20.11.08

Espionage and Research are killing my life.

When I go to parties now, it's not an exciting whirl of new faces and possibilities, because the faces aren't new and the possibilities seem markedly impossible. I've met everyone already. I haven't met them in person, of course, that would be absurd. I've just seen them on Facebook, where not only did I find out their first and last names but also their politics, musical preferences and what they look like when they're kissing other people. What this means is that while I know the most intimate and irrelevant details of their lives, I ultimately can't actually use any of this information in a face-to-face encounter.
When I see them from across the room at parties I can't wave them over, tell them I think they're cute and that I too think the Beats were assholes despite having produced some quality writing. I can't tell them that their hair has never looked better or that the grainy web-cam display picture doesn't seem vain so much as just committed to the act of vanity that is inherent to any sort of social networking. I can't tell them how much I admire their unselfconsciousness or how much I've idealized them in my brain. To do so would be treason of the highest order, it would be obscene to admit such a breach of privacy.
However, sometimes when left to their own devices, sometimes these people will be inexplicably drawn to you and in rare cases actually engage in conversation with you. This is where the espionage element comes into play. Because while initiating interaction using previously acquired information is strange, it's even more off-putting to hear previously acquired information coming from the mouth of someone who you've initiated contact with. So, because you can't just ignore the facets of a person you already know about you have to drop hints, lead a conversation towards information you already know.
"I was just listening to this band, The Arcade Fire. Do you know them? What, really? You liked Funeral too? I absolutely adore it, how odd that we'd both be here and adoring the same thing! Maybe we should talk about this at greater length somewhere quieter?"
This is terrible. This is a terrible thing. Actions like these are the territory of bad sitcoms, yet I still sometimes find myself commiting them, fully embracing the fact that I've become dangerously insane.
Clearly the only solution to my problem is to either be thrown into a lake and left for dead or just make a conscious effort not to use Facebook for Evil.

Naturally, I've begun researching lakes.