I will admit that I am very prone to not logging out, which is the first step in every Facebook debacle. I leave myself exposed and for that I’m oftentimes punished. My friends have made me a fan of things like “The Third Reich,” “polio,” and even “microwaves that don’t work.” These are all a little off-putting, but certainly not earth shattering. Yet recently, a friend took it a little too far.

When I went to the library for the night, I left my computer on my bed with my Facebook inevitably open. My friend must have come into my room looking for an Oreo, seen the open Facebook and pounced. He did as he pleased with it and then to make matters worse, evidently took an Oreo on the way out.

Walking back from the library later that night, I checked my phone. I was greeted with a text from my mom that read, “you sure you okay?” and a voicemail from my dad saying “just wanted to let you know and remind you that your pappy and nanny are going to see this.” As I was walking up the stairs, my friend asked me “what’d you exactly do at the library?” Something was up and I hoped to god it wasn’t that I had inadvertently mooned all of References and somehow Anderson Cooper had picked the story up.

I ran to my computer in a panic, and saw something far worse than I could have ever imagined: my friend had me a fan of 79 sex-related pages. Whether it was “sex on safari,” “sex while wearing socks,” or “sex in a hovercraft,” I would be receiving regular updates about it. It would take hours to get rid of all the pages and years to dispel the rumor that I was that creepy kid, either the one who thought this stuff was funny or the one who was in awe of people who enjoyed having “sex with a chimney sweeper.” This was bad, really bad.

There was nothing I could do though; I had homework so I let it be, just waiting for a moment to strike back. I started noticing people shooting me dirty looks while I was walking down Sheridan. While showing a slide of a nude bust of a woman from Ancient Greece, I swear that my ancient art history TA gave me the stink eye. I wanted to send out e-mails over every listserv imaginable that it wasn’t me, I wasn’t the weirdo. But there was nothing I could do.

Then one day, my friend who had single-handedly sabotaged my life and any future prospects of a job or a wife of any kind left his computer on his seat while running to the bathroom during class. I had to act quickly on this golden opportunity as I knew time was fleeting. With the adrenaline rushing, with all of those dirty looks and texts running through my mind, all I could think of was “my butt is itchy.” It wasn’t even true for me at the time, but I thought it would be a death blow; nothing in my mind could possibly be more embarrassing.

So, with a slight smirk, I alerted the whole world to the slight irritation on my neighbor’s behind. Either his friends were wearing cheaply made denim and also were beginning to get a rash or maybe they just found his honesty refreshing, because all of them loved it. In either scenario, I was the loser.

Yet, as the comments continued to pour in, I began to realize that people don’t take Facebook as seriously as I once thought. Every time someone said “you should get some cream for that dude” or “maybe you should try sleeping on your stomach tonight,” I relaxed a little. As demonstrated by his friends, Facebook statuses are not representative of a person. Facebook is such a major part of our lives that we forget we can get rid of it at anytime. If Jason’s status says, “nothing starts the day off like eating poo for breakfast,” it’s probably not true. On the off chance that that morning routine does in fact keep Jason going throughout the day, then it’s probably for the best that people don’t believe him anyway.

However, the page has a much greater purpose in the realm of Northwestern football. Through social media outlets such as Facebook and Twitter, Fitzgerald has revolutionized recruiting and marketing for the football team.

Fitzgerald says that he loves using Facebook and Twitter because of their dual impact.

“I think [Twitter’s] a good way to market our program to our fans,” Fitzgerald said. “[Facebook] is a great way to put a face with an email — and all guys like looking at pictures.”

As shown by the recent giveaway of shirts for his Facebook friends, the marketing department has taken advantage of Fitzgerald’s Facebook and Twitter pages.

Weinberg freshman Daniel Oh got the shirt for being in the marching band, but later friended Fitzgerald because of his star status on campus.

“At first I didn’t even know he had a Facebook and I thought it was pretty cool. [Fitzgerald running it] is what I was hoping for,” Oh said.

