It's not just strangers you need to beware on Facebook....

The founder of Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg, commented at the weekend that social media has ensured that privacy is no longer the expectation of his service users. I wonder, though, just how much users really think about the content they fill their profile pages with, and what effect this availability of personal information has, not on identity thieves, but on their friends and acquaintances.

The wonderfully entertaining website, Lamebook, which promises the very best and very worst of Facebook content reveals a large number of oversharers, from the couples who argue within their status updates to the hysterical few who update on every torn emotion and unrequited advance.

I have my own oversharer on Facebook: a girl I was at school with fifteen years ago has been going through a traumatic separation from her husband. I have had no personal contact with her and yet I know every detail of the break up, have read intimate details of his cheating and departure and have shared in every expletive-littered diatribe. On bad days, I could expect to see seven or eight increasingly enraged status updates and eventually hid her from my news feed. When the privacy options changed, she appeared once again in my news feed with her status now changed back to married and all of her updates now jubilant tributes to how incredibly happy she is now her husband has returned.

But what of the husband? Clearly he wasn't complicit in the sharing of every minute detail of the pain he had inflicted on his estranged wife and children, which were each commented on with vicious aplomb by members of her friend list. What of the mutual friends who were caught in the crossfire? A brief browse revealed the previous updates had been removed shortly after the reconciliation but he is sure to be treated differently by their circle in the future. We've all had that friend who breaks up with a partner and spends weeks ranting about how awful they were only to get back together with them and leave those who shared in the ex-bashing feeling exposed and awkward. This is the same thing, but instead of a handful of friends, the exercise is expanded to a group of potentially hundreds of casual friends, co-workers and old schoolmates and amounts to social homicide.

On the other hand, Facebook is making us increasingly obsessive about the actions of those around us. I have friends who pore over the profiles of the objects of their affection, whether in a relationship with them or not, on a daily basis and debate endlessly on what it all means. One friend, who was at the time posted in Afghanistan, sent me regular messages from the base computer asking who her ex boyfriend's recently acquired female Facebook friends were and analysing any pictures he put up with an obsessive eye – in one case demanding to know the identity of the owner of a lock of blonde hair just visible beside him at a business dinner. She became convinced he was sleeping with every female who left him wall messages and would go into meltdown if any of them signed off with a kiss.

There also seems to be a tendency for some to use the amount of information on some people available on Facebook to their advantage in attracting a partner. One female friend who took this to extremes was introduced to another friend on Facebook and the pair really hit it off. They messaged back and forth with the increasingly exciting feeling that they shared the same interests and mindsets. What the guy didn't know, however, was that my friend had been perusing his interests and studied his activities on Facebook at length to become his perfect woman. Her status updates changed from minor pedestrian irritations about her commute to completely out of character activities such as headbanging to heavy metal music and watching Star Trek marathons, all delivered in the same net-geek-speak he favoured for his updates. The fling eventually ended when her day became occupied almost entirely by what he was up to, hitting F5 to refresh every few minutes. If he was updating on Facebook and not responding to her messages, all hell broke loose and he was eventually on the receiving end of friend-removal and multiple text messages declaring him dumped. He eventually found a girl in the real world who doesn't have a Facebook account and is engaged to her. He admits to me that the whole experience was a confusing and dispiriting one: he is far more careful what he shares now.

Pre-Social Media, finding out information about someone required going through mutual friends or having to ask the subject directly. The very act of this ensured detachment and a curb on any tendency to overstep the mark. However, the internet has opened the door to anonymous scouring for information meaning everything you post has the potential to be chewed over by countless unknown eyes.

The amount of 'Who is viewing your profile' group invitations I receive, and reject (it is not technically possible to do this unless foolishly giving access to your movements to a third party developer anyway), seems to suggest that there will always be a paranoia (or vanity?) about how much somebody accesses your personal information through this medium.

