That person walking by on Rabb steps looks strangely familiar, but you can't exactly remember why, so you give a little smile or a wave. Then, all of a sudden, you remember... that was your "friend" who just walked by. Now, "friend," used in this context, does not refer to the conventional definition of the word (i.e. someone with whom you have laughed, cried, shared experiences), but rather someone with whom you have created some direct or indirect online relationship. Yes, I am speaking of the newly-minted Brandeis version of "Facebook.com," the new obsession for Brandeis students.

It seems appropriate that in this new age of cyberspace, in which our conceptualizations of virtually everything have changed, that we now conceptualize something so fundamental, like friendship, differently as well. This provides us with a new paradigm of friendship, the quicker, easier, cyber-friendship.

I am alternately disgusted and fascinated by the concept. I am probably one of the few students left at Brandeis who has not registered, yet I can't help but reluctantly look over my roommate's shoulder when she is perusing the Facebook list. What is it about this simple concept which is so alluring, yet also confusingly annoying?

What I find to be repellent about the Facebook phenomenon is that it seems to have quickly turned into a large popularity contest. Nowadays, it is not uncommon to hear Brandeis students say, "I have 268 friends now. How many do you have?" (Although this is usually said, at least partially, in jest, there is a glimmer or genuineness behind it). But, how can this possibly be true? How can one have so many friends?

The answer is that this new type of "friend" can merely be someone who you have once passed by, taken a class with, think looks nice, etc. You can invite any of these people to be your "friend." It's as simple as that. And, in turn, he can either accept or reject you.

This, of course, happens in "real life" as well, yet in a much more subtle fashion. In the "real world" (as opposed to cyber-world), you do, in essence "invite" people to be your friend, and they do either accept or reject this "invitation." However, we do not use this terminology, and it tends to happen over a longer period of time. Just like everything else in our world, the pace has quickened. Perhaps, this is a provision for establishing friendships at a quicker pace, in an attempt to keep up with the times.

But this is not entirely negative. This could very well be a positive addition to the Brandeis community. It certainly assures that people will recognize each other at Brandeis and opens up the lines of communication. Face recognition adds to the communal and friendly feel of a campus. Brandeis is small enough that in a matter of weeks, we could all be "friends" on the Facebook.

Perhaps people find the Facebook so alluring because it gives them a chance to create a new image, to reinvent themselves. Everyone makes sure that they post their best, funniest or most sophisticated picture, depending on how they want to be viewed. It gives people a chance to describe themselves on their own terms. You usually do not have that much control over how you are perceived by your peers. However, the Facebook format allows you to wield some control over your projected image by explicitly describing how you see yourself. You can try on different personas, perhaps you are the introspective thinker one day, and a sex-kitten the next. It's like Mr. Potato Head for college students.

It also allows us to discover more information about that person we saw in class today without actually talking to him or her. The Facebook has a certain eavesdropping quality to it. It is ironic that in American society-- a very private and independence-oriented culture in which we decry the government's attempts to pry into our personal lives and create personal information databases-- we have now chosen to go ahead and essentially create such a database ourselves.

So will I join in on the fun, now that I have psycho-analyzed Facebook to death, making it seem utterly unenjoyable? We'll see. Everyone likes to play Mr. Potato Head, I guess.