Now on Facebook: Beach Sloth

             I made it: a Facebook profile. Some might want to trumpet this from the rooftops, but I’m currently unaware of who those people might be. Hopefully this will give you a better way of connecting with me, with Beach Sloth.

                Yes, I am aware the profile has been around for about a month or so. What can I say? I’m a sloth, I’m lazy, and I’m bad at self-promotion.  This a passion of mine, and I hope it inspires others to search out new music, music they might not be exposed to everyday. 

 What I’d like to happen is for further input. Originally when I created this blog, I wanted a great deal of comments, etc. But I wanted to avoid the “oh look at me, aren’t I hip?” problem so many other bloggers face. That reeks of desperation and quite frankly isn’t my modus operandi. 

                Setting up the blog for anonymous commentators has its own worries: I want to avoid spam with this blog. Things should look a particular way: clean. There’s no need for endless clutter. Clean formats are the best, that’s why I initially was wary of the Tumblr format, but it has since grown on me.

                Why now? Why should I bother doing this now? Well, I’ve started getting more and more emails from people, increasing in positivity and personal tweaks. Originally I got a lot of emails about random stuff, it is cool that you’re a banker in the Democratic Republic of Congo, but I doubt I can help you with your problem of having too much money. Guess that former Nigerian prince is going to make do with the money he currently has. 

                Things have improved. Now I do receive actual emails, actual Gchats from people, people who are the crème de la crème of the blogging world.  Maybe I’m a bit shy, but I’ll try to be a bit more responsive. A few have even written some extremely kind emails, and I’m positively thankful for that. Little bits of support show me that ultimately doing this is a worthwhile endeavor, rather than it just being some ‘living inside my head’ kind of stuff.

                If you’d like then, become a fan, become a friend. I’d like this to work both ways, with people telling me things as well. My approach to this fan page is painfully new; I hope I can take this journey down Zuckerberg lane with all of you. Sadly, first has already been taken, but there are countless other numbers waiting right for the grasping. To be treated to a number, simply go here

Effing Twenty Something: A True Story

                  I thought it would be different. Society glorified your twenties as some remarkable, un-reproducible piece of your life, something you’d look back on with fondness. 

                “You’ll have so much fun” the television blared in front of me “All that awkwardness will be eliminated, to present to you the prime time of your life” various advertisements tell me on the internet, radio, newspapers, magazines, songs, movies, etc. 

                All of it was wrong. None of it told the actual truth, of what it is like to be a twenty something. Perhaps my parents warned me of this, of their problems which make mine seem miniscule. They fought in wars; they watched the USSR’s rise and fall. Plenty of horrible stuff occurred during their time growing up, yet somehow it felt better. Reasons, evidence existed that things would get better. Where’d that evidence go? 

                Why the lying? I don’t get it. Who felt there was a need to create this great illusion, this false reality I could believe in? I got promised so much, and received so little. Sure, I’m fortunate enough to have this computer, this roof over my head, this car, this money, this job, but it isn’t exactly what I hoped for. 

                Now as I try to explain to people what’s happening to me, they tell me “Oh, it gets better in your thirties.” When I was in my teens, these same people told me it gets better in your twenties. What is the waiting time before things get better, more interesting, more exciting? Do I have a time line for this, or will my satisfaction constantly get pushed further and further into the future so by the time I get to that terminal endpoint I’m given a sticker that says “Relax” in big bold letters. By the time I realize that things don’t get better, that the entire universe moves in a constant state of entropy, of moving from high to low energy, those liars will be long gone, passed onto another realm. 

                Everything I was supposed to do I did. That 401K got set up. At work I maintain a perky, cheerful attitude that brightens up the office. My tastes would be considered ‘cool’ or ‘hip’. I take care of other people, have empathy for others. Yet after I do all this careful planning, all these things that are supposed to make me better, I don’t feel better.

                Trying to complain, I’m told I can’t. Venting is apparently wrong. Whenever I have problems I try to tell other people, they tell me to think about all the people who have it worse than me. I don’t understand who the fuck installed this fascist bubbly optimism regime, but I hate it. 

                Instead I jump up and down on my bed as my music plays. Lately it seems that technology has become the new opiate of the masses. No matter what bad thing happens, if I get lost, get delayed on a train for 8 hours, so long as I have an IPOD, I can tolerate it. Every time I scroll through the meticulously well-picked songs I got for myself, it reminds me that someone I’ve never met cares.

                Is this what being in your twenties is supposed to be like? All this disconnection can’t be good for me. Occasionally I wonder whether or not I’ll ever be able to find that other voice in the dark, shouting, longing for someone to understand. The more I speak with my friends; I realize they have the same issues. 