Other students, such as McCormick sophomore Jenny Saluk, became one of Fitzgerald’s 2,662 friends to date after hearing about a similar promotion for a free purple towel last fall.

“All you had to do was friend Fitz on Facebook,” Saluk said. “I was in the mode where all I wanted was free gear from Northwestern.”

Like his Facebook page, his Twitter account has had an impact. After 341 tweets, Fitzgerald has accumulated more than 1,500 followers. While Fitz may not understand the trends and rationale behind the social media movement, he’s sure thankful for the interest it has drawn.

“This time last year we didn’t have Twitter and I still don’t know what it means,” Fitzgerald said. “I still don’t know why anybody cares what I’m doing but I think it’s kind of cool.”

Marketing isn’t the only place where Fitzgerald’s use of social media has had a profound effect, though.

For many recruits, Facebook is a much easier communication tool. Rashad Lawrence, a high school senior wide receiver from Orlando, Fla. who has already committed to the ‘Cats, said that the use of Facebook helped humble Fitzgerald.

“It makes him a little more down to earth,” Lawrence said. “Some coaches think they are way up on the pedestal and won’t come down when they talk to you. Contact on Facebook and stuff like that makes me feel more comfortable.”

This level of comfort has its pitfalls. The photographs on a potential recruit’s page may affect his scholarship status. While Fitzgerald has never rescinded an offer based on a Facebook page, he has recommended that some change what’s on their page, and has talked to them about the reasons behind the pictures.

Freshman halfback Mike Trumpy said that he attributes Fitzgerald’s technological savvy to his youth.

“It’s kind of unique because obviously not a lot of other coaches do that,” Trumpy said. “It shows how Fitz is – he’s a young guy who’s trying to relate to the student-athletes.”

Quarterback Trevor Siemian, a fellow commit and teammate of Lawrence, said that Fitzgerald’s youth, energy and openness helped convince him to attend Northwestern.

“I was kind of looking for that when I was looking at schools. I wanted to play for an upbeat and energetic guy and I think Fitz fits the bill,” Siemian said. “Coach Fitz is young and relates well. He’s not that far removed from college ball so I was almost looking for that in particular — the younger and more energetic coach.”

Luckily for Siemian, Trumpy said that Fitzgerald brings the same energy and passion seen in recruitment to the football field.

“He really brings up the mood in practice because he’s so fun and enthusiastic and always having a good time,” Trumpy said. “He’s always trying to get us up and it really helps and makes practice a lot of fun.”

While young adults still hold the majority of profiles, the 35-and-older group is the fastest-growing demographic on Facebook. And for students here at Northwestern, that includes our professors and TAs.

Political science professor Jerry Goldman says he created his Facebook profile two years ago and checks the site daily. “I was curious about social networking, so I decided to give it a try.”

Goldman, who has 122 friends, says while he is friends with some of his students, he tries to only include people with whom he has a genuine connection. “The freshmen in my seminar last year thought [my Facebook page] was cool,” Goldman says. “They could see some of the pictures I posted, like my dogs in their Halloween costumes or of me with my family. I don’t mind sharing that. But some stuff, like if I find a new scotch, doesn’t need to be shared.”

And Goldman holds the same attitude towards his students’ profiles. “Facebook paints a wide picture of someone,” he says. “I don’t want to know how many students get shitfaced drunk and how often they party. It’s okay for me to communicate, but not to investigate.”

Just because your professor is on Facebook doesn’t mean you have to grant them access to your profile. However, some students enjoy the opportunity to get to know their professors outside of the classroom setting.

Weinberg sophomore Derek Kiebala, one of Goldman’s students last year, didn’t seem bothered by extending his hand in Facebook friendship. “I figured it would be a good way to get to know him a little more personally, by being able to click through his profile and by opening up mine to him,” he says. “I thought it was pretty cool to be Facebook friends with a professor.”

While many students try to rack up their friend count past the thousands, most professors value each accepted friend request. Medill professor Loren Ghiglione is one of many new users who use Facebook to reconnect with old friends, not make new ones. Decades after his high school graduation, Ghiglione has found a way to bring his past to the forefront. “I went to a high school that no longer exists, and I’m in the class of ’59 and we had a 50th reunion,” he says. “Facebook was one of the mechanisms that people used and I think it served a useful role there.”

