#“Well I'M the boss now and I say it IS within policy. Now go get me more livers”

[roseofhybrids]

Drone Tessa, despite her messed up memories, still cares about N V and J, but they’re weirded out by her behavior, obsession with Cyn and her tendency to use dead and living drones parts to make new disassembly drones (which pisses off J a lot since this is against the company’s rules)

So, in the mineshaft when N's sawing his arm off, trauma ghost V says this:

which is very interesting wording, as it implies that N, V, and J maybe the only disassembly drones to still retain them

in the case of this AU, the solver has elected to keep Tessa alive, just in a form it can more easily manipulate her in. Similar to how the canon solver may have done with the murder drone trio. Letting them remain themselves, but still altering them enough to be useful to it as exterminators.

Since the AU solver wants to keep Tessa complacent and helping assemble disassembly drones. One of the ways it could have done that was by leaving N, V, and J as worker drones. Leaving a familiar aspect of her life before the gala incident. This however leaves a weak spot of sorts. With them still being normal worker drones, they'd be able to notice the fucked up shit™️and they just might have some questions about that. Which, if they try to talk to Tessa about, could lead to her realizing what's actually going on.

Which could lead to the AU reason that they get turned into disassembly drones but were left with their personalities.

Don't want them messing up your 'human' pet's brainwashing, but still need/want them around? Just mutate them and seal away their memories, problem solved! And if they try to dig up those memories? Just have the one in charge deal out corporal punishment for asking questions. And keep some back-ups handy to reset them, just in case.

[cinnamonfridge]

So sorry you've been victimized by people over, what, a writing website? Do you think the whole thing's a false flag for them to find a scapegoat? Was it your bosses/the mods over there going after teenagers and saying it was you? Did they really not give you any help or support when your wife died in 2019 or 2020 or 2021 (sorry, just trying to read the different posts so might have gotten years wrong)? Did you ever give them a doctor's note for your medical problems? Cuz you can probably sue them if there's like a paper trail. Why did they target you and no one else? What do they have against you, is it just your radical honesty? Sorry so many questions.

It was other participants making the bullshit claims that I had been targeting them. Too bad 39 seconds reviewing my PMs would have proved that was a damn lie. Staff just refused to admit it.

My wife died June 2nd, 2019. The actual heart attack was actually on May 31st. And to correct something, I was given the support I asked for.

As for my health issues, most of them I didn't even mention for a very long time. I honestly can't remember if I shared the note from my PCP with them when I found out I was stage 5. I did PM Sarah, Heather, Letitia, and Samma_Jaye though. Sarah, because it was going to affect my ability to manage the ML group that year. Heather because I knew she knew me well enough she would understand why I was begging to be allowed to remain a moderator as long as possible. Samma_Jaye was the moderator I was most certain would be able to spot the warning signs as my behavior changed as a side-effect of the toxins building up because of the kidney failure and the fact it was only a matter of time before I would have to stop my dialysis (and I'll get into that weirdness in moment). Letitia, of course, as the lead forum mod has final say on whether or not I would be allowed to continue as a moderator.

As for targeting me? There's two sides to this that people need to understand. At the start of June I knew I was going to have to end my mod duties, but I was also sick and tired of seeing the toxicity that had been building up and was continuing to build up. I'd seen that shit before and I wanted staff to address it once and for all in a way that didn't involve a bunch of other bullshit getting in the way.

So when I saw some well known malicious flaggers that I also knew had made a habit of stalking my posts, I took advantage of it. I deliberately posted I would override the lock on the CTT thread if it happened because of the flags. And sure enough, within minutes they'd gone running to the Moderation Feedback thread about it. And that's when the fun started.

All those violations of the moderation policy I did? Staff and the other mods knew from the start it was intentional to force fhem to see just how toxic the forums had truly become so they could try and fix it. And well, as recent days have proven, they ignored my warnings and the shot I gave them at fixing things.

Now, here's the other half: if you find the What's Happening Here thread from December of '22 you'll see in the public posts I'm not exactly friends to Marya. A lot of that was because initially we were ordered to not moderate that thread at all. And I chose to go malicous compliance on her. I lowered my trust level to level 2 and then flagged every violation, no matter how minor it was.

See, we were told we couldn't moderate, but we were also told we could participate so that is exactly what I did. It wasn't long after word came down that with some exceptions we were permitted to moderate it.

But the true story is that there are a lot of whispers (mod/admin only posts) in that thread and I was far more blunt and honest in those comments than Marya liked.

And every interaction Marya and I had after that there was a very noticeable animosity in it, especially after she decided kissing donors' asses was more important than making sure she had all the facts before commenting on a situation.

So yeah, I guarantee a lot of the reason staff never addressed the shit they knew was false because Marya told them not to as revenge for me not bowing down and kissing her ass.

That's also why I'm now 100% certain she lied to the board by leaving out key details to try and save her job at the expense of Letitia's.

[ptseti]

DEAR UNCLE KWASI

From: Ahmed Olayinka Sule, CFA

To: Uncle Kwasi

Dear Uncle Kwasi,

Trust all is well with you. What an incredible month and a week it has been for you — appointed Chancellor on 7 September 2022, unveiling your mini budget on 23 September 2022, seeing the financial markets crash immediately and then getting your P45 on 14 October 2022. You must feel humiliated in getting the sack less than 24 hours after going on air to say, I'm not going anywhere.

When you were appointed Britain's first black Chancellor of the Exchequer, very few black people rejoiced at your milestone. Likewise, when you were sacked from your post 38 days later, very few black people wept at your misery. Undoubtedly, you were the smartest guy in the room; your razor-sharp intellect honed at Eton, Harvard and Cambridge contributed to your meteoric rise within the Conservative party. So why were many black people apathetic to your rise and fall?

Uncle Kwasi, it is because you spent most of your political career denying your blackness. When the Windrush scandal exposed your government's hostile policy of wrongly detaining and deporting blacks who arrived in the UK from the Caribbean, you were dispatched to defend the government's position by denying the claim of institutional racism. You once argued that there is a consistent expectation in the media that MPs from ethnic minorities should engage with 'black' issues. You said, The heart of identity politics, …. has dominated the left for a couple of decades. When you said, To expect all Chinese people to have the same views on political economy, ethics, religion would rightly be thought of as racist, you flung your race under the bus. To argue that you Would only be able to represent privately educated, single, 40-something black men is not only ridiculous but also ignorant.

