I grew up in a town where everywhere you go, someone either knows your name or your parents name. Life is simple, and the public sphere includes everyone within a 50 mile radius. The local morning and evening news is the main source of information for everyone. Life in Lexington truly happens at a slower pace, and it is takes about the same amount of time to get to and from my two homes to adjust to their paces.
I began this class with an examination of life and death in the public eye in New York City, particularly focusing on the traumatic experiences in public transportation and how they are handled. I experienced an event that more or less led to my fascination of their coverage in the media but it wasn’t until last week when I was able to pinpoint why I was so alarmed at the anonymity of deaths in the Subway, and why it didn’t seem to phase others.
I found out that late last Thursday night, a classmate of mine from middle and high school lost her sister in a fatal car accident. A friend sent me a text, and another as well. I spoke about it with my mother on the phone and read about it online at the local paper’s website. Her name was there, her age, her background and details on the funeral and where to contact the family. I looked it up on twitter and sure enough there were messages from friends and reactions. I look at the Gothamist today and see a cyclist had a fatal accident last night in front of the Met. A tweet of his the scene of the accident is visible (later taken down) and I can’t help but wonder who is this person, and do they know their life is being portrayed as an end rather than a journey?
It is as if in areas where social networks move at slower paces, technology helps connect people like myself who are physically distant. But in areas where populations are abundant and social networking is more often than not the main means of fast, instant communication, we use technology as means to disassociate ourselves from emotion, and connect to fact.
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