But as Ghiglione has discovered, Facebook can forge new connections as well as old. The vast social network extends beyond just high school girlfriends or childhood neighbors. Ghiglione has been exploring his personal past for a project he’s started. “I’m thinking about [writing] a book on identity in America and for that, I want to begin by researching my great-grandparents who came from Italy as indentured servants.”

For Ghiglione, Facebook has proved a valuable tool in furthering his research. “So I’m going to Italy in a few weeks and I’ve been interested in finding people, the Ghigliones. When somebody, even if I don’t know them and they have the same last name, contacts me, I say yes. It’s an interesting device that way,” says Ghiglione.

Even teaching assistants communicate through Facebook, but that shouldn’t be so surprising. Many of them joined the social networking site while it was still only open to college students. English TA Rachel Blumenthal created her profile her senior year. She says she still regularly checks it, but mostly focuses on her friends, not her students.

As for the immediate future, Goldman has a plan on how to update his profile next. “I’ll probably put on my Facebook page that I just had an interview with North by Northwestern. Maybe even have a link to this article when it’s published.”

Wipe that awkward face off — it’s not really that bad. Photo by shakestercody on Flickr, licensed under the Creative Commons.

When I first arrived at Northwestern, I mistakenly believed that Wildcat Welcome Week was a fairly accurate representation of my impending college experience. Life seemed to be defined by perpetual friendliness, qualm-free introductions and somewhat seamless (although slightly scripted) conversations. Sans the name games, the Freshman Freeze and the mind-numbing Essential NUs, school seemed fairly straightforward. Meeting people was easy, the “where are you from?” query never got old, and — most refreshingly of all — amid the chaos and the novelty, awkwardness was limited. I lapped up the Welcome Week Kool-Aid and, momentarily, everything was simple.

But this environment of artificial effortlessness was short-lived. By the time classes began, I realized that Northwestern was in no way immune to the phenomenon that has come to personify an era. With its cherished familiarity and guaranteed laughs, “awkward” has effectively described everything from interactions to individuals — and yet, in all its ubiquity, has grown a little stale. However, as ardently as we attempt to criticize this word’s blatant overuse, we can’t seem to escape it. There simply has never been anything that so readily and succinctly encapsulates our daily happenings or, quite frankly, us. We are an inevitably awkward generation.

Stumbling upon several of my parents’ old photo albums over the summer, I remember confronting images of the carefree nonconformity and laid-back comfort so romanticized by the 1960s and ’70s. My parents — hair wind-bound, a beat-up Buick their frequent backdrop — seemed to smirk at me from their vantage point of free-spirited, unruffled coolness. So what went awry? What prompted this transition from communal van rides and thinning inhibitions to feigning interest in something inside your bag when passing a lesser-known acquaintance, or tainting a perfectly decent conversation with an uncomfortable silence? How did James Dean become Michael Cera?

Technology, however much me may adore it, carries much of the blame. Thanks to the pervasiveness of texting and of course, the beloved societal monopoly that is Facebook, we continue to drift further away from genuine communication. I once talked to someone at a party who, after the standard introductions, proceeded to inform me, “I think I’ve seen you in someone’s profile picture.” I have also prematurely mentioned a person’s obsession with a particular band within seconds of meeting — only later to realize that this knowledge was acquired solely thanks to the wonders of “Info”… and that I probably sounded incredibly sketchy.

As human contact dissolves into commitment-free abbreviations or witty wall posts that you have ages to concoct, it’s no wonder that face-to-face encounters are riddled with awkwardness. Referring to Facebook in real life? Awkward. Spotting a former hook-up and exchanging forced head nods? Awkward. Waving to someone who was actually greeting the person behind you? Awkward.