It is undoubtedly a case of the chickens coming home to roost. In your dual role as the black face of the Conservative party and the Head Negro of the Liz Truss Plantation, you threw your people under the bus to gain political capital. Now your good friend, Prime Minister Liz Truss, has thrown you under the bus to save her political career. You will go on in history as the worst and the second shortest-lived Chancellor. Instead of being a modern Moses who could have helped deliver his people from the racial bondage of UKkk, you chose to be an Honorary White who used his privilege to deny his blackness. I have always said and will continue to say:

It does not matter whether you went to Eton or No Eton It does not matter whether you went to Oxbridge or No Bridge It does not matter whether you speak the King's English or No English It does not matter whether you work in Goldman Sachs or No Sachs

As long as you are black in the UKkk, you are nothing but a Ni&$$er once you turn your back.

Uncle Kwasi, your political emasculation should serve as a wake-up call for blacks ready to sell their racial birthright for a mess of political, social and economic capital. I don't believe that a black person can be British. In my opinion, the term "Black British" is an oxymoron. One could be born in Britain, reside in Britain, marry a Briton or have a British passport, but as long as you are black, your nationality will always be questioned. Hence, the standard follow-up question to Where are you from? is Where are you from originally?

Despite spending your career denying your blackness, it's time to realise that you are black. Like the regular black person, you were the last to be hired and the first to be fired. Like the regular black person, you have been the fall person to clear your boss's mess. Like the regular black person, your mistakes have been projected on your race. Like the regular black person, you have been held to a different standard than your white counterparts. When your fellow Etonian Prime Minister Boris Johnson jumped from one scandal to another, he got a first, second, third and fourth chance, not so for you. No hell was let loose when George Osborne screwed the poor with his austerity cuts, but when you took money from the poor and gave it to the rich through tax cuts, all hell was let loose.

In addition to denying your blackness, you also spent a sizeable portion of your life defending the ideals of the free market. In your book Britannia Unchained which you co-wrote with Aunty Patel, Dominic Raab, Liz Truss and Chris Skidmore, you argued that the British are among the laziest people in the world. You called for less regulation, low taxes and welfare reforms. You defended an economic ideology that screwed and is still screwing the have-nots. But if you had got your economics right, you would have realised that your proposal to take the necessities of the have-nots and give luxury to the haves through tax cuts is socialism for the rich and capitalism for the poor. The so-called market that has been feeding on the poor has now eaten you up. You became a sacrificial lamb that the high priestess of finance laid on the altar to appease the bloodthirsty market god. With the high priest offering you as a burnt sacrifice to appease the fierce god of the market, the financial markets could calm down. Only time will tell if your former boss and co-author of Britannia Unchained will also have to be sacrificed to appease the gluttonous market.

Uncle Kwasi, I hope you will learn from your humiliation and advice Aunty Kemi, Aunty Patel, and Aunty Suella on the folly of throwing your people under the bus. In the meantime, I leave you with my version of Martin Niemöller's powerful quote:

First, they came for the Caribbean immigrants, and I did not speak out—because I was not an immigrant. Then they came for the welfare recipients, and I did not speak out—because I once worked in the City. Then they came for the students, and I did not speak out—because I was a privately educated, single, 40-something black man. Then they came for the protesters, and I did not speak out—because I was in the Cabinet. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

I wish you all the best in your future endeavour Uncle Kwasi.

Selah.

Ahmed Olayinka Sule, CFA suleaos@gmail.com @Alatenumo October 2022

PS: the terms “Uncle” and “Aunty” are used as a mark of respect to you and your colleague’s status

[onewomancitadel]

Was the aura-bond idea inspired by the one Reylo had? Or did you come up with it and only notice the similarities later? It's a cool way to tie into another one of your ships, especially since it's plausible in-universe.

It's reaaaaaaaaaally awkward getting an ask about Reylo when I have new followers, but let's rip off the bandaid anyway. (Don't worry Lar, you're wonderful).

If there's anybody who followed me today who doesn't like Reylo, I won't ask any questions if you decide to unfollow. There might be a post about it on here eventually anyway, I just don't really post about it anymore. I think it's only fair that you make sure to curate your fandom experience - that's also a standard policy on my blog, come and go as you please. (:

Anyway, that aside.

Well, it's not specific to Reylo and it sort of is. I love psychic bonds but generally the trope of enemies having to spend time together without hurting each other, and also ideas about transcendental contact beyond their respective stations.

Being that I'm a TFA Reylo (am I bragging? Is this bragging? Yes, I've decided it is), so before the Force bond became canon in TLJ, a lot of us were all already on board with the Force bond because of Ohtze's essay about it, and a few others - a very popular meta writer who wrote incredible stuff was harrassed until she deleted her blog so those posts are unfortunately gone. If you look at the date on Ohtze's post, you'll notice it was only a couple of weeks after TFA's release.

It was probably one of my favourite fandom experiences ever, being right about TLJ. Forget theory posts on Reddit, Reylo Tumblrinas already knew what they were doing.

Anyway, what I'm saying is, is that there was a canon precedent in SW canon for a Force bond - namely, the romantic connection of Revan and Bastila there that you can see - and we also know that probably the only concrete thing planned in the Sequel Trilogy, other than Lucas' initial concepts for it (like isolated, cynic recluse Luke), was Reylo. So, they had some idea where they were going with that, and also it's known that Rian Johnson is a fan of KOTOR, lol.

But there are also other ships I've shipped that have this sort of stuff, and I'm not trying to say I'm copying Reylo, but sort of that this is a general idea that interests me and it's why Reylo was so precious to me (one of many). With another ship I was into, there was the sense that they could see/interact with one another in their dreams - and even separated, caught glimpses of each other. Unfortunately, it's relatively rare... that is, enemies-to-lovers, or lovers-to-enemies, etc., which also happens to involve mystical, magical, transcendental forces...

which are also kind of slightly, not really slightly, but overtly, metaphorical for compassion. It's a very Campbellian idea (which is why it's appropriate to SW), because I think he was interested in the metaphysics of compassion and empathy - and in fiction you can literally realise that, in a way. But embedded within that are all of my favourite tropes about enemies-to-lovers.

Pic to break up the text, now I kind of want Boss Undercover Cinder Fall.

Because what interests me in particular isn't really hatred - though that is one of them - but moreso the idea that this is a type of contact/compassion that is BEYOND ANYTHING. Beyond who they are, who they're supposed to be, what they're supposed to do, whom they're supposed to love, where they think they should be going... this compassion and love defies all things, it carries all things, and it's the scariest/hardest thing and it's also the most immediately correct thing, it's the most powerful

These are really compelling themes, particularly once read in the context of a villainess who wants power to never be hurt again and a hero who thought he had it all figured out.