                By society’s standards, I’m a loser. Yet I’ve traveled to multiple continents, have helped people in the direst of situations, and have been there in general for countless numbers of people I may never meet. Somehow that doesn’t even count, I haven’t created my own company like the smug asshole Mark Zuckerberg, I haven’t gotten my book published, I haven’t accomplished as much as people tell me I should’ve gotten done. While I’m being told of everything I need, am supposed to do, I’m told I ought to be having fun. Maybe if everyone stopped talking at me and began listening, I might not feel so sad, so trapped, and so small. 

                How can this be the prime time of my life? I know there’s that silly saying of “No pain, no gain” but I at least thought I’d have some company in this twenty something misery.

Is the movie “The Social Network” just copping a feel off of Generation Y?

I’m sure you’ve seen the advertisements proclaiming this cinematic “manna from heaven” bestowed on us ignorant fools. The movie of a generation, one screams. Not to be missed, another one says. Citizen Kane remade for narcissistic types, raves another. 

According to my friends’ status updates, they are all going to see it. Some even “like” it, confirming this is an acceptable thing to post on Facebook, and that Mark Zuckerberg won’t get you for watching it. Instead he’ll just pour all of your personal information into various advertising algorithms, so the ads you see on the will be specifically targeted to your tastes. Man, I hope that you are able to avoid that cruel fate, of being a willing participant in a giant advertising scheme. Who knows, next you may be asked to water someone’s virtual crops. Shutter at the thought, maybe the movie isn’t worth it. 

The movie stars Jesse Eisenberg, who is basically Michael Cera if Michael Cera experienced human emotions. Perhaps I can’t exactly find fault with the cast; they’re just looking for work, but the whole premise of making a movie off of such a showy social website that’s been established for only a few years sounds a bit off. I mean, I don’t exactly see movies on OKCupid or Last.fm. A movie about Myspace would probably just focus on Tom crying in a small room surrounded by white erase boards filled with nonsensical gibberish. But Myspace did offer some easy ways to protect your privacy. Just try navigating Facebook's privacy settings and see if you don't go utterly mad.

Facebook works like most social networking sites do. What’s different about it is how much information it has and how many people use it. Recently it was discovered that people use Facebook even more than Google, which struck me as a wee bit upsetting. I mean, what happens when people are more willing to learn about their social networks than actually search out knowledge, whether or not it is particularly relevant. Sure, you can try to search out new things on Facebook, but they are only self-serving. There’s hardly anything new to be discovered on there, and lately it has been trying to cop even more information from Wikipedia, in the hopes that by merging that information into their format, you’ll never have a reason to leave.

Having a movie come out about this is probably the most blatant attempt of ripping off Generation Y for its nostalgia. I’m a little surprised that only a few years need to pass before things count as nostalgia, so that’s  disappointing. Aren’t we the generation who had an entire show dedicated to ripping off our childhood for cheap laughs (Robot Chicken, see that Transformers reference), or hell even Transformers. Think of it, there are Transformers 1, Transformers 2, all those Harry Potter movies, countless Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchises, Mortal Kombat, Spiderman 1, Spiderman 2, Spiderman 3, and countless others even more forgettable. Now we have a movie about a site we all frequent on a fairly regular hourly basis. Despite our best efforts, you’re in or you’re out.

Not being on Facebook gets you dirty looks. Each time somebody hears “I’m not on Facebook” a few thoughts pop into their head:

1.       Potential Luddite (impossible, Luddites are made up to scare web designers)

2.       Has “sketchy” past (like, horribly evil past)

3.       Wants privacy (completely foreign concept)

4.       Is Amish (depends on size of the beard)

5.       Doesn’t like you enough (most likely scenario)

So this movie just lets you watch your favorite website come to life, in all of its petty cruelty. It started out as a way for people to see who was single and who wasn’t. Mark apparently made enough enemies for someone to write a screenplay and get it successfully produced. Perhaps Mark might spend another hundred million (after that kind gift to Newark) to create another movie, a response to this one, where he singles out people he dislikes and dumps on them for roughly an hour and a half.

It annoys me to no end that this movie feels like a giant data-mining exercise. Yes, I know it was based on the book by Ben Mezrich, but the movie reeks of angst.  It feels like it is reliving the history of something that might have been a social movement, but then unreasonably adds a bunch of drama to keep you interested. Does there need to be that much angst for a website? This isn’t 4chan or something.

To give you some idea of the level of dramatic put-on and emotional unease, the soundtrack was done by Trent Reznor. If that doesn’t give you an idea of the level of angst at play here, perhaps the commercials might. Each one I see gives the feel that these people are off to destroy the world we love and hold dear.

By putting my thoughts into words, I’m certain I will be dragged against my will by my group of well-intentioned friends hoping to get me more “movie-savvy”. I just don’t dig the cruel humor so prevalent in movies; that’s the main reason I didn’t enjoy “Borat”. Maybe I should just learn to accept that nostalgia happens quickly, and that it can quickly be capitalized upon. But nonetheless, The Social Network shall find me somehow, someday whether in a theater or on a lazy, channel-surfing day.