding that people who lived on only in the mind, were still real, somewhere. And they would find me too. Every time I logged on, it seemed that someone had thought of me from way back, and looked for me on the site. Little did I know that these moments of bliss were adding up to a Facebook addiction.

Catching up with someone you haven’t spoken to in a very long time can be the most time-consuming experience. A typical conversation with a new Facebook friend would go something like:
Friend: How have you been? It’s been such a very long time since we last spoke. Have you kept in touch with people from school?
Me: Yeah it’s been a long time! So nice to hear from you. What’s been happening with you?
Friend: Things are going great, I’ve moved to (a certain country) and am working for a (a certain company), still (doing the same thing as always).

And so on. Over time the conversation would evolve, with the basic facts established, we would share quick chats about people we know in common, events in our lives and so on. The most addictive thing about Facebook is just how simple it is to use. You can use Facebook anywhere in the world, which just doesn’t help when you’re trying to get work done. But unfortunately, my tryst with Facebook was just beginning and I was going to discover just how much of an impact it would have in my life.

The Facebook friendships kept pouring in. I knew I should be selective about whom I added to my profile, but I was like, what the heck, maybe it would be an interesting way to meet new people. So I’d accept friendship requests. It was weird. As soon as I accepted these friendship requests, they probably looked at my profile. But they never said anything, these strangers. It was for the best though, because something else was fuelling my Facebook addiction at this point.