the joyride.

simplified lyrics of a life (less extraordinary)

When you fight to save yourself, there is a chance that you will lose yourself in the process. My absence from Mastodon, Pixelfed,, and most of my interests and desires was a symptom of this personal demise.

After a cascade of setbacks in mental, financial, health, and overall well-being, I found myself to be an encapsulated void moving through time and space. There was stimulation, reconstruction, or fiber of being that was who that I was. If I did try to find myself, I only found the void.

When I started to feel like some scrap of identity was trying to resettle, I tried to put a structure and an order of operations to the return of me. The result suffocated the spark.

Now, without the slightest clue of how or why, I am here to announce that I have returned and feel myself pulling forward over the jagged the terrain that ripped me out of the universe.

Thank you for the you in me.

When I first discovered and became fascinated with and writefreely, I wanted to see what people were doing with it. I ended up putting the into my RSS reader.

From there, I experienced a transformation in my daily skims and nods at what is going on. The text was living. The text was my emptiness, my hope, my wishful thinking, my struggles, my fascinations, my fears, my feeling better, and my learning. It is what the universe's experiment gone cruelly and humorously haywire has denied me: connection.

Some vent. Some aspire. Some educate. Some desire. All contemplation of a piece of their existence.

Take the time and stop the normal headlines, deadlines, and bylines. Even if you do not read the whole post, follow the entire instance and read at least a paragraph or two. I honestly believe that you will discover what I did.

Moving along ... has officially been launched today with my introductory article. I hope that it will be the beginning a larger set of projects that will be of interest to others as well allow me finally reconcile that 50/50 right brain / left brain divide that I have been battling all these years.

My gopherspace will be back up in the next few days. I have not settled on whether I will offer a proxy to access it through web browsers or just leave it for those who appreciate life on Port 70.

I will be transferring to a different location in my current employment next week to add more free time in my day and also to scare new customers and coworkers.

I have also been binge watching guilty pleasures lately.

That's it for now.

Where the silence has lease ... Inside a dancing spirit is stretching For release.

In absence no more ... I once again say, “Hello”.

18 Going On 19: The First Prediction Article

#newyear2019 #2019 #predictions

It is at this point of the year that any and almost all instances of media begin to reflect on the year that is closing out. They tally up the wins, loses, and there is little mention of what is in between. They then quickly move on to pondering the next year for another sporting chance of claiming a tiny slice of prescience if it is only based on the experiences of the year they are leaving and the trends they have seen before. Spirits do not crash the threshold to whisper the winning stock purchase and sell sequences nor do they issue the needed detour signs for any turmoils that will surely be up ahead.

While I ignore the mainstream babble of celebrities and hyped entertainment outlets, I do find it interesting when the various providers of more focused areas of contents (generally in the form of blogs and casts) add their own thoughts on the year to come. While there is often a little bit of jest added to the pile through the form of outlandish divined events with silly outcomes comprising characters or entities heavily discussed in their focus, the vast majority offer insight to the hopes and the fears of the providers and the audience. They tend to be well thought out and tested with some form of logic and manage to weave together the year fading with the year that is soon-to-be. They do it so well that it is easy to imagine that point on the timeline ahead and imagine the course of events that result from it. We imagine in detail alternate timelines creating a collective microuniverse with its own boundaries and nature. 2019 is no longer the unknown, but an adventure through the undiscovered country riddled with legends and folklore that we created ourselves.

It is with this idea that we pre-write the pages our existence's story and it with each page turn the ink melts away to new words and images of the experienced that can at times be jarring and sharp that it hurls the imagined reality into realm of disappointment. Whether good or bad the imagined idea, we feel a loss for that part of life that would have been able to say, “I was there when ... “. It is another assertion over our lives. While, not meriting a full depression and funeral, it causes our imagination to feel slighted and resentful for being pushed to the side. It takes a moment to for it to get brave again to venture out, but until it does it throws its microuniverse into realm of nostalgia. We yearn to interact with that vivid existence because it is as close to the existence we had back when we raided Snake Mountain or battled for the honor of Rylos and defended The Frontier and had magic and wonder that encapsulated every fiber of being.

