It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve had Facebook for the last ten years, close to a third of my entire lifetime.  I first signed up when Facebook was exclusive to college students, verified through the .edu email address we were provided by our own campus of higher learning.  It was an exciting time then, especially for the early 20s crowd.  Writing on walls was the thing to do, poking wasn’t creepy, and individual status updates were forced in the format of completing the statement “First Name Last Name is ______,” many of mine being reminders that I was the king of grilled cheesing sandwiching (“Michael Arce is the Champion, the MVP, the King of grilled cheeses and you [expletive] know it!” was an actual post).

It was undeniable.

And at the time, Facebook was not mobile.  It had to be experienced through a computer since the iPhone/mobile devices and the app revolution did not come into play until the latter half of 2007.  The FB Feed or Timeline did not exist then, nor did the like button or comment box.  Ads were nowhere to be found.  Selfies were here and there, but they weren’t called selfies.  Most of the time, you’d still just ask someone else to take a photo for you, and you’d probably load it into your MySpace page first.

Time never stops flying, does it?

What was once a refreshing platform that supplemented the primary act of actually talking to real people has become an all-out undefended assault into the details everyone’s world.  The level of social media engagement has become THE primary measuring stick when seeking validation, and all of a sudden, popularity can actually be quantified.

And I hate it.

I’m not going to lie, I had that mindset for a while.  If I didn’t get the amount of likes I thought I should have gotten, it was a failed post.  I felt no one cared for my opinion or photo, or where I was or what I was doing or what I just accomplished.  So maybe I would delete it, and maybe post it again later, or just not bother with it ever again.  Eventually I began to study the science of social media – maximizing exposure, timing a post, amplifying content, what to target (region, age group?), and how to effectively hit that target.

I don’t know what’s more sad – knowing that this social media science actually exists, or that I actually became decent at it.  In fact, it’s my highest rated skill on my LinkedIn profile (how the expletive did that happen?).

There’s an idea that everyone is, or should be a salesman, and that you should be selling yourself all the time.  Facebook was a prominent way of doing this.  You can sell yourself as anything you want, even if it stretched the truth.  Suddenly, people became interesting than most, changed for the better, perfect in relationships, compatible in spirit, extraordinary in conversation, watchers of Game of Thrones, hardworking employees, masters of the “rise and grind,” and probably my favorite – long time sports fans.

And people will buy it.

That’s probably the problem, isn’t it?  That everyone wants to sell themselves rather than just be themselves on these platforms.  We’ve become so reluctant to hold up our mirrors and see what’s really there, and instead choose to believe in and evoke an image of ourselves that will validate us the most, even if that image is flawed with lies (granted, however, not all are).  Back in 1999 in the film Fight Club, Tyler Durden gave us an unforgettable list of what we are not, and I want to add to that list today to keep current:

“You are not your job.”
“You are not how much money you have in the bank.”
“You’re not the car you drive.”
“You’re not the contents of your wallet.”
“You’re not your (expletive) khakis.”
– Tyler Durden, 1999

“You’re not the number of likes you get.”
– Michael Arce, 2016

So, to turn the tables – who am I, then?  Well, as told via my social media –

San Francisco is my home, Ingleside is my hood and I love the Inner Sunset.  I am a lover of the creative process, especially in writing, design and film.  On average, I work over seventy hours a week with no weekends off.  My only source of validation has been from the dope ass emails I get from my boss, who is easily the smartest man I ever met.  I can compose a decent photograph.  President Obama and I were born in the same hospital in Honolulu, which to me makes us brothers from other mothers.  I call myself Batman and pretend I’m Thor, but never both at the same time.  I’m a huge fan of sports and the Bay Area pro teams, a coffee aficionado/addict, and a true believer in simplicity.  I’m a half marathoner, but will never consider myself a runner.  I’m a gym rat, and I love a good chocolate chip cookie.  I’m left-handed, and have natural movement on my 68 MPH fastball.  I should be an owner of a kayak now, but procrastination continues to defeat me.  I talk to the universe, which is another way of saying I talk to myself, and I’m the best listener I know.  I like cats, and dogs love me.  And I haven’t engaged in Facebook in over a month, nor do I ever plan to ever again.  But you can still find me on my blog and my Gram.

And who am I, really?  Just someone who’s willing to hold up the mirror.  If you want to find out the real details, come talk to me.

Face to face.

P.S., I’m still the king of grilled cheese sandwiches.