Facebook疲劳症来袭

    Facebook的最终上市对于硅谷而言将是一个重要时刻，它不仅可能是有史以来规模最大的科技股IPO，而且也是对这家社交网站奇迹般增长的巨大肯定。当初我注册Facebook时，它还只是一个粗糙的网络社区，面向各大院校，我们在这里讨论课程、宿舍生活以及偷偷关注在东亚历史课上大受欢迎的同学。如今，它已成为人们上网的最爱去处，8亿活跃用户（13岁以上）每天会上传2.5亿张照片。

    在美国，平均每位用户每个月会在Facebook上逗留8个小时；必须承认，我更上瘾，可能一周就能达到这个数字。按我的说法，Facebook已逐步成为了“一种生活方式——这是一条令人兴奋的不归路，这条路我已经走了好几年，路牌就是各种动态的实时消息推送，我的心情会随着支持或跟帖人数的变化而起伏，时而沮丧至谷底，时而又志得意满。”对很多人来说，Facebook差不多就是互联网的全部。

    在这个过程中，我习惯了标注“喜欢”，期待朋友们也能这样做；习惯了在上传“我的照片”前进行修片，在看到我不上相的照片时则移除标签。（现在，我大多数时候也这么干。） 最糟糕的是，我花了大量时间结交“你可能认识的朋友”，建起了多达1,325人的朋友圈和11,370名订户。有些人确实是朋友，有些可能只是我在工作中遇到的、一起上过学、约会过或曾经希望能约会的人。还有些人可能是《财富》杂志（Fortune）的读者，当然对于这些人我心存感激。因此，可以说是Facebook唤醒、同时也助长了我内心强烈的自恋情结。

    然而几个月前，我和Facebook的关系触礁了。我希望随时登录Facebook的冲动一度变得如此难以遏制，以至于无论我是在家里、在地铁上、在办公室里都在不停地查看Facebook。如果由于某种原因无法登录，我就会感到很失意。直到有一天，我在健身房做仰卧起坐的间隙都在通过手机更新Facebook消息推送时，我才意识到自己对Facebook中毒已深。等一会儿再看，又会怎样？当然不会怎样。但在我坐在仰卧起坐的长凳上抱怨手机信号不好时，你最好别跟我说这话。

    如果出现冲突，我想理由可不只是“健身房怒火”（gym rage）那么简单。以Facebook当前的架构，如果不能时不时地关注一下这个社交网站上的各种信息，就会感到要落伍了。曾经相对简单的操控界面如今已有点像游戏魔兽世界（World of Warcraft）的繁忙屏幕。消息推送（News Feed）将各种更新分为头条消息（Top Stories）和最新消息（Recent Stories），我从来也用不上这项功能。而直播栏实时记录下朋友们的每个举动。这理论上听起来很棒，但事实上更多地会分散视觉注意力。

    隐私过去（对我而言）也不是个问题，直到最近。Facebook的魅力一度在于其投射的专属感，一个封闭的虚拟空间只向一小部分朋友开放，在这里我可以畅所欲言。但现在我每次发帖，都会亲自编辑一下。在某种程度上，家人、同事、职场伙伴以及很多其他人都可以看到我的个人信息和消息更新，因此我只发布相当友善的信息、图片以及链接，因为它们才适宜面向最广大的受众。当然，我也可以创建不同的Facebook朋友群，选择哪些人能看到或不能看到我的更新，但分组和维护的工作量太大了。

    When Facebook finally goes public it'll be a big moment for Silicon Valley, not only because it may be the biggest tech IPO ever but also because it will validate the social network's staggering growth to date. When I joined, it was a barebones college-only online community where we could talk about courses, dorm life, and stalk that one hot classmate in East Asian History. Now it's the Internet site people spend the most time on, with 800 million active users from ages 13 up uploading 250 milion photos a day.

    In the U.S., the average user spends eight hours a month on Facebook; the self-admitted addict I am likely clocks that much in a week. To quote myself, Facebook eventually became "a way of life -- a heady, nonstop road I've traveled along for years, where street signs are replaced with dynamic real-time news feeds, and my fragile ego can be crushed or swelled with pride depending on the number of people who deign to like or, even better, comment on my posts." Heck, for many Facebook practically is the Internet.

    I used to "Like" statuses hoping friends returned the favor, retouch "Photos of Me" before they went up, untag those that didn't portray me in a petroleum-slathered, soft light. (For the most part, I still do.) Worst of all, I spent hours crawling "Friends You May Know," building up a legion of 1,325 friends and 11,370 subscribers. Some of these people really are friends. Some are people I may have come across at work, gone to school with, dated or wished I'd dated. Others still are likely Fortune readers, to whom I am grateful. So it's safe to say Facebook awakened and armed a narcissistic beast in me.

    Then a few months ago, my relationship with Facebook hit bottom. The compulsion to log on reached a point where I checked Facebook incessantly at home, on the train, and at work. When for some reason I couldn't sign on, I became frustrated. It was only when I found myself refreshing the News Feed on my phone between crunches at the gym that I realized the extent of my addiction. Would it be a big deal if I waited until afterwards to check? Well, of course not. But try telling that to me as I cursed my phone reception atop the sit-up bench.

    I like to think there's a reason for that incident beyond a mild case of "gym rage." The way Facebook is structured now, you feel like if you don't dip your toes into the social network's stream of information for a second here, a minute there, you will miss out. The dashboard, once a study in relative simplicity, vaguely resembles a busy screen from World of Warcraft. The News Feed breaks up updates by Top and Recent Stories, a distinction I've never needed. And the live ticker chronicles the minute moves of friends as they happen, which sounds great in theory, but is more a visual distraction in practice.

    Privacy wasn't an issue (for me) until lately. Facebook's charm once lay in the feeling of exclusivity it projected, a closed off virtual playground open only to a smallish group of friends where I could communicate without second thought. Now when I do so, I edit myself. To some extent, my profile and updates are visible to extended family, colleagues, professional connections, and a large number of others, so I post rather benign messages, images and links aimed at the largest common denominator. Sure, I could create different groups of Facebook friends and select who can and can't see my updates, but organizing and maintaining those groups is too much work.