The Ant Invasion

I hate ants. Currently, they are attempting to take my kitchen, my bathroom, and my bedroom by force. They are everywhere. When I open my chemistry book, little red ants stream from the pages. My cabinets have been stained red by all of the ant carcasses. I brush the ants off my toothbrush each morning and night. They took over my peanut butter and jelly sandwich but I ate it. What is one ant anyway? Besides, this is personal. These ants are more than ants. They are a worthy opponent. Individually, they are insignificant, but en masse they have added an extra dimension of aggravation my existence. Strangely, I am addicted to Facebook. Before I open my chemistry book I have to log on to check the current status of my friends. Facebook is in the background as I eat or go to bed. When I see others checking their Facebook, I can feel the need to visit my own. A single Facebook account would hold no value but the network of accounts that exists makes Facebook a force to be reckoned with. Much like the formidable red ants, Facebook holds its power in its numbers. The allure of Facebook is not easily pinpointed but the ease with which one can create and share in the collective human experience is certainly one of its attractions.

While this connectivity is appealing, social networking comes at a price. Facebook alerted me when my best friend broke up with her boyfriend before she had told me herself. Personal information that was previously somewhat guarded is now available to anyone who cares to look. The impersonal nature of this communication creates disconnect in an increasingly disjointed society. While I love Facebook for the easy perusing of lives it makes available, I must remind myself that what I am experiencing is superficial. The cost of mass access in the case of Facebook is a loss of the deeper connections with which the web of society used to be constructed.

Now, these ants, like Facebook, control me. As I give into their power as a whole, I lose my own autonomy. I do not recognize any of the ants individually, but rather their effect as a whole. My life is no longer my own, but it is shared by the ants and the networks as we tend toward symbiosis. I have found that I cannot fight this process. I no longer grimace as I flick the red dots off my toothbrush. To learn that my friend is in town through Facebook rather than the telephone is no longer jarring. The family of eight residing in my text book greets me warmly every time I leaf through to find a problem. My friends’ profiles have come to replace their emails and phone calls. My popcorn is there for the ants if they want it. My story has been offered to the network. I can only hope it does not swallow me as I swallowed the ants that seemed so insignificant in my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.