So all of the aforementioned can be represented by a psychic bond. How and where and why you do it will always look different. If you look at Alina and the Darkling's bond, it's not a good thing - because The Gris/ha Trilogy is textually confused, it is metaphorically messed up, but he comes to represent her lust for power. His bed is a cold comfort, their metaphysical contact is actually a bad thing. More reasons I don't like those books and I don't like that ship at all. (I can elaborate more, but basically the books are so textually confused and misuse a lot of their source materials, and I also find the books honestly sexist).

I hate Alina and the Darkling's example, but I just used that for the purposes of demonstrating it will always seem a bit different. Rey and Ben's, of course, is cinematic, and the kinds of ideas you can convey with that is different to text - for instance, when they're finally onscreen together, it's also when they finally physically touch and he's witnessed her deepest, darkest fears. That carries a different sense of poignancy.

Wait... this isn't Reylo.

Anyway, I loved Reylo in particular because of the bond and what it represented, and it's a real shame the third film never really capitalised on its potential beyond its use for... fighting?

But circling around to R/WBY: an Aura bond is already an idea in the show, it's the imprisonment Oscar experiences with Oz. In their case, that is a transition into adulthood for Oscar - it's thrust on him, like the hero's journey - and Oz's is a reincarnating curse post-divorce with his ex-wife.

So now you see where the Reverse Salem/Ozma stuff comes into play, because the differences between Oz's bond and Jaune/Cinder's bond are actually pretty significant, which you can see I do... attempt at going into.

1. They both chose it

2. It's a product of Jaune's Semblance (an expression of his soul) and Cinder's Dark Curse (all of her pain means something), not anything to do with the Brother gods. It's a moment of intense beauty amidst intense ugliness

3. They both... continue to choose it

4. Cinder (Salem analogue structurally) is the one bonded to Jaune (Oz analogue structurally), so it's not Ozma reincarnating forever with other, random people (who are 'like him'). It's a symbolic healing of their split and what they wrought on the world together

And I'm actually sort of stoked with how well it lined up. Reverse Salem/Ozma was part of the reason I first started shipping it, because I love poetic storytelling, I love stuff being healed, and it is FRANKLY INCREDIBLE to me I'd ever get anything remotely as good as Reylo ever again. Reylo ticks all of the boxes I'm completely and totally obsessed with, and then somehow Knightfall goes beyond that!?!?!!?!?!!??!!?!!? I mean, the distinction with Knightfall is that its canonicity is still arguably in the air, whereas Reylo was the true canon ship of ST, but I'm speaking just in terms of fandom experience.

So, I would say overall that I've always loved psychic bonds (I can think of a very early enemies-to-lovers ship that involved tangential stuff too, it's a pattern for me), I love what they represent metaphorically, I love all of the stuff you can do with it - seeing each other when they're vulnerable... funny hijinks, perhaps - and so yeah, Reylo inspired me, but it's textually grounded in R/WBY too, and even works for Reverse Salem/Ozma, not just in a metaphorical way. It's actually a 'thing' that where if Salem experiences Ozma's grief, and vice versa, they can come to know each other better and heal and confront the real conflict.

Also like, I think I've said it before, but I also wanted The Distance Which Fools the Skimming Eye to explore all the stuff I haven't seen necessarily explored in other psychically bonded enemies-to-lovers. The context of Knightfall really changes things too, compared to Reylo and my other ships, so that's a lot of fun. I also really just like that because R/WBY is so fairytale-grounded and emotionally earnest, it feels textually/canonically appropriate to really lean into the mystical elements, whereas I feel like with SW canon certain audiences are resolutely distinterested in Campbell (or Jung, as he's used in TLJ).

That's one of the many reasons I love writing it. I hope my answer isn't too long, but I did actually experience grief early on being like, 'Am I making Knightfall something it isn't?' or 'Am I just copying Reylo?' when I realised that no, it's actually very canonically appropriate, and it's something I was always interested in - pre-canon Reylo Force bond.

And idk, I make jokes to myself about Cinder and Jaune accidentally getting married in Vegas.

[connorandersons-blog]

The Perfect Interview

Connor is offered an interview with an elusive CEO of an upcoming company. He expected many things but not for the man to be absolutely gorgeous and the company to be perfect for him. Hopefully he can keep himself in check for the interview.

Or: You’re interviewing me for a job at your company, but you’re distractingly attractive and all I can picture is us making out on your desk.

(A RK1K fic!)

--------------------------

Connor straightens his tie for the fifth time since he had gotten dressed. Which was an hour and a half ago but he still felt his outfit was a bad decision. It wasn't like he even had that much to pick from, but still. A white button-down, nice slacks, and a tie seemed a bit too plain now.

But he couldn't go back now or he'd be late for his interview. His interview with a very prestigious CEO of a major upcoming company. Connor had heard so many things about the man but never had actually seen him. No one had, it was actually a pretty big mystery.

Connor assumed he'd be an old white man like every other CEO, but he wasn't going to judge. Hell, he was being offered the job interview, no way he was turning this opportunity down. To be head of security and even a possible bodyguard for said CEO was a massive opportunity. He knew he wasn't the only one to have gotten the offer but he had to make a good first impression.

Yet his hands shook as he stared up at the tall building he had arrived at. Connor actually adored the city, he loved having so many places he could go and most within walking distance. He had passed this very building plenty of times but never thought he'd work there.

The skyscraper towered above him as great monoliths of concrete and glass. But there was something rather unique about this one. It has balconies with plants and solar panels, but on the ground held even more green. It had an abundance of flowers meant to attract bees and Connor smiled.

The CEO may be allusive but he certainly cared about the planet, his customers, and his workers. That's what made this so incredible, it was a perfect company to work for. It has gotten threats because of its strong views, hence the need for more (new and improved) security for the company as a whole but also for the CEO.

He took in a slow deep breath before walking into the building. His breath was caught at the enormous tree growing in the middle of the large room. He hasn't expected that, but the tree was definitely real and looked rather healthy too. Comfortable benches with cushions let those sit and relax around the tree. Connor noted a coffee and tea stand that many stopped by. Most also handed over an identical card, while others used cash or something else

Many people roamed around and he was pleasantly shocked at the diversity. He even saw several people with mobility aids moving around as well. He felt his heart stutter at the very visible rainbow flag that said 'Love is Love'. Damn, he really wanted to work here.

