Faint    Project details: CLASSIFIED
cat /dev/urandom > /dev/sda

 Nullified Identity    2015-01-23 00:46:22 ET
"cat /dev/urandom > /dev/sda"

That is what is in my bio panel. I wanted people to understand it long ago, but I wasn't sure how to express it. It is a command, to Bash, a GNU/Linux command-line interface shell, that basically instructs the computer to take random data and write it to your hard drive, from the beginning until there is no more room on the device or the process is otherwise manually interrupted.

The reason that this command occupies my bio panel is because it relates to how I experience identity in the first place. I feel that I am no one. I have no lasting identity, and its expression is beholden to the tides and the stars and the wind -- random input overwriting all that I am -- and for someone who doesn't believe in astrology, per se, that's quite a statement, isn't it? This is a true thing, acknowledged by philosophers, talked about as similar to the shipbuilder's paradox, or the idea of aggregates in Buddhism, but constantly and intensely felt as an everyday concern by lost *souls like me. Day to day, most people do not realize or are not concerned with the fact that they are someone other than they only recently were, while some recognize themselves as different from moment to moment and, for me at least, it is a source of great confusion.

*souls - I typically use this in a figurative sense. Not meant to indicate religious belief.

It isn't in my bio panel just to tell you how I feel about identity, though. It is not some art piece about a general philosophical principle. It is also a symbolic act of self-destruction, to express something the only way that I could. It replaced a bio panel that talked about who I thought I was at the time that I wrote it. It frustrated me that I couldn't keep up, couldn't keep who I felt like I was in sync with what I wrote about myself days or hours or minutes ago, and so I gave up. I gave up not only on describing myself, but on knowing myself, and on accepting myself. I gave up on being anyone at all, even a fleeting entity. Congruently, I've felt more and more dead all these years as time passed.

Lately, I've had reason to be compelled toward other symbolic acts. Perhaps, instead of self-destructive symbolic acts, a symbolic act of self-reconstruction is in order. Perhaps many such acts are in order.

Whoever wakes up in my body in the morning, remind that person that I said this.

 Untrustables    2015-01-22 21:17:20 ET
So, rather than the last downer entry... who remembers that whole "untrustables" thing? Because Heather, Rikki, and I are all members now. I mean, if age is the only requirement. Where's our induction ceremony, huh?

I never noticed this, but I was looking at Lore's pictures, and Syko is like, ridiculous degrees of beautiful, what the fuck?

I've been here since 2002. Possibly before -- I've pruned entries. I actually don't know when the site launched. I don't know what's up with it these days. But, back in those days, if you were logged in on something, you were literally at a PC and available; you were there. Anybody else feel like you have poorly adjusted to the mobile era and are often confused by the usage paradigm of today? I send messages to people who are online, and I'm like... what the fuck, why aren't you GETTING the thing? WHY HASN'T IT ACKNOWLEDGED RECEIPT? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS; ANSWER ME! Instant messengers, IRC clients -- there was always a bit of idling, but this always-on, always-mobile shit, just like it makes mealtimes and outings with friends less "sacred," has made the here-and-now technologies less sacred, too. There is never a time when people are just online, then and there, with an intent to be in that place. Everything is multitasking. There's no time that you make to sit and chat on this electronic platform with your friends, nothing designated, anyway. Maybe that's what happened to SK. Not a community issue, like we've talked about in the past -- or maybe it is also that, just not exclusively -- but the entire usage paradigm around electronic communication shifted and left SK behind.

I hope that made sense. I'm a bit crazy right now, because events.

 If you're reading this: Whatever.    2015-01-22 13:18:31 ET
So, I logged on here because I don't want a lot of the people I know on Facebook to see what I've got to say, and I don't want to manually include and exclude my entire friends list, to chance forgetting to remove someone untrusted or include someone trusted. Isn't it something, how connecting more people into your social network can make you quieter, make you afraid to speak?

I don't really trust anyone much with what I have to say these days. Not here, not Facebook, not real life. (More on that later.) It seems like, in the old days, before FB even existed, before everything was supposed to be a reflection of your real self, ported to electronic format on the Internet, you could exist online as some abstract character, interact as you wanted to, not submit your real self to judgement if you didn't want to. I remember, in fact, that there were SK users (Thatsmystapler) that stopped dropping by because the general expectation had shifted away from that. I think she was right. Maybe I feel now like she did, except about more things than SK.

