From an early age, I think many of us have it drummed into us that sharing is the done thing and being generous with your stuff is a desirable quality. But, I got to thinking, and that's not always a good thing. Is sharing really all that great? I mean yes, giving someone your last Rolo is all very nice and everything, but what happens when sharing goes too far? I say this because I am mutual friends with a few, 'over-sharers' on Facebook. You know the kind. Car. Crash. TV. I'm all for not judging people, but when you read a status update about someone's intimate fungal infection, it's pretty hard to not let your jaw drop to the floor.
Moving on from frightening visuals, it seems that with the rise of social media, many people have shed their inhibitions and plastered great quantities of their life on the internet for the world to see. I get what you're thinking, us bloggers are not exempt from this; however I do like to think that I maintain some level of privacy and should I so happen to have a blazing row with my partner, resulting in one or both of us checking into a hotel room and spending the night sending passive-aggressive text messages to one another, I wouldn't go advertising the details on Facebook for nosey bastards like myself to enjoy. It makes uncomfortable reading in the kind of way where you want to keep going and read it all, but every fibre of your body is cringing so hard that you begin to worry about developing a hernia.
What gets to me about the over-sharers are the ones that document every fart of their children. Don't get me wrong, I am all for sharing precious moments online, but when it's graphic information of little Bob shitting himself in the local supermarket, I can't help but wonder if that snippet of information will ever come back to haunt him in ten years time when he's making new friend's in high-school. It scares me a little. Perhaps I fall into the last generation where my childhood was documented by crap quality photo prints from Max Speilmann and my embarrassing moments hidden away in a leather-bound album, buried deep in the back of my Mum's wardrobe. I'm grateful that the world of Facebook hasn't seen me in the bath with my lady bits out, before I'd even matured enough to consider the thought of having a boyfriend. I'm not saying that if by some miraculous feat of nature, I end up with a child, that I won't ever post pictures on my Facebook. I just worry about what's in store for the generation of 'naughties' kids in the future.
Maybe society has evolved in the wake of the social media era and people are a lot more candid these days. Maybe it's a good thing and maybe I need to get with the times. Who knows?