Not to say that everything we do is marred by social incompetence. We have all experienced the drunken, “You’re in my Euro History discussion!” moment and the fleeting bond that soon forms. A phone number trade may ultimately occur or, more likely, a Facebook friendship will be spawned the following morning. But often, from that point on the link either fades or cedes to the realm of virtual event invitations and Facebook messages. It becomes something of a desperate cycle: We seek the snug confines of these hassle-free social institutions in order to mask our own insecurities, and yet our reliance on these means causes actual personal contact to be anything but graceful.

The truth is, this isn’t necessarily a problem. It makes sense that shows like The Office and Arrested Development (R.I.P) have attracted hordes of devoted viewers. It’s no coincidence that John Hamburg’s I Love You, Man, a film that primarily capitalizes on Paul Rudd’s cringeworthy faux pas and blunders, grossed $17.8 million in its first weekend of release. Awkward is endearing. Awkward is, in some ways, the one thing that all of our divergent, disparate lives may share.

So we are an awkward generation and in turn, Northwestern is an awkward school. The question is, who cares? There is something almost charming about these gawky leanings. In our collective bouts of foolishness, we can willingly laugh at ourselves and in turn, unite. After all, what would this school be without those frantic, miscalculated sprints at the crosswalk by the Arch, or the overzealous Keg encounters that dissolve to mere mumblings the following Tuesday on Sheridan? Leave the prim, pompous self-assurance to the Ivies. Northwestern is awkward, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

My favorite new hobby: Liking a Facebook status that shouldn’t be liked. I mean, let’s be honest — there are people on your Facebook you barely know, but hate with every ounce of your being. If Chuck Klosterman were writing this post, they would be those people you have sex with once because you hate them. They’re your guilty pleasures.

Too bad Facebook doesn’t have a “dislike this” option. That would be even more fun considering how overwhelmingly happy most updates are. Facebook, take note.

We’ve all been there, faced with the question, “Gee, do I really want my friend’s cousin’s neighbor’s sister knowing who I’m dating?” It’s a tough decision. While some may choose not to post their relationship status in order to maintain privacy, others like the idea of letting the world know they’re in a relationship. Still others may post their status just to appease their significant other.

Couples may also encounter problems when they post questionable photos of themselves with other people, or send flirty, suggestive messages to others without realizing these acts are broadcast to hundreds or thousands of people. And even though many people are able to maintain healthy Facebook relations, others have encountered problems, even going so far as to say that Facebook ruined their relationship (ironically, several “Facebook ruined my relationship” groups exist). I surveyed 65 anonymous Facebook users through SurveyMonkey about their own experience with relationships on the social networking site, and 45 percent of respondents reported that Facebook caused snafus with their significant others.

Why do so many couples have problems maintaining a Facebook relationship? Since there is no set list of rules to follow when “going Facebook official” and dealing with the aftermath, Facebook couples are left to trust their instincts. Based on the results of my survey, I compiled a list of simple dating tips for Northwestern’s couples to help keep Facebook from causing that little broken cartoon heart.

Anticipate humiliation.

Before you agree to go public on Facebook, think about the consequences of releasing the details of your love life to all of your Facebook friends. You’ll have to come to terms with the fact that everything on your Facebook can be seen by your partner and, in most cases, his or her friends.

Be aware that any questionable photos or messages can pop up on people’s News Feeds. One Facebook user’s girlfriend was sending flirty messages to another guy, and it showed up on everyone’s News Feed. Not only could everyone see that his girlfriend was in a relationship, but also that she was clearly interested in someone else.

According to several survey respondents, humiliation (whether it comes from announcing a break-up or finding questionable items on your significant other’s Facebook) is one of the hazards you risk when posting your status. You need to decide if it is a risk you’re willing to take.

Make sure to have “the talk.”

When my boyfriend asked me if I wanted to put our relationship status on Facebook, I said no. I valued my privacy and I was afraid of what would happen if we broke up and everyone heard about it through their News Feeds. This upset him; he thought I was unsure about our relationship and that I didn’t want other guys knowing I was no longer available. When I saw how important it was to him, I agreed to put it up.