Personally, I find Facebook a wonderful tool if you are comfortable with its potential for misuse by some people. I have moved around a lot and have friends spread widely who I am now far better connected to. My privacy settings are on the highest level on the basis that I only share information with those I am comfortable with and I censor myself with the benchmark that if I wouldn't shout it out in a crowded room, I don't want it on the internet.

And if a love interest happens to be on Facebook, he can look at my profile as much as he likes, as can any friend I have given permission to. But I won't be looking at his – the internet skews perception and I have enough trouble understanding men in the real world without trying to apply a sanity filter to every single thing he does online. It's better this way.

I Fought the Law and...erm well nothing really happened

I drive up my favourite road in Co.Kildare every day - the one that is so small it doesn't have a name (like most of them in rural Ireland). I call it the Grand National road because of its many and varied humpback bridges and hairpin bends and other exciting Irish obstacles. Like the man who forgot his horse, pulling a cart himself. And the lost golfer. Wolfe Tone, father of Irish republicanism, is buried along the early part of this road too. If you ever find yourself in St Stephen's Green in Dublin ever, look out for the beautiful Edward Delaney sculpture on the Merrion Row corner.



It's a great fun road to drive for a former rally driver's daughter and I enjoy the challenges it presents me.

A new challenge presented itself today. A shiny red car started flying up behind me on a straight stretch of the road. This often happens I find. Usually salesmen in their cars getting a bit of an ego boost by intimidating the girl in the little 13 year old rally car. Anyway, I sighed and waited for the inevitable close overtake (this road barely accomodates two average car widths) that I encounter almost every day.

Instead, its radiator started flashing red and blue. Ooops. But I looked at my speedo and was doing 55/mph which isn't too bad on an 80/kmph road.

This was the exchange:

Garda: You're going too hard!

Me: Err, sorry.

Garda: Good.

Me: OK, bye then.

And that was it. All of which called to mind the comedian Dara O'Briain's incredibly accurate description of the levels of Irish justice.

This goes (with thanks to Mr O'Briain): "There are three states of legality in Irish law. There is all this stuff which comes under 'that's grand', then it moves into 'ah now dont push it', and finally it comes under 'right now you're takin the piss', and that's when the police come in."

And thank god for Ireland that the Garda didn't feel the need to get out of his car for this. He might have noticed I haven't renewed my car tax yet. Which probably pushes my motor crimes into the piss-taking category.

The City, The Last Meal & Many Millions

So, The Hills' Whitney Port spinoff The City shuddered to an appropriately mediocre conclusion on Sunday although you'd be forgiven for not really noticing. In fact, I missed a couple of episodes but it didn't really matter as every week the only thing that changed was the outfits.

Ep.#?? breakdown as follows:

Whitney doubts Jay, Jay does something suspicious, Whitney debates at length what to do with weird interchangeable body/same personality friend, Jay does something insensitive, Jay proudly polishes chip on his shoulder, Jay talks to Adam in bar about women in vaguely misogynistic manner [implied undertone 'let's lose these bitches and just be happy together bro'], Adam does something caddish, Allie finds out through meddling of forcibly implemented girl gang, Adam uses supernaturally good looks and weasly charm to win her back, MEANWHILE ELSEWHERE Whitney tries to talk to "New York Socialite" work colleague Olivia who says something condescending, glares and wobbles off fawn-like to bite the heads off babies (or something), at which point Whitney rolls her eyes, sighs and waits for our heroine Kelly Cutrone to come and rescue her with a molotov spike-heeled stiletto assault. Roll credits.

Which is the ending we deserved. Kelly Cutrone may have been clumsily written/edited but she was the saviour of a show which struggled to find any points of interest in any of the main characters (as Olivia would have said 'mmmhhyaaaaah jahst too mahtchy mahtchy'). If reports from NY are to be believed, Whit has quit (DVF anyway) and has returned to People's Revolution Hurrah Hurrah.