While I am not going to set the timelines for you, I will suggest a few events for you with a reasonable catalyst so that it might allow you to experience some of the my story ahead.

Microuniverse 2019

The failed attempts to for the Congress of the United States to reverse the FCC's rollback of “Net Neutrality” in December 2018 will be the end of cautioned, measured steps of Internet Service Providers with their own content asset interests. There will be active movements for tiers, throttles, and restricted access. Cost wars will create a rift between the giants leaving the consumers in the middle.

The fight to regulate as well as punish social media companies like Facebook and Twitter for privacy, sphere of influence, and content of conflict. Self regulation attempts (censorship), transparency over privacy, and revelations will lead to a growing awareness of the hazards of central silos of information in which data is the currency.

The year 2018 saw a leaping growth in activitypub/fediverse development. While some are just laying foundations, other projects are surging forward in features and user feedback that they pose to be household names in the coming year through word of mouth, public instances, or even focused community efforts.

Fediverse microblogging (Mastodon, Pleroma), photo and video sharing Pixelfed (and maybe Anfora), an alternative cloud music management (Whalebird) will pull more interest from the general public as mobile clients become available or gain greater functionality.

Mobile clients for fediverse projects will coincide with a major security or privacy exploit for a big name social or tech company. The trend of “applifying” the web into more visual and interactive binary clients will see a application developers or library developers taking advantage of the actively growing troves of data from sensors and mapping relationships of people through use. Fediverse projects and other open source applications will be seen as the new hope for the violated people. Open software stores will take on a higher presence when media.

Peertube will gain as a result of the cost of startup for independent providers, self-destructive behaviors larger streaming services and content providers to increase revenue or cap bandwidth.

Economic downturn caused by a freezing of trickle-down rainfall to the workers by companies taking tax cuts, increased alienation of allies, an ego-based trade negotiations and budgeting in the name of security will lead to unavailable coverage for a major event. There be a rise to what some may call a grassroots movement and others an underground movement to create decentralized communication systems circumventing government sanctioned service monopolies and efforts to create encryption backdoors.

It's dark, but it is not that bad. Eh?

On Bookmarks, Information Scattering, and Lost Learning

#bookmarks #ADHD #selfhosting #organization #workingknowledge #asktheFediverse

In the nearly 23 years that I have been using the Internet, I can only recall a brief time when I was able to bookmark some information, keeping my most needed links omnipresent on the browser toolbar and everything else in a reasonable menu tree with a somewhat reasonable structure of topic and subtopics. Only a few oddballs put scratches on a near picture perfect hierarchy. They wanted to fit everywhere or not fit in a group at all. Sometimes these lingered in a uninspiring temporary folder. The setup was easy to add to, remove from, or even reflow when things just seemed to need some tweaking.

For a couple of years, it was persistent through multiple platforms, distro hopping, software testing, and careless errors. Bookmarks were backed up, synced, and even limited to the devices I needed them and not overloading the eyes with clutter on devices that they were not need on . I could keep work away from home and home away from work. By adding these role contexts , it kept unwanted judgmental, prying, or even glancing eyes from generating unneeded narratives and tainted environments of discomfort, false assessments, and ostracizing gossip. I mean, if you have anxiety issues, why put a button to be pushed that would exponentially cause added suffering.

The system was nearly perfect except for two flaws. The first was blatant while the other only became understood in extended use. First off, the system was closed source, stored on remote servers not within my control. My ability to access my accumulated research, curiosities, and guilty pleasures was at both my ability to continue to pay for the service and the whims of the provider to continue the service and to continue it under the same terms in which I chose to become a client. Should the business shutdown, be taken over, or decide to change directions what happens to my collection and how do I maintain that collection without the tools that helped structure and access?

