In twenty years or so, Time or Newsweek (provided they're still in existence) will coin a term for my generation--and it'll probably be something along the lines of "The Narcissists." But it's not our fault we're so vain. Blame Mark Zuckerberg for revolutionizing the way we communicate with our peers and giving us an oasis of photos, messages and events which do nothing but to remind us that we are in the forefront. And damn that Twitter--now we must be alerted every time someone completes a minuscule task which would garner no attention only a few years before. It's an eerie and amazing time we live in--a time that our own parents don't understand. When my mother was my age she was left guessing as to what her crush was up to on a Friday night. But now it only takes her daughter a few clicks to determine what her latest fling did over the past few days; she can pinpoint his every move, examine every girl who is standing next to him. More and more, we construct our own skewed timelines and biographies of the people we think we know. Do we even bother to ask what hobbies a person has, or do we just glance through their interests and favorite movies? We're supposed to be connected. We're able to keep in touch with those who live oceans away. But are we really more in tune with others, or is it all some grand pixelated illusion?

I won't lie and say I don't use Facebook. I love Facebook. Facebook tells me everything I need to know about a person without that person knowing that I know. Facebook has told me about failed relationships and wild parties without me even having to ask. It's an odd feeling to walk to class, spot someone whom Facebook informed you is no longer dating her boyfriend, and feel sorry for her loss without her having to even tell you. And the strangest part is, most of the time you don't even know her enough to care who she's dating.

Sometimes I feel as though Facebook will be the death of us all. We'll become so entangled in tagging photos of ourselves, updating our statuses and wrangling applications that one day we'll stop and realize we have no true relationships, just computer-facilitated acquaintances. We're already so consumed with iPhones and ringtones and that we can barely walk down the street without pumping music into our tired ears or punching out a few text messages about nothing in particular. Technology is a wonderful thing, but how much digitization can human interaction sustain? We've got to remember that we're living creatures who need comfort, love and support: not from a keyboard, but from real people. Even with the possibility of storing my entire life on a hand held device I still opt for a real calendar. God forbid you ever drop your phone and break it, your life will go with it. We put so much trust into these beeping, flashing devices, into all of these things that can and will fail. It's a bit dangerous, I'd say.