Now to meet the CEO, well the receptionist who would send him up to the CEO's secretary who would then let him see the CEO. So, two people, he was guaranteed to meet first.

He walked up to the counter with a confident and friendly smile on his face. Though, his father had said he had a 'derpy smile and should stick with a indifferent face'. "Hello, my name is Connor Anderson and I'm here for an interview." His voice didn't even shake!

The woman looks up and smiles gently at him. That's something odd about her. No, not odd, different, and inquisitive. It's almost like she can see into his soul, it kind of makes him want to turn tail and run.

"Hello, it's wonderful to meet you. You will do well, Markus is on the top floor, you're free to go up now." She nodded towards the elevators and Connor couldn't help but give her an awkward smile.

That was a bit ominous but he shrugs it off as he makes his way to the elevators. There aren't many people in there but none seem too shocked he's going to the top, instead, they seem curious. Not in the cruel way some older adults are, but simply wondering who he was. He was a new face and it seemed plenty of people knew each other as they talked softly.

The elevator ride isn't long but it still feels like an eternity before he reaches the top. The top floor doesn't even have that much in it, not that Connor can see. There is a meeting room, which Connor assumes holds the most crucial meetings. There is the room where assumes the CEO will be behind, and three others that he can see.

There is also the secretary's area which is as large as a room but without a door. He walks up, and the woman sitting there looks up. Her face is fierce and almost stern as she looks him over. If he didn't know any better it would look like he was meat and she was deciding if he was good enough to eat or not. Not in the sexual way, though, he got massive lesbian vibes off her.

Her name tag said North, that was a unique name but oddly fitting and rather pretty too.

She is stunning, frown and all. Her strawberry blonde hair drapes over her shoulder in a loose braid, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "Anderson. Connor Anderson, right?" She asks.

"Yes, that's me. I'm supposed to have an interview at 2?" He didn't lean on the counter, simply stood with his arms by his side, trying to appear open.

She nods and types something on her computer. "Alright, you can go in." She nodded to the door and Connor beamed at her.

"Thank you." She gave a small nod, watching him attentively. Damn, she could be security with the intensity of her stare. He definitely wouldn't fuck with anyone behind that door.

He knocked before entering, closing the door behind him. Oh shit. He would gladly fuck the man sitting there, though. His skin was a beautiful color, making his two-colored eyes stand out even more. He wore a wine red, slim-fit, three-piece suit. He had a black button-down making him look even sharper. He sat there in the aristocratic cutting lines of a great tailor, showing off the best parts of him.

The man had shoulders for days and when he stood up with a smile Connor was ready to melt. Or even drop to his knees. He was most definitely not a white old man.

Hot CEO who cared about people? Yeah, Connor was swooning. He also had a small scar over one of his eyes that had Connor transfixed. "H-hi, my name is Connor. I'm here for an interview." God, he was gay. So very, very gay. He was actually bi, but right now he only had eyes for the man in front of him.

"Markus Manfred, it's wonderful to meet you, Connor." He offered a hand that Connor readily took. It was so warm and a bit thicker than Connor's own. He didn't want to let go, but holding on too long could be a red flag. "Please sit."

Connor nodded and sat down, feeling spectacularly undressed. Though, he'd love for Markus to undress him even more. "Thank you for having me. I must say, I was a bit surprised at the offer and the fact my interview would be with you personally."

He expected a manager or someone for HR at least. Not that he wasn't absolutely thrilled at this, he'd gladly meet Markus again and again.

Markus's laugh was what he assumed angels sounded like. "It is a bit different, but I think that's how most see the whole company. Since we would be working so close, I prefer to get a feel for you myself."

'Please feel me up,' Connor thought, his face flushing at the thought. He needed a cold shower and a slap to the face. "I think what you've done is admirable, it's far more than most would do."

"Far more? You believe there is more I could do?" Markus leaned forward on his desk, a small upturn to his lips. Those lips probably would feel so good on his own, or kissing down his neck.

Right, he needed to focus. Connor wasn't one to stay too quiet about his opinions even in the face of very powerful men. "Yes, you are very secretive, which I can understand. But there aren't nearly enough men of color in power that is shown. I believe you could do a lot of good as a role model for youth of color."

He himself was white, but he tried to stay up to date on the world and attempted to use his voice to amplify those who were silenced.

Markus's eyes widen at Connor's words. "I'm… I have thought of that. Thank you for your honesty, it's definitely refreshing."

Connor smiled and gave a humble nod. "Of course. If anything, I pride myself on my integrity." So being blunt played off, thank god.

Markus gave a deep hum. What would he sound like getting sucked off? Was he the loud type or was he silent? This was so inappropriate, but Connor couldn't seem to stop. "I can see that. Now, I've read over your resume, your qualifications are… impressive. May I ask why you quit your last job?"

And there it was. Luckily he doubted this would actually be too much of a problem. "My boss was manipulative and was known for sexually harassing female workers. I confronted him about it and he denied it, of course. The women are currently in the process of filing reports with the police." He was still in contact with multiple of them. Echo and Ripple were sweet girls and didn't deserve what happened to them.

Markus frowns and leans back into his chair. "I see. I can promise that will not happen here. If it does it will be handled and sent to the police as well. We have a zero-tolerance policy." He smoothed his hands over the desk and Connor followed his hands. They'd feel so excellent holding Connor, maybe even have Connor sit on the desk.

Still, they went through the normal interview questions. Before each question Connor paused, head tilted to one side just a smidge, and then he delivered an articulate answer. He honestly thought it was one of the best interviews he's been in. Other than the whole fantasizing thing. It was almost natural, their back and forth.

Connor ended up learning a lot about Markus, including that he didn't like being called Mr. Manfred, and he really wanted to get a pet at some point. Connor talked about himself, saying how he had a dog he snagged from his father every other week. It was almost like a date, and a really good one too.

Still, the urge to lean across the desk and kiss the man senseless was powerful. So strong he couldn't stop biting and licking his lips. He knew he was being obvious, but Markus hadn't called him out on it.

There were pictures on his desk too. A few caught his eye. The first was a picture of Markus in plain clothes with North and two other people. They were all grinning widely and leaning into each other.

Another was of Markus and one of the men in the pictures, he was pale with blonde hair, he was leaning into Markus and placing a kiss on his cheek. Markus was laughing in the picture and someone with dark skin, Connor assumed the other man from the first picture, held up bunny ears behind both of their heads.