As those fears mounted, I kept trying to find a viable escape route that would lead me away from being a hostage. Many of searches on Github, tech sites, and casual inquiries of my peers led me nowhere. Yet, I had to be free in that nowhere so I discontinued the service and have been lost ever since. The service was Xmarks, formerly known as Foxmarks. It was owned by Lastpass. That company has since been sold and as of May 2018, the service no longer exists. I was not thrown overboard, I just abandoned ship with no viable flotation device or port of safety. Information became disjointed, lost by lack of a backup strategy, and even forgotten in the growing catchall folder. I was swimming with no direction for what I needed. To this day, I still have not recovered a fraction of what I had discovered and meticulously fought to preserve connection to.

Furthermore, there was design flaw in the system that only started to make itself known after the system had extended use. As more information and structure was piped in, the quiet void began to take hold. This flaw later would claim multiple ill-planned drive wipes and overwrites by older copies. That flaw was that the service and software did not take in account a condition of the end-user. That condition was long denied and even blinded the end-user from reaping the full value of information management. That condition was ADHD.

It was not enough to be able to capture information, filter it, and make a place for it. The information had to be woken up now and then, stir its way out the depths for it to be acted upon. Without a means of bringing to light the jewels of information buried under structure and shallow more visible paths. It is perpetually living in the unaware existence of Schrodinger's Cat that defines experienced existence. On a conscious level, I have no perception of the box with the cat. The lack of perception is so powerful and encompassing that, for me, the box does not exist. The idea that such a box could have existed does not exist either. There is no residual marker in the mind to raise the questions: “Where did the box go? Was there a box here? What did I do with the box? What was in the box?”. To put it another way, it is The Nothing. It is not a gap in mind, a hole in time. Those would be something. There is simply nothing.

Out of sight. Out of mind. My collection of links and notations don't exist nor do they have any memory of existence if they are not readily visible. It is like the rotting package of spinach in the crisper drawer because someone moved it off the main shelf where I had a constant reminder of it.

I have tried Wallabag. I like the idea of keeping a cached copy of a site a long with tags and the url. I like the idea of being able to export a page or article to PDF and then upload it to my e-ink reader for a more comfortable reading. I like Shaarli for the ability to tag, make public links, write descriptions, and search. I have played around with Buku a bit as well. They all fail in some key point in use. They do not integrate well into both a desktop and mobile device workflow. They suffer from the same ADHD flaw of piling up and pushing things out of actionable view. In earlier times I had used Firefox Sync, but it suffers from the third-party issue and from what I have read the selfhosted setup is kind of a frustrating mess.

What options are out there? What have you found that works for you? Was is your general or ADHD solution to managing online information sources?

Thank you in advance, dear #Fediverse.

a write to be wrong

Today, I am humbling throwing in the towel in another “failed” attempt to gain a sense of accomplishment trough #NaNoWriMo, the National Novel Writers Month.

To be honest, I am actually proud to be bowing out. It is a sign of success for me. It is a symbol that I willing to admit that I need to say “no”. It is a symbol that I am aware of other points that need higher focus. It is realization of that, although I know in my heart that I am a writer, there is no passion in this project for me. To carry on would only mean languishing in the feigned existence of intention and to judge myself harshly once more by how well I measured up in the lie.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright; the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; but there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out. Casey At the Bat, Ernest Thayer 1888

Lines I have known well through my life and always seemed to coexisted in. In parallel, by measure of the living game, I never had my winning runs and every time I stepped up to the plate, I just seemed to always swing and miss. The invisible pitcher seemed to be a cruel master of destiny whose single purpose was to take his opponent's glory out. As the years pass on, the stadium grew colder and the chill gnashed at the ever shrinking hope in the hollowing shell of the man stepping up to the plate.

It has taken me nearly forty years to recognize the pitcher. It took may falls and pains to cry the right tears to wash off the cover of that very real opaque figure. Nearly forty years he lived under that invisible cloak woven by denial and a warped perception of judgement. It was the #ADHD Me who stared me down and hurled those pitches and taunts. For all these years, I took his message to be “You are never going to win” and every time I took that message to be true. It became as self-fulfilling prophecy.