I’m not alone. Sixty percent of the respondents to my survey said they’ve felt pressure for people to post their relationship status. Some insisted that it shows a sense of pride in one’s relationship and commitment. One user was even threatened with a break-up if she did not agree to tell the world she had a boyfriend.

Regardless of your feelings on the issue, you should always consult your partner before you post. One respondent said that her boyfriend posted before asking her to be his girlfriend, which naturally led to confusion. Figure out whether you are in a relationship, in an open relationship, or if it’s “complicated” (I’m hoping it’s clear to you if you are engaged or married) before taking the plunge.

Keep photos with other guys/girls PG, and keep your on-the-side flirting off camera.

This should be a no-brainer, but if you are in a relationship, do not post photos of you kissing any other person but your significant other, or doing anything questionable that might make him or her upset or suspicious. Really, this is just asking for trouble. One user of the site found out that his girlfriend was sending out naked photos of herself through Facebook messages. If celebs can get caught sending out nude photos, so can you. Make use of the untag feature if foul play has been caught on camera.

The majority of Facebook relationship troubles, however, were due to flirtatious messages. It’s bad enough to kiss and tell, but don’t kiss and tell every one of your facebook friends. One Facebook user said that she found out her boyfriend was gay by reading his messages.

Also, if you want your relationship to work, sending the gift of handcuffs to a person other than your significant other is not a step in the right direction. One user noticed her boyfriend sent another girl the Facebook gift of handcuffs with a private message. She became suspicious, and it turned out he was cheating on her with this girl. If you want to remain attached, do not send the pink thong, a heart, or something equally suggestive to a person other than your significant other unless is it clearly a joke. If a friend or ex is sending you suggestive videos or messages (and you are not reciprocating), just delete them. This will show your significant other that you are only focused on them and no one else.

Keep a low profile if you and your BF/GF break up.

While you may want all of your Facebook friends to see your relationship status when you are with someone, you may not necessarily want them to read on their Newsfeed that the love bird has flown the coop. Tell the people you want to (instead of that guy who sat next to you in freshman year Spanish and your next door neighbors cousin) and disable your relationship feed and status before you break up on Facebook. ]]> http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2009/04/29365/to-go-facebook-official-or-not-to-go-facebook-official/feed/ 0 http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2009/02/24548/how-quitting-facebook-reminded-me-of-the-importance-of-having-a-good-old-fashioned-conversation/ http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2009/02/24548/how-quitting-facebook-reminded-me-of-the-importance-of-having-a-good-old-fashioned-conversation/#comments Thu, 26 Feb 2009 02:06:06 +0000 Hannah VanderPoel http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/?p=24548

Facebook is everywhere: You’re sitting in Norbucks, biding away precious study hours surfing Facebook. While copying all of the important social events you were Facebook-invited to into your iCal, you suddenly run into that hot guy from your Poli Sci lecture. The second he’s out of sight, you embark on a cyber stalk-fest. Is he single? Alas, it appears he has a girlfriend. You’d stalk her too –- if only you had access to her private profile. Well, at least you spared yourself any extra effort expended on his behalf. Before you log out, you are luckily reminded that your best friend’s birthday is tomorrow. You make a mental note to wall-post congratulate her, and thank your lucky stars that Facebook has saved you from another near-miss.

But Facebook’s omnipresence is spreading past your inner circle of friends. The latest Facebook controversy resulted in a return to an older version of its Terms of Use after a debate sparked worrying claims that Facebook owned all content posted to the site in perpetuity. Some are rethinking their dedication to the social networking site after realizing their “private” information may not be as private as they thought.

There’s no doubt about it — we owe a lot to Facebook these days. But are we too dependent? This is a question I have grappled with for quite some time. From the first day I uploaded my profile pic, my attitude towards the site has been one of bipolar love and hate. While the strange freedom to stalk almost anyone is understandably addicting, it always made me feel a teeny bit shameful — not to mention unsatisfied. After almost three years of wild vacillation between loathing and loving the ‘book, I reached a breaking point. I could no longer reconcile my stalkerish tendencies with my image of myself as a normal person. And that’s why several weeks ago I made the most drastic decision a modern collegian can make: I, Hannah VanderPoel, deactivated my Facebook.