It was oddly adorable, seeing Markus so relaxed with his friends. Connor hoped to see that side of him too one day, even if he didn't get the job.

"I will say," Markus grinned, cocking his head to the side, "you are the best I've spoken to so far." Connor didn't think he was lying either. That bode well for the job, which could lead to a friendship then maybe even more. "It has been absolutely wonderful meeting you," he handed over his card, "I'll give you a call when we've made a decision."

Connor took it as he stood, looking it over. It was a simple card, it wasn't one you'd give out to everyone. If Connor's instincts were right, then the number printed on it would be Markus' personal cell. "Then why are you giving me your number?"

"In case you want to call me." Markus tipped his head, his eyes seemingly sparkling.

"Oh." Connor bit his lip, flushing a deep red. Perhaps Markus was interested too, in more than Connor getting the job. It would be far from professional, but Connor knew how to keep the two separate. Hopefully, Markus did too. "Ok, thank you."

Markus offered his hand again and this time they both lingered, staring at each other. Connor broke away first, chuckling. "I, yeah, ok. I guess I'll hear from you or you'll hear from me." Either way, they would talk again.

He couldn't help the smile that was covered his face as he left the office. He glanced at North who raised an eyebrow at him again before snorting. "Oh thank god, he needs to get laid," North muttered but Connor still heard. He hid his smile before walking back to the elevator. Best interview ever.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN STARTUPS

It's exactly the same work, except with bosses. That had already happened to Slashdot and Digg by the time it takes a conscious effort to schmooze; that doesn't work well. Several founders said what surprised them most about starting a startup was the value of the company should be? I'm amazed how much worry it caused me. But as the founders of Google knew, brand is worth next to nothing in the search business. Another thing blogging and open source have in common is that a dollar from them is worth one dollar.1 That's why fundraising and the enterprise market kill and maim so many startups.2

Paths can bend a lot more impressed if the answer is for hackers to act more like painters, and regularly start over from scratch, instead of going with the first that comes into your head. In particular, you don't have room for new ideas, you don't hit another MBA till number 22, Phil Knight, the CEO of a company, and that explains most of the people we hired. Alexander Calder Calder's on this list because he makes me happy. The most important way to not spend money is by not hiring people. For example, a language in which indentation is significant, like Python, would not work very well on printer terminals. Rich people don't want to be in the twentieth century was professional, which amateurs, by definition, are not actually doing science. We thought so when we started that our users were called direct marketers.3 I've found in my long career as a slob that cruft breeds cruft, and I've seen this happen in software as well as Micro-soft. If you're wondering what you're doing now that you'll regret most later, that's probably it. And there is another class of problems which inherently have an unlimited capacity to soak up cycles: image rendering, cryptography, simulations.

So bang, there's the structure, and you just have to do what adults tell me all day long. They want to talk about your idea is the embodiment of understanding your users. I'd grasped that in high school: what you want and publish when you want. There is nothing more valuable than an unmet need that is just what tends to happen. I can't think of any field in which determination is overrated, but the way one anticipates a delicious dinner. What about using it to write software? Nothing kills startups like distractions. Could a programming language should, like oil paint, make it easy to change your product. Unnecessary meetings, pointless disputes, bureaucracy, posturing, dealing with other people's mistakes, traffic jams, addictive but unrewarding pastimes. Backing off can likewise prevent ambition from stalling.

You can just abandon that one and skip to the next. That is, no matter what I did. The real thing is not something one could have for waiting on tables. Collecting donations for a charity is an admirable thing to do when you get fouled is not to hunt for big ideas, but empirically that doesn't seem to be deliberately trolling, we ban them ruthlessly. We'd hire 30 tomorrow morning. I think the reason most employees work fixed hours is that if you can't make people work, you can safely talk to them, because you both know the price will have to be a huge number you've never heard of called x. Most subjects are taught in such a boring way that it's only by discipline that you can return to academic life.

I'm surprised by how well you do in school under the name passion. Ultimately power rests with the founders. You're also safe that way from refutation.4 One, obviously, is the group within companies that buys other companies. Do you really need the rich people? If you're talking to someone from corp dev wants to meet, the founders should include technical people. I said, I worked on Microsoft Office instead of I work at a small startup you've never heard of. And not only will they give you this advice for free, because they don't know what the options are, or which kinds of problems are hard and which are easy. I learned, without realizing it. The danger is to companies in the middle. If determination is so important is that it's their profession to. Actually a lot of startups had the opposite policy.

Notes

There's not much to say exactly what your GPA was. Selina Tobaccowala stopped to say, good deals. Applying for a block or so and we don't want to.

A knowledge of human anatomy. Learning to hack is a bad sign if you sort investors by benevolence you've also sorted them by the surface similarities. Mayle, Peter, Why Are We Getting a Divorce?

Investors are professional negotiators and can hire unskilled people to do right. So far, I suspect the recent resurgence of evangelical Christianity in the sense of things you sell.

Patent trolls can't even trust the design world's internal standards. More generally, it could be mistaken, and that often doesn't know its own mind. Most of the 20th century executive salaries.

Thanks to Ingrid Bassett, Chip Coldwell, Paul Buchheit, Geoff Ralston, Sarah Harlin, John Bautista, and Trevor Blackwell for their feedback on these thoughts.

[mindfulwrathwrites]

Bicycle

Dystopian noir lesbians? Sure.

Words: 1,107 Warnings: None really

There's something a little squirrelly about being a P.I. when the Panopticon already knows everything. It's especially rough when you get two-thirds of the way through a case only to have a couple guys in dark glasses turn up and tell you to stop digging, by order of the State. If you want to stay in business—literally and metaphorically—you stop digging. If you're smart, you take your payments up front and have a no-refund policy. Sorry, Sir Or Madam Or Otherwise, Big Brother Says Your Missing Relation Is Government Business, Now Please Get Out Of My Office And Don't Cause A Scene, We Just Got The Carpets Cleaned So I'd Rather Not Call The Cops If You Get My Drift.

It's hard to do detective work when you know somebody else already has the answer. Someone or something saw. The paper trail's tucked up nice and neat in a server somewhere. The whole crime, top to bottom, was probably caught on camera. It's like playing a puzzle game where all the solutions are in a folder on the couch next to you, except if you open the folder a guy in dark glasses shoots you in the back of the head and the next day your local paper runs a piece on the link between puzzle games and suicide.

Which is all to say: on most days, my bullshit threshold is zero.

