don’t touch my demographics, don’t lick my logarithms

I hate the fact that, now that my kids use my netflix account, the wonderful suggestions netflix’s magical logarithms used to make (based on my past rentals and ratings), which often led to my discovering great, often-obscure, films…. now suggest movies like “Triple Dog” and “Hot Tub Time Machine.” Yea, that. And not only do I not want to know what my kids are watching (oh I know you parents with small kids are wincing, but once they pass the age of 16 really you can’t stop them from watching the movies they want, like, say “Human Centipede”...trust me you don’t want to know), but I don’t want them to know every title of every movie I watch. So much for privacy. So much for the benefits of technology.

And while I’m at it, I hate sharing my iPad. After all, while in between sets of Angry Birds they might just peruse every email I’ve every written or book I’ve read, or the personal “notes to self” in Evernote, or…

Books, yes, that too. Seems my bookshelf is no longer tucked in the corner of my room, but on a flashing screen for all to see. I’m using Goodreads to note the books I’m reading and want to read. But it’s the same thing. I find myself only putting on the books that I think are “acceptable,” not the ones that are more personal (yes, I admit to having, at times, kind of obscure reading tastes, just like I enjoy often obscure movies).

I’m censuring myself, mainstreaming myself, all in an attempt to embrace these new tools that are supposed to make it one big happy sharing world…because I’m seeing that there is no room in that big happy world for a woman like me. Maybe when I was twenty I didn’t care about sharing every thought, every choice, with the world (actually I did, but that’s irrelevant to the point I’m trying to make), but I am at the point where I have a public persona I need to guard. Or is it that we are all becoming just that public persona, even in private? The globalization of the self. We’ll end up whittling our personal preferences and quirks, the things that make us who we are, in order to fit in, to appear the way we want to appear, the way we all appear, until we are all, the same. And not in a kumbaya kind of way, more like a scary sci fi movie.

Yikes. /rant.

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