Ultimately, my own self-prescribed hiatus from Facebook was fueled by three factors. One was to rid my life of unnecessary distraction, mostly in an attempt to finish my homework. The second was the hope of re-learning how to socialize in ways that don’t involve typing public messages to profile avatars that serve as pixeled representations of real people. Thirdly, it was the desire to regain the sense of personal privacy that I surrendered three years ago when I first created my account –- a move that I am retrospectively thankful for, given the controversy surrounding the site’s privacy policies (or lack thereof).

But mostly it was just to see what life is like off-line. After almost an entire college career spent broadcasting my life on the web, and in anticipation of next year’s job search, I was itching to reinvest in both some discretion and some quality face-to-face time with my friends. The truth is, I realized that I don’t really want strangers ogling at my hobbies and political views via Internet. I don’t want potential employers sniffing out pictorial evidence of past drunken hijinks. And I certainly don’t want a barrage of consolation messages when my mini-feed informs the entire Western world that I’ve just Facebook-broken up with my boyfriend (because everyone knows that it’s not really over until it’s Facebook-over.)

Quitting Facebook is kind of like quitting your job. It’s hard to do, but harder still is breaking the news to your nearest and dearest. Some even seemed slightly offended, as though my failure to continue our friendship via Facebook somehow diminished our friendship in real life. Reactions were not the ones of indifference that I’d expected, but ones of worry and fear: “Are you okay? Do you need to talk to someone about this? How will you know what’s going on?” Most assumed it was a minor blip, a short bout of a predictable mid-college crisis that is the twenty-something equivalent to purchasing a Ferrari — a kick that would last a couple weeks max, after which I would regain my senses and return to normal. Several times I heard the same old adage: “I’ll give you a week.”

After so much skepticism, it admittedly became harder to stick to my guns. A barrage of doubtful reactions began to make me wonder if my decision was impulsive, or whether or not it meant I was just plain starting to lose it. I think the pinnacle was when someone asked me point-blank if I had social issues. (A personal note: I am not socially-phobic. The whole point of quitting was to put more stock in my social world, not my cyber one.) But I began to wonder if I really was trying to get away from something by abandoning Facebook. In retrospect, I know this isn’t the case. Getting acclimated to life sans Facebook took some getting used to, so in hindsight the weirdness was normal.

I no longer dwindle away the hours by creepily stalking my TAs or passing sarcastic judgment on questionable people I barely know. But there are a few cons as well — the difficulty of keeping up with my brother in New York, or my best friend from high school who just left to study abroad in New Zealand. (My mother on finding out I’d ditched my account: “But how will we know if your brother is still alive, he never picks up his phone!” I told her just to ask my Facebook-savvy dad.) Even though I know I am technically still able to communicate, there is no denying that Facebook just makes things easier.

As for the big question of whether I plan on staying off the ’book permanently, that remains to be seen. For now, I am satisfied enough without it. But if and when I do go back, it will be with a different (and most likely healthier) attitude. Oddly enough, quitting Facebook has made me realize how much I took the accessibility for granted and how much I managed to abuse it. When Mark Zuckerberg gave birth to this Frankenstein juggernaut in 2004, I doubt he did it with the desire to ruin college kid’s lives (and GPAs) by luring them into a time-wasting trap. The site was created for the same reason that most mass technology is — to communicate. Shooting the odd wall post to your friend across the country is much different than stalking the pants off someone you barely know.

So am I happy without Facebook? Yes, I would say that I generally am. Is my social life suffering? Not to speak of. Sure, I no longer instantly know when one of my friends has changed his or her musical tastes, but I think I’ll get by. There’s certainly something to be said for life outside the well-formatted text boxes of www.facebook.com; it’s kind of like taking a giant breath of fresh air. Is it tempting to want to go back to the privilege and convenience of having a cyber self?Have I realized I’d rather spend the all-too few hours in a day seeing my friends face to face rather than from behind a screen?