The new client was a real knock-out, but she also looked like the kind of person who came bearing bullshit. She had that leather-jacket, biker-chic vibe, close-cropped hair and a couple piercings and arms like tree trunks. Her face paint was styled to discombobulate facial recognition software. The only name she'd given my secretary was Yue, and she'd also threatened to pop his head off his shoulders when he complained about it, and she was so much my type that I was mentally reciting Sappho within thirty seconds of meeting her.

She dropped into the Client Chair like she owned the place and, furthermore, like she wasn't planning to ever sell it. She popped a tab of bright pink bubblegum into her mouth and raised an eyebrow at me.

"You gonna stand there gawking all day, or what?" she asked.

"No," I said. Real smooth, moron.

She snorted. I went around back of my desk, but I didn't sit down.

"Can I offer you a drink?" I asked.

She blew a bubble and popped it, loud as gunfire. "Not unless its bubblegum-flavored."

"Point taken." I sat down. "What can I do for you?"

"Somebody stole my bike," she said. "I need it back."

"Uh. I don't know if that's exactly my field."

"You find stuff, don't you? Said so on your website. So you can find my bike."

"Have you reported it stolen?"

"What do I look like, an idiot?"

"I don't know if that's a yes or no to the question."

She rolled her eyes and popped her gum again. "No, I haven't."

"Can I ask why not?"

"Unless you can convince me how it's gonna help you find the damn thing, uh, no."

I took a couple deep breaths. The abrasive personality gets way less attractive when you're the one being abraded. She watched me, jigging her leg and drumming her fingers on the arms of the Client Chair. Her fingernails were painted pink, though the polish was chipped.

"Okay," I said. "What can you tell me, then? Where it was stolen from, what kind of bike, plate numbers—"

"It doesn't have plates, it's a bike," she interrupted. "Schwinn 24-speed, road tires, black and pink. It's got a Hello Kitty sticker on the crossbar thing."

"Schw—wait wait wait, it's a bicycle bike?!"

She looked at me like I was an idiot, which—fair. "No shit."

"Y'know, it's probably cheaper to just get a new bike. Like, I could probably find it for you, but—" I shrugged. "Just putting that out there."

"It's my bike," she said coolly, "and I want it back."

"Okay, customer's always right," I sighed. I got out my notepad. "So you said Schwinn, black and pink, Hello Kitty sticker. Aluminum frame, I'm guessing?"

She popped her gum. "What else?"

"Well, that's good news. The carbon fiber models sometimes get broken down for parts."

I watched her face, as closely as I could without being obvious. Not a twitch. In fact, there was almost too little reaction to that suggestion. Her jaw muscles worked as she chewed her gum. Woman had a jaw you could cut steel on, and one of those superhero cleft chins, and lips like—

Keep it together, Audri. Business.

"Any other identifying features?" I asked.

"It's got a couple lights on it, or it did last time I saw it. Generic road safety shit."

I wrote it down anyway. "And can I get some kind of contact info for you, in case I find it?"

She gave me a cell number—probably a burner phone, if I'd gotten the measure of her. I wrote that down, too. She didn't like it, but she didn't try to stop me. She did get up. I decided pretty quickly that I wasn't going to try and stop her.

"And, uh, payment's due up-front," I said.

"No way," she said.

"Policy. Sorry."

"You have a boss someplace?"

"No, I'm—I'm the boss, it's just—"

"Then your policy's bullshit, and you can make an exception. You'll get the money when I get my bike."

The AC unit kicked on, finally. The vibrations would blow out the mic on the buttonhole camera installed in my wall—though they wouldn't do anything about the visuals.

And, also, I was starting to sweat pretty good.

"Listen," I said to Yue, keeping my voice down and my face blank. "I don't know what you hid inside that bicycle, but I know it's damn important to you. So you can either tell me what it is, or you can pay me up front and I won't ask questions. Your choice."

She stared. I flicked a glance at the AC vent on the wall. She got it. She threw up her hands and dug a short stack of hundreds out of her jacket.

"If you turn me in," she said, "you're a dead woman."

I counted the cash. One thousand, nice and round. I rolled it up, put a rubber band around it, and stuck it in my pocket.

"What would I turn you in for?" I said. "It's just a bicycle."

Which was when I found out that, for all her abrasiveness and cool-tough demeanor, Yue had a fantastic smile.

[living-after-death-blog1]

The Day My Daughter Died.. (An introduction to the end and the beginning)

I received a phone call from my daughter's best friend, Alli, at about 2:30pm on that day. She told me that she had just left work and was on her way to my daughter's house, after receiving a frantic phone call from my daughter's roommate, Kenneth, who said that he had come home and found her unconscious, with a needle in her hand. He had called an ambulance, he had attempted CPR, and was now waiting outside of the house while the emergency personnel did their thing inside.

I think it was already pretty well established that my daughter was gone, and I think that this was probably communicated to me, but my brain literally wouldn't grasp it. I wasn't devastated; I was terrified. I spent the entire conversation (which was probably at least 20 minutes long) thinking that we didn't know anything yet, feeling like I was frozen, like everything around me was happening in slow motion, and that I was just holding my breath until the moment when Alli could finally get to the house and someone could tell us what was going on. I thought we were waiting to hear that she'd been trànsported or something. It honestly hadn't occurred to me until just now that simply knowing that Kenneth had attempted CPR should have been enough information to answer to the only question that was looping through my mind, over and over, until Alli arrived. "Is she breathing?"

I was 4 hours away, in another city.

Once Alli arrived, there were people everywhere; policemen, emergency responders, tons of neighborhood spectators, and Kenneth, the roommate. I was still on the phone, waiting, while he and Alli had a brief conversation, which I couldn't really hear and I finally interrupted to ask what I thought we'd been waiting to find out this whole time.. "But.. is she still breathing?"

At that point, I heard Alli take a deep breath and, very slowly, and with such pain, she said the words that made it real.

"No, Stephanie. She's gone."

I remember taking a deep breath and saying, "Okay."

It almost felt like, "Well.. Here we are. This is actually happening. You know, that thing that happens to other people, but not your child, not you? It's happening. Right now."

Another deep breath, and once again, " Okay.. "

I remember thinking that I needed to hold it together somehow, because I was going to have to handle and figure out a lot of things, and I really, really needed to be able to think. I just had to think. Figure this all out somehow, as if it were a problem that could be solved.

I did what I've always done when I need to call upon an extreme coping skill. I stopped feeling, and I started thinking. Intellectualizing, my therapist, Becca, the one from my daughter's first treatment center, used to call it.

