Kennan Nibbler
Recently I took a good, hard look at myself and realized that I no longer fit my sexy internet alter ego, Lana del Rayna. Maybe that was giving my family of Facebook friends the wrong impression about what I’m really like in person. Perhaps they thought my life was like an Instagram, that I always wake up like this, and that I spend afternoons weaving flowers into my hair and hitting on bikers. Which in the past, anyone will tell you, was totally me. But I’m married now. I have a full time job. I don’t have time to search through filters and maintain a sexy, flawless physique anymore. And with those changes, I feel that my Facebook friends deserve to know the real, current me. Which is why on Facebook I became “Kennan Nibbler” **pronounced Keenan. Some of us were too hungover to spell correctly during the execution of this task.**
It started like this. I was half asleep and Collin was trying to convince me that his name was Keenan Nibbler. I didn’t believe him because I’m sharp as a tac. I told him that if his name was really Keenan Nibbler, he would change it on Facebook as proof. He would not take the leap. But that didn’t matter because it opened up the floor to a bigger conversation. It brought up some of those challenging life questions like “Who is Keenan Nibbler?” and “What would you do if you ran into some mundane status by a man you were SURE you’d never seen before called ‘Keenan Nibbler?’ These two questions sent us soaring. We, the residents of rural Japan who struggle everyday to make our own fun, now had something to do with our Sunday.
We could not stop giggling all morning just imagining people absentmindedly scrolling on their phones at dinner and announcing “Who THE FUCK is Keenan Nibbler?” We spent all morning coming up with his weird Facebook antics and back story. We found the perfect picture and executed the profile switch flawlessly** (except the spelling. So sue me.) Facebook, meet Kennan Nibbler.
Soon Facebook let us know exactly what they thought of Mr. Nibbler. They HATED him. They were collectively cringing. I began to receive worried texts and comments. People asked, “Was I having an Amanda Bynes level breakdown?” We couldn’t stop laughing at the hilarious unforetold affect of having Kennan as my new internet persona. People were either pissed or stressed. I had generously given this man a platform to share his thoughts but the world was concerned that I had been bested by a serial murderer. One that killed it’s victims and then took over their Facebooks. Or that I was using Facebook as a platform to confirm my current psychological breakdown. I lost countless Facebook friends (which was a calamity, not to be dramatic) because Kennan was so weird.
This only made us more obsessed with Kennan. The reactions fanned the flames of what would have only been a small fire. We couldn’t get Kennan off the mind. What made him so volatile?
Kennan was designed to be exactly the person we find so cringe-worthy on Facebook. He’s lonely and he sits behind his keyboard for social recognition, counting and re-counting the likes he gets. He trolls his feed to know just what everyone is up to. Outside Facebook, as far as we can tell, he has a bearded dragon that he dresses up. He was an almost perfect match for what my life is now like as opposed to my old rock and roll Lana lifestyle.
Coming up with Kennan made me think of all the other Kennan’s out there that myself, and others, are already Facebook friends with. Think of you’re FB friends who’s statuses are like reading the memoir of a dying baby bird. Why are they saying this to the internet? Oh god this is so awkward/sad/disturbing/private/weird ect. And I feel like the reactions I got from becoming Kennan were because people finally had someone to say what they want to say to all Kennans on their feed: STOP. YOU’RE MAKING US UNCOMFORTABLE.
Kennan is just one of a dozen Facebook archetypes that are ridiculously trope-y and boring in their multitudes. We could spend all day changing our profiles into caricatures of the Facebook world. But we are tied to the circus of it because it’s our weird way of keeping up with the human news in our lives. Which is important for those special someones sprawled over the globe. What I’ve found mind-numbingly boring about Facebook is that 1 out of 15 posts is relevant or of interest to me somehow. And 1 in 10 is checking in on that one guy I haven’t seen or heard from since we weren’t friends in Middle School.
Why did Kennan last so long? Because he somehow came to represent a little more to me than Sunday entertainment. I was protective of him and entertained by him, and addicted to the responses he was getting. I’m not a fan of Facebook. And I’ve gotten rid of it and gotten it back twice, once with a 6 month stint off the famous social networking system. I did that, and am always tempted to do it again because Facebook is a mile wide and an inch deep. What can be gained from it in breadth does not make up for it’s shallow interactions, or it’s infamous time-suck. I don’t think everyone uses Facebook irresponsibly, but I know that I get sucked into its trap. Letting the number of likes I get on something decide whether I’m a good writer, or funny, or interesting. I use it to keep up with friends by passively scrolling Facebook or liking a post. I start assuming that I know what their life is like based on their latest photo album. Facebook stops being something that I took at face value and I let what people post stand for an actual representation of themselves and their current life. Which means that all my Facebook friends are pretty happy on beaches somewhere right now.
Kennan stayed on my profile because he represents that Facebook has little correlation to my actual life. No matter how many pictures of me laughing with a cocktail or chilling with my strapping husband you find on my profile, those reflect nothing about my daily life or my relationships. I could never bring that type of depth to a social media page and I also wouldn’t want to. I want my relationships to be more personal than a like in a sea of Facebook. I want my self-worth to be tied to much more than the amount of likes I get on picture or status.
Kennan has made me want to get rid of my Facebook all over again. But I won’t, yet. I’ll try to cut down my digital friends that seem to absorb me even when I’m in the company of real ones. Either through Kennan (an excellent way to get de-friended and not have to do any of the work!) or through sorting through the masses of humanity that at one time or another I had decided I would want to stay in touch with forever. Maybe Kennan can also be a reminder to you. To stay in touch with people by doing more than liking their statuses. To take Facebook a little bit less seriously. And to focus on the image you portray without a screen. Facebook is only a system of branding. It’s okay if we pose as long as it looks candid. It’s okay if you’re Kennan Nibbler as long as you’re not actually Kennan Nibbler. So let your Facebook represent you to a point, but don’t let it fool you into thinking that it’s some sort of digitized reality. That it’s something more concrete than a page where a lazy morning can change your name and your picture and the general opinion of you. Facebook is a 2D sparknotes-ed version of yourself. Don’t let it’s self-importance distract you from all of your multifaceted lana/rayna/kennan selves. Live outside of Facebook. For me, a good reminder of doing that was letting someone else live in my Facebook for awhile. So thanks Kennan, for all of your creepy wisdom.