Unquestionably.

But don’t fret! This removal isn’t permanent, as BK is working on making the application work within the site’s parameters. Start friending a bunch of strangers so you can sacrifice them to the King a week from now.

Bonus seven-minute video of the Whopper Sacrifice in action:

At 1:35 a.m. the assault on my room commenced. Repeated pounding on the door woke me and somehow I sensed the presence of numerous energetic young men poised for battle in Willard’s well-lit hallway. In this groggy half-dream reality they were pirates: swarthy, unclean, armed with the fiercest array of buccaneer-gear imaginable. (Only the middle descriptor turned out to be true.)

“Nicholas Castele! Nicholas Castele! Open up!”

The pounding continued, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer the call to confront these intruders. What’s holding me back? I wondered. Perhaps it was the extra layer of comfort-foam my mom had added to my mattress before she left, or the prospect of a twisted ankle suffered in the leap from my top-bunk perch. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

“Seriously, open the door, man!”

“Be right there,” I heard myself reply. But still I did not move.

Then they were upon me. They opened the door themselves and invaded the room, yelling like predators desperate for blood. As doom approached, I could ask myself only one question. How the hell did I get here?

* * * * *

Some eons ago, all my friends had abandoned me for a bunch of colleges on semesters. They left me no choice but to salvage my sinking social life by diving into the world of Northwestern in any way possible…mainly through Facebook. I spent the rest of the summer accepting random friend requests from freshmen as lost and lonely as I was.

Soon I almost had more Northwestern Facebook friends than real friends. In the realm of meaningless virtual relationships I was pretty damn popular. Case in point: even Phaiye Blaount, the manufactured online personality and NU “freshman” with a name weirder than that of anyone in Sarah Palin’s family, commented on my wall. Seriously. We would have had a great conversation, too, if she hadn’t been outed as a fake. Funny how most girls in the stories I tell turn out to be fictional. But I digress.

The approximate month of Facebook-Friending Fun ended with an abrupt shift into Wildcat Welcome Week. It seemed that I fell asleep in Cleveland and awoke in Chicago. Before I could even get my bearings, I was marched through the sorority quad with a pillow in one hand and a dehumidifier in the other. My parents followed proudly, carrying the specialized dorm accoutrements they had purchased months ago. For the next two hours they schlepped boxes into my room, arranging everything with the careful knowledge that this was their last chance to prepare a home for me.

Then they were gone. Their arrival and departure felt almost instantaneous. I sat at my desk, shocked and alone. There was nothing to do but forsake all sense of safety and explore this new world. I left my room and paced the halls, looking for open doors, for equally confused Willardites eager for awkward introductions. Over the next few days a glob of acquaintances congealed, solid and vibrant like Jell-O. People entered the group and left it, but enough stayed to form the basis of a community. Willard’s second floor, Woo-Two, was born. We left our doors open and blared music from portable iPod speakers. We visited each other with indiscriminate abandon, often at obscenely late hours of the night. We talked and did our own laundry and learned to live as independents.

The hardest work—acclimation—was finished. What’s next? we collectively wondered. The answer arose in the freshman groupthink like a nascent salamander emerging from primordial ooze. Get involved, the disembodied impulse said. And we did. Some ran for student government or joined Indian dancing ensembles. Some attended any meeting possible, scavenging for free food. I tried out for a capella groups.

A capella auditions challenged the aura of security I had cultivated over the past few days, and for a very simple reason. They were pant-wettingly terrifying. Let me be more specific. Auditions themselves were easy. Callbacks scared the shit of me. Watching my peers, I was amazed at their sheer weight of talent, their self-confident display of skill, their comfort with fantastic executions of musicality. They were supermen, each a vocal Hercules. What was I doing here?

The question haunted me as I dropped into bed that night, heavy with dissatisfaction. What could a normal person do in this place, where talent and unbelievably extensive resumes abounded? How could I even begin to get involved? I drifted off to sleep exhausted and demoralized, prepared to accept a new life of significantly less participation.