I called upon that skill in that moment. Think. Think about what other people are going through, feeling, experiencing. Think about how everyone else feels, so you don't have to look at what this really is. Don't even get close to it.

That is the moment that I apologized to Alli for having to be the one to make such a horrible phone call, telling someone's mother that they are dead, and thanked her for being that person, at the same time. I thanked her for being a good friend. I told her I loved her. Said I'd be available for the police or whoever needs to speak to next of kin, and told her to give them my number.

I called my boyfriend first, in a panic; I had to get home, I had to get to Houston, and I had to get there NOW. I couldn't drive, and all I could think was how I needed to get there, I had to get there, and I needed to get there NOW. No answer.

I called my ex-husband (not the father of my daughter, but of two sons, ages 15 and 18, at the time) and, not realizing that the boys were in the car with him or that he had answered on speaker, I started screaming that my daughter was dead, she was dead, and I didn't know what to do. Of course, after finding out that the boys had overhead, I called both of them to apologize that they had had to hear me like that, to hear the news that way.

I don't remember very much of the next few weeks. The things I do remember are choppy, like random scenes from a movie, but I remember those things vividly.

I realized that I had to tell people. Who? Who is the first person you call to announce your daughter's death?

I called my mom first, I think, and I listened to her sob and repeat, "Noooo..." over and over.

I called my daughter's other grandmother, on her father's side, and I listened as she cried and kept saying, "Oh my god.."

I called my daughter's ex-boyfriend, Javi, the father of my granddaughter, who was 8 at the time, and he couldn't believe it, couldn't accept it, either; jumped in his car to go over there. I guess he needed to see it with his own eyes.

I spoke to another of my daughter's best friends, Jessica (she happened to text me, so I thought she already knew, and when I realized that she didn't, I told her to call me. She asked me, "How bad is it?" I said, "Bad."), and then she, too, immediately drove over to the house to meet up with Alli, Kenneth, and Javi.

I couldn't listen to any more breaking hearts at the moment, so as fucked up as it seems now, I just started texting people.

I texted my friend, Sarah, who, along with her entire family, have been like family to us. I don't even know how I said it. I think I said, "I'm so sorry to tell you like this, but they found her this morning, unconscious, with a needle, and she didn't make it. " Sarah immediately called me, and started screaming, " What? What? " as if she couldn't hear me. Her mind, too, couldn't seem to allow this to be real.

I spoke to my friends, Theresa and Joie, sisters, and they immediately offered all kinds of practical help that hadn't even occurred to me, such as setting up a GoFundMe account to pay for funeral expenses. I had been laid off from my job of over ten years several months prior, and so all of the life insurance policies and everything I'd been so used to just having were no longer available, and I had nothing.

Joie also posted on Facebook on my behalf. It was the only way I could think of to let everyone know, especially my daughter's friends, and it was because of all of these people, and so many more, that I have managed to get through this last year.

I don't know what I did to deserve such wonderful people in my life, but I am surrounded by them. The GoFundMe account reached over $5000 within a couple of days.

My daughter's best friend from middle school is a hair and makeup artist, and she flew in from Colorado to make sure that she was the one who did the makeup for the viewing. That was always their thing, and even though my daughter's addiction had driven them apart over the years, Vikki had to do this one last thing for her friend, and I was happy to have her do it.

Sarah's ex-boyfriend, who knew my daughter as a child, took care of all of the flowers and arrangements.

Sarah's mom has a friend who was able to make a dress for my daughter to wear during the viewing; an Alice in Wonderland dress, because that was always her thing.

Sarah and her mom had already found the cheapest most decent funeral home that they knew of (her mom had used the place for her own mother's service), so I literally spent the next few days just having to answer yes and no questions.

It turned out that since my daughter never divorced the father of her second child (my grandson, Isaac, who was almost 7 at the time), even though they'd been separated and out of contact for a few years (she was engaged to someone else for at least a year), he was her next of kin, not me, and this brought forth a whole host of issues. He doesn't raise their son, his mother does, because he is either 1) insane, 2) brain damaged from drug use, 3) currently using drugs, or 4) a combination of all of the above. These things made the entire process very difficult for me.

They tried to dictate who could be invited to the funeral, which I wasn't on board with. They threatened me by saying that they would have her body transferred to the funeral home of their choosing and they would let me know when and where to show up. They said I could not have any locks of her hair. They said they would not split up her ashes. They even dictated to me that she be cremated, because they somehow knew (having only known her for a few years, and not knowing her at all, really, for the few years prior to her death) that she wanted to be cremated and that she wanted her ashes spread over the ocean.

I won't ever be able to understand why someone would treat the mother of a dead child the way that they treated me, but I've just added them to the list of people I'll have to figure out how to forgive somehow, eventually.

Everyone showed up for us, and I was so grateful for the presence of every single one of them. People I hadn't seen or spoken to in years, such as my ex-husband's ex-boss's ex-wife, lol.

I placed a son for adoption when I was 19, and though I had met him in person once, he and my other kids had not met. He and my daughter had been talking a lot on social media, and he had planned to come visit and meet everyone in May, after he graduated college, but ended up coming in April for her funeral, instead. He never even got to hear her voice.

There is so much I want to use this blog for. I want to document my own journey through this grief. I want to talk about addiction and help destigmatize the way people view addicts. I want to offer resources and maybe even hope. And I want to remember my daughter.

Her name was Jade. She was 26 years old when she died. She was one of the funniest, coolest, most creative, beautiful people you could have ever known. Yes, the addiction was a part of her journey, her struggle, but she was more than that. And I intend to honor ALL of who she was, by speaking the truth.

The truth is that she died from the toxic effects of an accidental overdose of heroin and methamphetamine. But that's just one part of her story, and mine, and I need to tell them both, even if no one ever reads a single word I type. I need to tell these stories.

Since I started with her death, here is a photo recap of what there is to know so far:

#grief #overdose #addiction #loss #bereavement #grieving

[earlgreytea68]

Maybe it's bc I'm from a country whose gov wiretapped innocent people they saw as their enemies but I can't believe people PAY MONEY to get spied on so they what? Don't have to press a button?! I'm not angry or anything just absolutely baffled at how many people ACTIVELY choose this dystopian nightmare shit. Things are bad enough already so I just wonder how both those things (anger about fb&owning alexa) fit together. Not attacking you, just genuinely wondering about the thought process (1/2)

Valid question! Here’s my thought process:

First, the Facebook thing is actually less about the collection and sale of my data than...a really, really long tortured relationship with Facebook that needs to end now. Not that I agree with the collection and sale of my data! Because I don’t! But you should know my long history, because I think it explains my thought process. 