We met once again today and I heard his voice whisper out with a sneer, “Welcome back”. I stared back across the plate at the empty space between us. I picked up the bat, he wound up and pitched, and I just stood there. The ball, like time itself, whizzed by and I just lowered the bat. I expected a gleeful, sadistic question “Give up?” amidst a stream of a shaming laugh; instead, the tone changed completely. I detected a smirk on that face. “'Bout damn time you figured it out.” His smiled widened as he relaxed his posture and began strolling towards me. “This is not your game.”

There we were standing eye-to-eye and those last five words that haunted me all those years with anger, sadness, and envy. They sounded so different in the replay. The words tumbled through my mind through every scene that I could remember in my life and as if there was some magical remastering of the film, the sound had changed. What once was overpowering, demoralizing, and subjugating became matter-of-fact. He had faced me for a lifetime, not as an enemy, but as a mentor. “This is not my game,” I repeated back. The sentence began as if someone else had my voice and ended with a breath of fresh air filling the lung with understanding.

He was right. We walked out of the stadium together, each with a beer in hand, open ears, and open mouths. As the midnight had well passed, yawns made and the quest for rest had taken over, he turned to me to say, “This doesn't change a thing.” It was foreboding. “I am still going to be there, at all of them. Every part where you strive for glory and satisfaction. You are going to hate me and you are going to love me, my friend; but don't worry, you will find it. We will find it together. See you tomorrow.” He inserted a maniacal laugh just before his final words, “Good night”.

Fighting for my writes

After years of neglected imaginations, endeavors distracted, and words unformed, I have decided once more to take on the war of my mind and battle myself and the world.

It is #NaNoWrimo National Novel Writing Month and several years ago I registered to do it to force myself to do what I wanted and needed to do. Life and myself got in the way of it that year and every point since. This year, I am taking better control of the reigns and am in a point that I might actually be at the lowest hindering ever.

To keep myself to it and keep myself from constantly changing my intended works, I have decided to use the power of and keep the work in the open.

Could the freedom to flow be found in giving up the freedom to control?

As a mind bound to the desire to express, I find it difficult to find my words, sounds, and connection of thought when I am surrounded by the overriding need to control the medium. Fonts, structure, overall layout, integration, and the lack of the one-true theme that just accents the right parts and fits right in to my purpose ... and get it to be responsive and functional ... and get it direct and fast ...

Options, perfection driven, and dangerous unending learning ...

All of it becomes locusts swarming, surrounding, and diving down to the frozen keystrokes to devour the decisions, the messages, and the intended textually painted landscape of my mind — decimating the valley and making it barren by the parasites of formality and doubt which take root to the soil to suffocate any sprout that dare peaks up.

Dream to demise. Dream to demise. Death by a crushing burden. A perpetual trap for every fool's errand. The lure of false attentions to leave intention drowning in the vacuum of attention withdrawn.

Taking up less for the benefit of more.

The intention of using is to surrender, if even for the moment, the powers that are holding me down. If I am will to relegate myself to a generic skiff that takes me down the river, across the waters of my expression, and see all that it touches and affects ... then so be it. I am not tethered to the dock still building a boat with changing blueprints and tripping on the the moorings to find that in a matter of hours or days, any slightly assembled vessel sinks within the chaos and the port abandoned.

It is a case of Do now. then Do better..

By not battling the devil among the demons of details, I can gradually power that forming world through experience and put down a strong foundation each translation of what lies within to a communicable structured form. As depth and reach expand, then a detail can be taken on with the confidence and the view added value, not necessity. By vanquishing each detail separate from the masses, I believe the horde loses the ability to overwhelm and conquer and will diminish. Finally, with the fall of the chaos of choices, that devil — the anxiety that is was my beast of burden — will have no power over me.