And that’s when the dream-pirates attacked. They threw the door open and surrounded me, countless vague forms shouting incoherently. I hid myself beneath the covers, praying that they would leave me alone. Suddenly I stopped; amid the coarse babble I distinguished a recognizable phrase:

“Congratulations! You got in!”

What? They weren’t pirates at all, nor did they intend to kill me. In fact, they seemed to be dancing. In my room. At what now had to be almost 2 a.m.

“Welcome to Asterik!”

And apparently I was now one of them. Half-naked in bed, it was hard to feel that I belonged. A t-shirt flew towards me from the darkness.

“Let’s go, we have to wake up the other freshmen!”

As the shirt enveloped my face, it all became clear. This was no simple call to run around campus in the wee hours. This call was metaphorical—Nicholas Castele, open up!

Open up. To new experience, to the opportunity to grow, to the certainty of small failure and the destiny of grand success. This absurd invasion in the dead of night became in that moment a paradigm for all freshmen: Leave behind all comfort and walk in the dark places you have never seen before. Join a new community. Attempt something unprecedented. Accept challenges. Risk failure. And don’t be afraid to be stupid.

“Come on, Nick, we have to get the rest of the guys.”

The call had been issued. There was no chance to back down. I answered with the best words I could muster.

“Sure I’ll come out with you. Just let me put my pants on first.”

But some non-real Northwestern accounts still exist. I don’t know how they get to exist while Stephen Colbert’s made-up page got axed, but they are still around. Here is a helpful guide to these ficticious Facebookers, just in case you ever feel the urge to beef up your friend total but don’t want to look creepy.

Joseph Medill — The original Medilldo, Joseph Medill’s Facebook page is loaded with nerdy journalism references that would make the most talkative tool blush. All his favorite movies and books relate somehow to the fourth estate, and the only groups he calls membership in relate to the kinda-top-notch journalism school his name is affixed to (though I don’t get why he’d lose his Gucci sunglasses in McTrib). Plus, only a real jerk would include something he said as a favorite quote.

Willie the Wildcat — Yeah, if you actually shell out the tuition to go here, you know who Willie the Wilcat is. But the feline’s Facebook page raises an intriguing question: is Willie a student? I’m not naive (I’m aware a student puts on a costume, as there are no records of a man-sized, upright standing cat existing), but clues abound hinting at the fact Willie is suppossed to actually exist amongst us, the poor college students he entertains. He claims he goes to class, but I’ve never seen him before (don’t like Medill, Willie?), and he’s in every group with NU slapped on it. Not to mention, his taste in music (Jack Johnson, Counting Crows), movies (Wedding Crashers for humor, Crash for idiotic social commentary) and TV shows (Family Guy, Grey’s Anatomy) imply he’s a part of NU’s Greek community. A grand mystery….

Pat Fitzgerald — Hypothetically, football coach Pat Fitzgerald could maintain a Facebook page. My mom has one, why not him? I just pray to the football gods he doesn’t, since he should be trying to turn the Wildcat football team into something not-so-mediocre. Wait….uh oh, this video says this might not be fiction….

Dear goodness, he really did go “from sideline to online!” I wouldn’t be so concerned if he didn’t commit the ultimate Facebook sin: Writing on your own wall. For shame Fitz, for shame.

NU Syllabus – Taking a page out of the NU Athletics marketing playbook (”If we go online, all those hip youngsters in Chicago will go from MySpace to our space! I win the Internet!”), Northwestern’s yearbook created a profile promoting itself. At least it isn’t an actual human being. The profile also avoids pretending it’s real in any capacity outside advertisement, filling in fields with reasons why you should buy a copy when it comes out this Monday. The groups NU Syallabus joined are also pretty ho-hum, except for “I Couldn’t Get Into Hogwarts…So I Came to Northwestern” which is just creepy and perplexing. Also: that may be the most boring profile picture a yearbook could select to represent itself.

One final question: if any of these folks appeared in your “Facebook five,” what does that say about you?