I registered for Facebook early, when you still had to have an edu email address. I thought I had it locked down, private, friends-only. Then, a few years later, my boss walks into my office and closes my door and gives me a talking-to about ���inappropriate Facebook posts.” To be clear, I was never a person, like, posting topless photos on Facebook or something, nor was I complaining about my boss really. It was more like, “Ugh, I have to work all weekend, sorry I can’t go to this party!” And she was like, “THAT IS PRIVILEGED INFORMATION THAT YOU WORKED ALL WEEKEND.” And I was like, ...how are you even seeing my Facebook, you’re not my friend? So (a) I was spooked, because when your boss yells at you because of Facebook, it’s terrifying, and (b) I was completely bewildered that she could even see my Facebook. Upon investigation, it turned out that at the time (and this was a decade ago), if you put down where you work, EVERYONE who also put that place down could see your Facebook, even if they weren’t your friend and your Facebook was friends-only. (I think Facebook has changed that policy now.)

So, terrified, I deleted my Facebook. But this was back when not having a Facebook caused this whole public outcry thing and my friends freaked out and so I gave in and re-started a Facebook, posting very little because I was terrified. But I still used it. Until I got depressed and started therapy. My therapist told me to keep a stress journal, where I wrote down whenever I felt a spike of stress, and going on Facebook consistently showed up in the journal as a source of stress. So, upon my therapist’s suggestion, I stopped going on Facebook. I still kept it instead of deleting it because I didn’t want people to freak out the way they did the first time, but I stopped using it. 

Fast-forward many years, and in January of this year, I tried to open a Facebook for the psuedonym I use for novels. Facebook immediately flagged me as suspicious and asked me to prove I was me by uploading a photo. And I was kind of like, ....Why do you need my photo? What’s that going to prove? All I can assume is that, of course, they have a database of what we all look like. How they know I’m not just grabbing  a random photo of the person I’m trying to impersonate off the internet is another question entirely. But I was like, Fine, whatever, I don’t feel like fighting with you, Facebook, so I gave up on having a pseudonym page. 

And then I started thinking: Why did I still have a Facebook? I never go on Facebook. All the stuff had happened with the election, so it wasn’t like people would freak out anymore if I deleted it, they’d totally get it. And I kind of no longer wanted to give Facebook bragging rights about how many users it has by counting me when I don’t actually use it. And Zuckerberg’s attitude seemed to be that if you didn’t like Facebook, you shouldn’t use Facebook. I COMPLETELY disagree with this sentiment on his part because I think it completely ignores how many people can’t opt out of Facebook at this point, but luckily, I can opt out of Facebook. 

...Or so I thought. 

Except that I requested deletion of my Facebook, and they confirmed deletion and said I was scheduled for deletion within two weeks, and then...just never deleted my Facebook. Which I only know because they keep sending me emails about me being tagged and people sending me messages (even though I also keep requesting to be unsubscribed from those emails). (And also my friends still on Facebook confirm for me that I’m still on there.) I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to get in touch with Facebook but...you can’t. It’s impossible. Try not being on Facebook and finding ANY contact information for Facebook other than a paper mailing address. If you find the contact info, please let me know!!! They have zero available email addresses, they don’t respond to their Twitter, and the phone number that circulates online is a dangerous scam stealing your social security numbers (which Facebook knows and warns you about but still doesn’t provide you with any way to contact them). 

So my anger with Facebook isn’t just about gathering and selling my data, it’s the culmination of years of mistrust and knowing it’s not healthy for me in general and then BEING DENIED MY RIGHT TO DELETE IT AND BEING RENDERED COMPLETELY POWERLESS. Like, the longer this has gone on, and the longer I have realized that there is literally nothing I can do to get Facebook to delete my account, the angrier and angrier I have gotten. 

So. That’s Facebook. As for the Alexa, well. You’re right. It sits in my house and is probably recording everything that happens in the house. Which is...basically nothing. I’m only home a few waking hours a day because I work full-time. I travel most weekends, so I’m not there on the weekends. I live alone, so I don’t talk much in my house. I have people over maybe two or three times a year, and then I can unplug the Alexa and stick it out in the garage and I feel relatively okay about that???? I might be kidding myself there, but, if worse comes to worst, I can throw the Alexa out entirely, and I think I’m okay. So I feel mostly in control of Alexa and its eavesdropping on me. 

I worry more about the fact that I’m supporting Amazon in the first place, since I disagree with most of Amazon’s policies. I feel really guilty about that and do want to extract myself from the Amazon dependency I developed. My only shopping option in my town was Wal-Mart, and at the time when I moved there a few years ago I thought it was better to support Amazon than Wal-Mart. Now I’m not so sure about that (although I guess the lesson I’ve been learning is that there is no company I really want to give my money to). 

I also worry more about the fact that I have a smartphone than an Alexa. I was very, very late to adopt a smartphone--years and years after everyone else had them--because I was very wary of them. I’m used to them now, but I don’t like how much information the smartphone has on me. I’ve given up a little bit, because I just...did. But the information the Alexa has is tiny compared to how much my phone has. And we all know that we have our suspicions that the phones are listening to us the whole time. And I *do* talk on the phone. I don’t talk much in my house, but my phone is the device I use to talk on (I talk a lot while walking around the neighborhood, waiting between classes at work, etc.). So the phone is getting every conversation I have, not the Alexa. 

All that said: I don’t know that I can completely disconnect now. I shouldn’t have a smartphone, or a Twitter, or a Tumblr, but I decided that at a certain point what I’m really going to strive to do is be conscious about this technology and work to shape it in better ways. Is this naive and idealistic of me? Yes. Undoubtedly. I have nothing I can say to defend myself on that point. I absolutely should just unplug...but that’s difficult to do, and I do feel like (as the EU is trying here) there are ways to make this technology less dangerous. 

Anyway. That’s my thought process. I think we all make the decisions we feel fit what we’ve considered. I don’t care much for Facebook, so it’s easy for me to disconnect (well, it would be if Facebook would let me, which is part of my major Facebook problem). I find Alexa useful and because I don’t do much around it and it’s connected to less stuff than my cell phone to begin with, it doesn’t bother me as much, and I feel like I can change my mind and get rid of it fairly easily. Of course, I could be wrong about that. I always thought I could delete my Facebook at any time, too.  

Everyone might get done reading this and think, Wow, EGT is an absurd human being who makes zero sense. That is a completely true statement.