***

Tonight I had my Death Row style Last Meal in anticipation of the hardcore body punishment that is coming my way as I prepare myself to run more than 26 miles in the NY marathon. I gave up smoking and drinking earlier in the year and was looking for an activity that involved neither and would also lead to achieving something. For my sins this is it. Am sure there'll be plenty of updates over the months and photographs of my sweaty pain for you to laugh at so check back regularly and follow me on Twitter (use link on the right to do this).

For the record, the Last Meal was a Cashel Blue Cheeseburger, Fries and a nice chunk of Banoffee Pie. Farewell my friends - enjoy that big ole party you're having with my alcohol and cigarettes.

***

Lotto fever is taking me over. Tomorrow I have a one in a really vast lot chance of becoming richer than Enya or Sharon Osborne (randoms plucked from the UK/Ireland wealth index) in an instant. The jackpot is 89mGBP, 100mEUR and 132mUSD - more than even I could spend on weird artwork, AC/DC picture discs and quirky stationery items.

But still - if that money were to come my way I have a list of projects in my head to donate to. In addition to the worthy friends and family windfalls, I have a mental note too of individuals I've encountered in my life who are sensationally talented who I'd love to work with in some way. Who knows what format that would take but it's sure to be a blast along the way.

If you don't hear from me on Saturday, I'll be on a plane somewhere...

California Dreaming

For the past week or so I seem to have managed to completely invert my bodyclock - I am currently on US pacific time.

I'm working on a book at the moment and also working on a slightly surreal project involving music on TV which is so weird and newfangled that the hours are strangely irregular. Sometimes I'll go to work at 7pm, sometimes I'll be paid to not go to 'work' at all and instead go off and experience stuff which will come in useful in building the format of the show.

Still, the weird TV hours aside, I work better in the quiet of the night. There are less distractions in the wee small hours and I find the solitude focuses me in a way my lousy self-discipline cortices never have been able to.

The curious side effect of this has been that I rarely now go to bed before 7am, at which point it is already light outside. And as I'm already a light sleeper, I now persistently wake up at intervals. It seems to mean that I am almost constantly in a dreamstate and have been having this amazing episodic dream for the past few days.

When I return to sleep I seem to pick up the action from where I leave off, my waking moments becoming the ad breaks to the main feature. Except nobody really wants to buy me visiting the bathroom or getting a glass of water or (shamefully admits) checking my twitter account and emails.

It's an excellent yarn though - a murder mystery thriller that should be terrifying but isn't. I am in control in the dreams as well as being a detached observer. The colours are vivid, the action well paced and the dialogue sharp. Just wish I could remember most of it when I wake up so I can write the hit series! Bringing a notepad to bed tonight, which I am forcing myself to do early as I have too much practical stuff requiring opening hours to do tomorrow to sleep till three pm again.

But then I said that yesterday.......

Wednesday April 29

Welcome friends. I am a fairly simple creature:

I like...

very strong coffee, cinnamon bagels, driving, rockaway beach, dawn, jean pierre chardat, singing along to loud music in my car (skid row and tiffany big faves for this although not at the same time), opinionated people, the goonies, curious people, grotesque drawings of things, playing dress up, rollercoasters, dada, writing about stuff, the seaside, reading about stuff, farm animals, halloween, watching stuff, looking at fish, weird buildings, craft projects, manners, skyscrapers, twitter, coney island, music music music, hector babenco, lazy days in bed, seth morgan, running fast, sleeping, blackpool.

I don't really like...

olives, closed minds, emotional manipulation, not seeing the wood for the trees, poverty, sharp things, red tape, insomnia, eating fish, chips on shoulders, back problems, text language, messy drunks, violence, people who do not listen, ignorance, drizzle, speidi.

It's nice that I like more than I don't like! Am clearly not as much of a grump as I think I am. I do enjoy the odd rant though which I'm sure I'll be sharing at some stage.