I stopped bothering initially because I didn't feel like managing myself across several social networking services. Then, it was that SK wasn't particularly special and cool anymore. No unifying culture. I mean, I see those of you posting about your children, your career advancement, your academic accomplishments, and -- I'm not the shit-head I used to be, I hope; I'm happy that you are accomplishing your goals, or that someone is -- I just don't care. It's not interesting. For one, I never came here to interact with real people, but abstract ones. Maybe that was a bad idea, but I'm not deciding that right now, just trying to figure out what it was that actually happened. Second, I don't have any sense of future, ability to visualize goals ahead, how I'd like the world to look -- with me still in it. I can't relate to your professional, academic, and reproductive progress. There is nothing further away from my experience than your human fulfillment. Don't tell me about it. I want to be happy for you, but I can't.

I came to crawl back into my teenage self for a few minutes. Back into that kid who felt things more acutely. These were usually teenage bullshit feelings, like how kids care too much about shit that doesn't matter, but that kid also felt some excitement and curiosity, and an occasional hope/joy composite. That kid had ideas about identity. That kid could be wrong when making statements about who it was, but it could still make statements. It believed it existed.

Here's all the stuff I didn't feel like telling anyone on Facebook. If you're reading this, it's because you're alright, or I literally just don't give a fuck what you think at all -- nothing personal. Speaking only to those two audiences is just not an option I have elsewhere.
- Unemployment. I moved back in with my parents. I'M FUCKING THIRTY YEARS OLD. They've always got "helpful" suggestions for me. I am not well, mentally. I think I've gotten worse. Smart? Doesn't matter. All their suggestions, all their "supportive" actions, are making me feel worse. Guidance can't be separated from stigma. "That's just the way the world is" is unacceptable. I can't give up that last bit of I'm-not-dead-yet.
- Nicotine withdrawal. I'm not suffering the pain of discipline here. I DON'T WANT TO QUIT. I just can't afford any cigarettes.
- Medication hangover. I don't want to take my pills, but I'm under a lot of pressure to do so, because my parents think it's a magic switch from "broken" to "fixed," and could not possibly care one bit about how I feel like it affects my sense of self, how it fundamentally alters who I am (they like that person better anyway, they've said; FUCK YOU frankly, raise me and tell me that parents have unconditional love for their children, just like GOD has for his -- one massive lie), and how the concept of "health" is all geared toward functioning on a nine-to-five schedule to serve our fucking overlords, and I have no idea what "health" would look like if I were allowed to determine the parameters myself. But I took it. Straight to previous dosage after nine months without it. Quite a contrast. I'm kind of dizzy, hazy, sleepy. I was whistling in the kitchen. Humming a fucking ditty. BUT I SHOULDN'T BE DOING THAT, THAT'S NOT RIGHT, BECAUSE...
- Someone I loved is fucking dead. Killed herself. People I've told try and convince me that it's not my fault, but I broke promises, left her waiting, made decisions for her that I had no right to, hoped she would forget I ever existed, decided that she'd be better off. She wasn't. She's dead. Her daughters -- three of them, 5, 7, 9 -- have no mother. And her husband... nice enough guy. He doesn't deserve this shit either.

You know how I found out she was dead? I decided one day -- two months too late -- I was done being scared to talk to her. I was back in town, and I still thought about her frequently, and I wanted to at least be back in her life, just to hang out, just to apologize, be friends, but set limits, until maybe, one day, we had the option to plausibly do something else, stable and secure. She'd have embraced me again without hesitation, without a doubt in her mind about it. She was that way with me. So I pulled up her Facebook page. Some of the comments gave me that funny feeling that something was wrong. First Google result for her name: Obituary. The date of birth was right. The picture was right. The situation was all wrong, though. I STILL can't picture her under dirt. I can't picture her NOT answering the door where she lived. I can't picture her not moving. And now, taking my fucking medicine, I can't feel much about it at all.

It happened a month before I came back. A month sooner, and I'd have at least gotten to say goodbye, if not prevented this whole thing completely. Or I could have called. I am the worst friend.

I didn't tell my parents, the people who think it must be so easy to "just do it," who, I dunno, "mind over matter" maybe kinda works for. How could I tell them at all? I'd be asking for an excuse to be left alone, but not expecting them to understand.

     2013-06-09 01:05:13 ET
Little odd. I had a very detailed and technically focused dream about how to design the flight controls of a starship. High level abstraction of all individual thrusters into a unified yaw, pitch, and roll control, with the ability to switch into controlling banks of individual thrusters in a fine, granular way.

Have you heard it said that you can't read more than basic text in a dream? I've found that that is not the case for me, apparently.

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