There are arguably few better ways to summarize our semester in Highlands than as a crash course in human connection. As a group of 15 strangers living, working, breathing as one cohort, it has been crucial that we find ways to connect with each other, to cross the gaps in our past experiences and find friendship out here in the mountains. One way has been our Human Impacts class, in which we’ve been reading and discussing John Green’s The Anthropocene Reviewed.
The book consists of a series of essays in which Green reviews a place, or product, or event, or some other thing present in everyday life and describes how it acts as a means for shared human experience in our dark and scary and ever-changing world. As soon as we finished the book, I knew I had to try and capture the essence in my blog post, but I spent a while contemplating what singular item could stand a chance at encompassing the relationships we’ve formed this semester. It wasn’t until recently, when our final draft of our papers were due, and it was nearly 3 in the morning, and my classmates and I were sitting around a roaring fire on our Google TV, that I realized how unironically Facebook Marketplace had changed the course of my semester.
Now, I have never had a Facebook account, and as a rule I try to stay off of social media. My close friend and classmate Hannah, however, made a skilled sport of scouring Facebook Marketplace this semester, looking for the worst that Franklin’s best had to offer, and lowballing people out of their least wanted possessions. Hannah was not always successful in her endeavors, and we were ghosted more often than not - most people won’t bother with a $75 offer on, say, a $350 backpack - but when we were successful, the spoils were more than worth the war. The like-new 50” Google TV secured for $50 brought us countless hours together, watching an assortment of 90s movies, various episodes of Supernatural, and 3 full seasons of Scandal in a little over a month. When we actually had to buckle in and do some work, like that night of the Great Draft Deadline, the TV turned into a series of Youtube ambience videos (think “Slytherin Common Room” or “Rainy Day Coffee Shop Jazz”) that brought my classmates and I through the pain in a way I’m not sure anything else could have - save for the tricycle, affectionately known as the Green Machine, that was also scored from Facebook and ridden down the hill behind Valentine during a midnight study break.
It wasn’t just that night, though, that Facebook Marketplace made a difference. Now that the semester is over and the grades are in, I can admit that I have fond memories of stifling laughs at my friends’ laptop screens while they perused the day’s newest listings in class. On tamer days, the options might include a 2010 Toyota Corolla that runs like new (just missing engine, still $5000, they know what they have). Other days, for a small portion of your hard-earned cash, you could be the proud owner of a sweet pair of banana slippers, 6 gently used kittens, a fish tank inside a TV, or even a knockoff carnival ride, likely constructed in somebody’s uncle’s backyard.
I have come to believe that there are few things more human, more representative of the Anthropocene, than this collection of garbage we call Facebook Marketplace. But this semester, it also served as a source of connection, for me and my roommates, my classmates - even the friendly guy who sold me a new reptile tank and could not hide his surprise when I told him I, a little girl of 20 years old, owned a several foot long snake.
It is a true exercise in trust, in the belief of the good in humanity, to meet a stranger in a parking lot, give them your money, and expect them to make good on their end. But as cheesy as it sounds, at the end of the day, that brief vulnerability can change your life for the better in ways you can’t even begin to anticipate.
In the spirit of John Green, and human connection, and a dark and scary world, I give Facebook Marketplace five stars.
-AB
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