100DaysToOffload
day twenty
Thoughts about my age
#AMonthToOffload Yes, a #100DaysToOffload has become #AMonthToOffload. My 10th grade exams were rescheduled to a month from now, so I'm not sure how sustainable this is going to be.
day eighteen
Why privacy doesn't seem to matter
A lot of the times I've wondered why people don't have a knee-jerk, violent response to violations of their privacy. Sitting down, patiently with someone, I've almost always been able to convince them that privacy is an important issue. Most people, in polls, seem to support privacy. Why is it then, that doing something like conferencing over Zoom, or buying into the network of advertising companies that track customers doesn't seem inherently repulsive? I think there are a few reasons for this:
- No immediate impact: the same reason the climate change and the impact of automation seems so confusing and hard to deal with – there is no immediate impact. Nothing really happens in the moment to you if one more search query is recording in a faraway server. The problem, instead is more abstract- the balance of rights in your society, the potential for abuse of this data, etc. Unlike something like world hunger or wars, there is no heart-wrenching photograph to show or death toll to talk about – there’s just the endless flow of bits.
- Feels hopeless: a lot of people say that “privacy is dead”. And that’s it. Good luck trying to fight all the governments and tech giants of the world preying on your data. The truth is that they are so ingrained in our daily workflow and though processes and vocabularies, that the fight often seems beyond lost. This is something that often afflicts even those within the privacy community. Even if they were to change their settings and try very hard, the data of billions of people would still be exposed.
- Feels very technical: this is the one I hear the most, and it’s true. Unfortunately, there is no single opt-out or opt-in button for the Internet. Instead, it is a complicated replacement process of every single application that a person uses int their daily life. Even if you start, you are bombarded with terms like self-hosting and DNS resolvers and perfect forward secrecy. It’s not easy for a person to slip in and try to understand the whole system of a privacy upheaval.
day seventeen
Why this is happening on paper and some other things
Note: posts will not be shared on Fosstodon to avoid the subconscious clutch of the almighty “notifications” counter. Most people can avoid it, but I fell into a refreshing frenzy. Not good.
day sixteen
day fifteen
day fourteen
A Museum Artifact Kind Of Love
A small joy A momentary pleasure Just a thing to gaze upon Convince yourself And make believe It means something real Something of historical significance Once important.
Long forgotten Viewed on occassion Viewed on a long walk A walk in a circle that never ends A train that got off nowhere A new ticket to the past In the warm messy circle of my life.
I'll pick up the dewy gossamer snow globe then Place it my jacket Hope time doesn't play pick pocket So you won't slip away again.
But no, oh no No you can't take it home with you Nestle it in your pocket Or place it in your heart Let it slip Let it stay In the historical museum Of your glassy memory.
Just enjoy the The lingering niggling surviving dewdrops Before they too vaporize, Just like my memories of you.
day thirteen
Idle Curiosities
Perched on her windowsill, Fourteen stories above the ground Through the glass and hazy mist She felt a vague radiating warmth She saw a chrome glimmer flicker And wondered what it was all about.
Huched over a little fire As the lines of fighting and surviving blurred Like today and yesterday and everyday He glanced up 14 stories high Saw the laser strobes of light And felt so acutely the coldness of her warmth.
Her self-serving self-satisfied Analog states of mind The true highs and fake lows Of a girl on the 14th story His heart beat in binary Or to put it more accurately- Whatever he had left of his heart beat in binary A rusted piston engine grimly at work.
day twelve
Train of Thought
“H-h-hey it's me I, uh, just got off the train Buy another ticket?” The panic is coming on strong, “How a-a-are you?” So strong only in my head. “Can-n we talk? ,” Wasn't that hard.
“Didn-nt want to bother you But some-something's been b-b-bothering me.” Performed as rehearsed.
Your eyes crinkle in the dusk, Your forehead wrinkles, Head droops in sorrow, As you rub your temples, And your eyes water in love. Expressed as experienced.
“No, it-it's no big deal” It is a big deal. To me. “L-let's just hit the bar, yes.” Nobody really cares. “Yup, I'll be-I'll be fine.” I won't.
My eyes crinkle in the soft night, My forehead wrinkles, Head droops in sorrow, But my eyes water in broken love. Where are you when I need you?
“Y-you're fine, aren-n't you? How could you not be?” I don't care anymore. “You-you-you” Why is this so hard? “You never cared for me, d-did you?” I throw a poisonous dart into your heart.
I could feel your heart crack and splinter, Before I saw your face aghast, Your eyes wide and arms flailing. You who didn't care for me? Then I noticed the stars didn't seem to align, Something was amiss- You had a hole in your heart too.
“Is-is it about your m-m-mother?” Don't nod. Please don't.
You nod slowly. The medication didn't work. You're orphaned and left alone, And 'all I wanted' was your helping hand.
“I'm so-sorry, I di-didn't know” How could I have known? “I didn-dn't mean to” God, what have I done? “We'll g-get though this. I pr-promise.” Just don't return the venom. Don't. Please don't.
And you say, “You never cared for me, d-did you? Never even bothered to ask”, Returning the venom.
And our hearts crack and splinter, As we silently scream, Our eyes wide and arms flailing, Who will pull out these arrows in our hearts? Where were we when we needed us?
day eleven
The Fortress
I could live inside my head Barricade that fortress Then deep underground Drill holes into my heart Watch it crumble to dust And softly fade into the evening.
Sorrow is my soldier Tears are his weapon To serve and to protect The mind's darkest basement.
The more the barbed wires that fence and entangle The more the cuts and pricks, The more the holes my heart has.
To disclose or to close off, This close to breaking down? To tell or to pretend? Or to foretell what I portend? To wear a mask and dissolve my face- Or embrace the underground weeds?
Out of time yet twirling and twisting Is this a downward descent or- Am I climbing the turret?