MEMOIR
Friending and Remembering
Signing on and signing off
TW: this piece contains mention of suicide.
The year is 2008 and I’m standing in my town’s ice skating rink in a Tony Hawk hoodie. I can see my breath floating out in front of me and solemnly toward the ceiling with each new exhale. I’m in the long adjoining room beside the main rink and I’m frozen meekly beside a vending machine equipped with Cup O’ Noodles. Veronica is standing across the room from me and she looks as nervous to approach me as I do her.
We’ve been going back and forth on Facebook for weeks but we haven’t yet spoken in person. These early days of social media are an odd scramble for connection. We revel in our growing friends lists and we send out barrages of pokes and requests with a wanton disregard. It’s a strange new terrain for all of us. We have no idea yet what any of these platforms will turn into, just that we can spill our hearts out to strangers as we shelter behind screens. There’s an odd security in the removal.
A powerful authenticity dominates our early digital lives. We can express in chat bubbles the thoughts that go unspoken. We post on caprices with an unrepeatable naivety. We toss into the world the unbridled thoughts of hormone racing minds. It’s a Wild West of unrestrained whimsy, and we haven’t yet…
