Published in The Siskiyou, May 22, 2006

Do you gain inexplicable pleasure from reading your friends’ MySpace surveys? Do you find yourself reposting them with your own answers? Do you wonder why you are drawn to such behavior? Me too.

There is no question that MySpace.com is a burgeoning form of communication. No question that students ask “Do you have a MySpace?” more than they ask for a phone number or an email address. It took me awhile to get on board, but once I signed up for my very own profile, I became increasingly—and hopelessly—hooked.

There is one aspect of MySpace that particularly intrigues me, and that is the abundance of question-and-answer bulletins. Why are they so appealing? Why do we get such a satisfaction from filling them out? And why does a greater percentage get posted during finals week or by my fellow classmates right before a big Spanish exam?

Most people on my friends list I know personally, and as a recent victim of identity theft, I’m rather wary of sharing information. On MySpace, however, there are those who I let slip through my radar: students I see walking across campus, sitting in the computer lab, buying a double espresso before an eight o’clock class… and sharing the same friends with me outside of cyberspace. I have never had an actual conversation with these relative strangers, but because we both answer the same bulletins, I know pointless information like their favorite color or how many pairs of shoes they own or the name of their first dog. And rather than being annoyed by such an inorganic form of conversation, I feel connected. And rather than rallying against this incessant craze, I post back.

We students at Southern Oregon University spend hours each week taking in information. We memorize facts, we form opinions about things we have read, we analyze and critique. We become walking encyclopedias. We receive grades on exams and papers and oral presentations. Sometimes the sheer volume of information being poured into our brains can be a bit overwhelming. Our heads begin spinning with all it must retain and regurgitate. The more we must retain the more we feel our own selves slipping away, especially right before one of these academic regurgitations.

It’s no wonder then that bulletins provide us some relief. It gives structure to our muddled brains and identity to our vesseled selves. Finally someone is asking us questions that are easy to answer. Finally our dog’s name has value. Finally we can write something down that won’t receive a grade and have a sense that our own selves are coming back into the forefront. And not only does it provide order to brains muddled by academia, but it also provides order to our muddled lives. After all, it’s not just school that gets complicated—there’s also our recent breakup or our sick father or wondering what to do with the rest of our lives. Our minds reel with all that cannot be answered. But answer a bulletin and things become ordered. Answer a bulletin and it all makes sense. One, two, three, this is me. Clear for all the world to see.

Copyright © 2005 Shannon Luders-Manuel